Half Fitz Alternate Ending

Leaning back in his rocker with his bare feet propped on the railing, Joshua smoked his first cigarette of the day. Fat, bushy-tailed squirrels running around the trees and swinging off the moss-laden limbs had held his attention for the past fifteen minutes; he welcomed distraction. Watching the squirrels had kept his thoughts at bay, which was good. He especially needed a break from thinking of the events of the last several days.

The third and most obvious reason the British are to blame for the massacre is that the British soldiers fired into the crowd. When Hugh Montgomery was knocked down by a chunk of ice, he stood up and fired into the crowd (Aron 24). The other soldiers soon fired as well. The gunfire killed five people. Crispus Attucks, Samuel Gray, and James Caldwell died at the scene. Samuel Maverick died a few hours later, while Patrick Carr survived for nine days before dying of his wounds (Olson). Samuel Gray was killed by a single ball entering his head, Crispus Attucks was killed by two balls entering his chest, and James Caldwell was killed by two balls entering his back (“Boston”). Benjamin Frizell, who was standing near the west corner of the Custom House before and at the time of the gun discharges, declared that the first discharge was of only one gun, the second discharge was of two guns, the third discharge was of three guns, immediately followed by the fourth and final discharge of five guns (“Boston”). He also declared that of the final discharge, two were from soldiers on the ground on Preston’s right side, but three discharges came from the balcony, or the chamber window, as the flashes appeared on the left side of Preston, and higher than the flashes of the other two discharges. This information shows that at least three soldiers were on the balcony and carefully took aim and

“a cigar popped out, half an inch of soft gray ash on it, smoking, waiting”, was what led to a

The sun was glistening through the tall, swaying pines. To the right of the trail, a gentle river flowed softly down towards the mouth of the lake. Walking across the rickety wooden bridge, I inhaled a deep breath of refreshingly crisp mountain air. The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the bridge and back onto the well-used hiking trail. The ambient sounds of chirping birds, babbling water, and the croaks of several frogs filled my ears as I made my way around the bend. As I entered the mouth of the forest, I could see my father standing in the middle of the path, glancing upwards, taking in the beauty that had began to engulf us. “We better get going.” he said, looking back at me. “There’s still many miles to go.” I smiled and turned, taking in one last view of the beautiful creekside. Then, with determination, we set out to finish the challenging trek we had started.

The night’s sky was a foreboding glow, displaying the remnants of the chaos that proceeded on that very night. The air was calm and still, leaving no trace of the strong, mighty wind that had once seized it. Seeker Gawin and Annabelle emerge from the Great Fall forest, heading in the direction of the marketplace of the Masonburge Village with a bewildered first commander, who was heading back to the castle, passing them with his men riding a few feet behind. The people of the village have gathered in a somber mood, watching the last of the king’s men carry away bodies on one of their horses.

Brad Tennison fumbled to button his parka against the Minnesota chill as he jumped off the school bus. His little brother Toby scrambled behind, dodging a spew of exhaust as the bus heaved a hydraulic sigh and slogged away from the shoulder, the engine racketing. Brad studied the October sky: absent of warmth, the unbroken stretch of overcast seemed to forcibly quash any lingering memories of summertime. A whole season of lazy fishing and lake-swimming days had passed, and now winter loomed again. Brad felt a pang of sadness ―more hollow than painful― as he realized that Papa had been gone almost a year.

“He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was” (Fitzgerald 110).

I find my seat in aisle B, on the plane heading away from you. The cabin is hot and sweaty and crowded, and I suddenly feel claustrophobic, as if the white walls have closed around me like a coffin. I sink down into my narrow chair and gaze out the oblong plane window. Goodbye New York, city of dreams; it’s back to Leith, city of cruel realities, for me. Alone, but what did I expect? That you’d come with me, back to that shitehole? Nae, but when I’m here in this city with you I’m driven to the sick delusion of a junky: that I could stay in this high with you forever. I’m itching for a fag, or something stronger, to ease my parting sorrows, but we havenae even reached altitude, and there’s these sign’s on the cabin walls which loudly and accusatorily remind me of my promises. “No smoking” they seem to plead in your voice. It’ll be a long flight if I keep hearing your voice in my head. These are the effects of withdrawal after a long, sweet hit of you. Worse than the purest smack, you are for me, and I had only replaced drug addiction with my addiction to you.

The night after the incident, we left town. I had Daisy pack up her bags. She took her sweet time, as most women will. I waited impatiently for her downstairs, tapping my foot on the marble floors, dragging on a cigarette. The tapping echoed throughout the large, empty halls. Gatsby’s halls had been full of noise and color, music reverberating along the walls. No more of that. Gatsby was no problem anymore. I moved the cigarette from one side to the other. It tasted bittersweet, and left a trace of ash in my mouth.

Once again the intimacy of the cigarette is shared with Selden, but now the cigarette is used to show casual friendship rather than sexual desire or marriage intrigue. This cigarette puts the final rejection on Mr. Gryce, for not only is Lily avoiding a walk with him, but she is also committing what he considers to be a vice.

The moonlight illuminated a dripping figure that emerged from a shimmering lagoon, as if covered in liquid metals. Glitter rained down from his head as he ruffled his hair, the view of him walking back up the path to us was like a scene from a movie. The moon was the fullest I’d ever seen it, teetering on top of Silver Lake. Summer noise was my favorite thing, the crackling fire a few feet from me, leaves above me whispering to the sky, even the low rumble of

It was a warm fall day in early October, a day that I recall quite vividly. The smells of the transition from summer to fall were in the air, accompanied by the sounds of birds singing and the wind blowing through the trees. It was on this beautiful day that my existence was almost terminated. A quick hunting trip could have ended my life.

Misty dew covers the entire surface of the field. The yellowing corn stalks stand erect and proud until my grandpas tractor comes to end their growth. Autumn slowly weaves its way in and leaves a stain of brilliant color in its wake. Not everyone enjoys such colors, but when you take a second to step outside your doorstep, and look at all the wonders that surround you, you’d be surprised at how marvelous the world can truly be. To me, Autumn is a time for relishing in the colors. Soaking in the oranges and reds while sitting by a warm fire. It’s a time for remembering that everything does end, but it does not have to end in the dreadful way we think it will. Autumn is a time for the closeness of others to keep out the chill of the morning and the starry-eyed darkness of the night.

The sun wrapped my body in its warm blanket. It extended its radiant arms to the surface, illuminating my surroundings. The slight breeze flowed through my hair and encompassed my entire figure in order to reverse the toasty effects of that ball of heat from above. The wind and warmth worked together in harmony without overpowering one another, helping to establish comfort. Finally, the weather was perfect – ideal temperatures and beautiful, clear skies. With a sunny and cool day, it was a relief that Athens was not cursed with scorching temperatures or with an incessant downpour of spontaneous rain. I wished I could turn back time and pause this moment in order to immerse myself in nature’s scenic beauty. However, I

The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.