It is 6 am, and the people of the town awoke to find tons of water pouring into their already dilapidated homes with a deafening roar. Outside, winds of insane speeds battered the homes while icy, awe-inspiring yet daunting water rushed through the streets. As the water levels rose relentlessly, they struggled to escape what was once a safe haven, aware that staying behind meant certain death. The ones that could swim fought to reach the sparse high-rise buildings, but upon arriving found others already there, eliminating any chance of reaching safety. Weak, tired, and terrified, they watched as around them friends and family succumbed to the indomitable flood water. Others screamed for help that wasn’t there, on the brink of insanity. The …show more content…
The sole purpose of her existence lay in the wet bundle in her arms, and as she stared into his eyes she wished for him to live forever. She had lost her daughter in a tragic accident not too long ago, and she had no other family other than her beloved son. He began to cry, hunger and fear coursing through his body. She knew he wouldn’t last much longer, so she desperately looked around for anything to eat. Unfortunately, all she could see was water and darkness and pain and death. She would do anything for him, but now there was nothing left she could do. He was suffering, and she could not stop it. She too began to cry, her hope replaced with the cold truth. Suddenly, after hours of nothing, she heard a faint motor engine. Yes, Yes! She saw the outline of a helicopter headed her way, and she shouted and screamed and waved her arms around. They saw her and swung down a rope ladder, which she clung to desperately. But the winds, so fierce, pushed into her and the rain made her hands slippery. She tried to climb, and she saw her son shivering and barely clinging to life. “Hand, foot, foot, hand, foot, foot,” she repeated to herself like a mantra as she gradually hauled herself and her little boy up towards safety. She was so close, just a few more rungs away. But it hurt so much, and it was too slippery. She felt her son sliding out of her hands, and she screamed, suddenly aware of the inevitable. Soon she was clinging to his small arm with the tips of her fingers,
A woman name Angela Hundley and her family were away on a family vacation in the Dominican Republic. While there Angela ate fish that caused her to become very ill. Two weeks after they returned home from their vacation she was diagnosed with ciguatera poisoning. She could not open her eyes or lift her head. The doctor informed the family that the poisoning was untreatable, and an incurable. Angela felt like she was in a comma, she couldn’t move but she could hear everything. She could hear her children playing but she couldn’t play with them. She remembers her husband taking her to her church for prayer and at the alter she recalls her pastor asking her “Angela have you thanked God through any of this, even if you don’t see another day,
I walked upstairs face red, hands trembling, and body aching. I didn’t even think I could make it up the first couple steps before collapsing into a heap.Before I reached the last glossy maple wood step I heard the sound of little paws and nails scraping, slowly, softly, and sadly through the house. This sound made my heart ache.
We turned back to the display. There they were. Shoes upon shoes; tattered, worn, sad, tired shoes. Some were smaller than my own, some much larger, with every size in between. That is when it began to hit me. I could see the babies, children my age, and even younger, being torn away from their mothers, from their fathers, from their brothers and sisters. I could hear them crying, hear them screaming. I could feel their desperation. I couldn’t comprehend all of it. The laces snaked around each other into an intricate maze. Some were tied closely to each other, some far, and yet they were all somehow connected, just as families and victims alike had all been tied. They had fought together, struggled, lived, died, and survived together. I began to see that the laces were not creating a maze, but a web- an intricate web connecting each and every shoe.
One night, thoroughly past her bedtime, Georgiana crept stealthily downstairs to sneak a bite of pie, even though her mother would never approve. She immediately realized a heavy drape of desolation. The only noise was her heart beating to the rapid rhythm of the twitching fan. Georgiana thought that no one would be awake at one in the morning. She slipped through the doorway into the kitchen. For an instant, her heart stopped. A dreadful sight stood in her way. An innocent and isolated individual lay with his hand grasping for life, but it was already over. Taking a step back, she
She looked at the child, safely in her arms, breathing steadily. She looked at the man, then turned her head at the semi. The semi woman had no chance. She cared for the child, even when it ended her own life. She cradled the child in her arms, quietly praying that he didn’t what had become of his mother. She didn’t know that the child was hanging onto her arm, sobbing into her sleeve. The warm, wet tears on her shirt had brought something out of her. She broke down in the middle of the road. She cried into the bright blue coat of the little boy. He was tightly holding his Teddy bear when she had grabbed him, but when she looked down, he was no longer in possession of such an innocent creature. He dropped it when she had set him on the ground. She stood up, looked at the burning car and semi, and realized that she had saved a person, but she was mostly proud at the fact that she had saved a child, no older than eight years. The police took her, the man, and the child into custody. She walked to the ambulance with the help of an officer. The girl had been silent from the moment that she had put her earbuds in. She hadn’t spoken a single word. Not a single
Love You Forever Analysis Introduction Robert Munsch’s and Sheila McGraw’s (Illustrator) critically acclaimed Canadian children’s picture book, Love You Forever swept Canada and America by storm when it was published in 1986 and continues to do so today (Abe Books, 2014, p.1). Munsch’s heartfelt story is a tale of the unconditional love a mother holds for her son throughout all the stages of his life- birth until adulthood and her son reciprocation of that love in his mother’s old age (Wartenberg, 2011, p. 1). Despite, the child’s wild adolescent behavior and later independent adult life, the mother continues to hold her son in her arms and singing to him, “I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, my baby you'll
You awake with a breeze twirling with the fragments of hair left on your scalp; a dance known only to friends of the oncoming light. You open your eyes only to see the endless ocean in the sky. You do not see your family, nor your friends. You demand your legs and arms to function, they do not. You beg them to work the one time you need them to, and in defiance to the groan of your bones, you stand. You begin to wonder if this is a dream, a nightmare. It’s not real. I will see them when I wake up. They are fine. It’s not real. The earth rises and in its presence is the rubble of your home, your brother’s home, and your neighbor’s home, scattered and utterly destroyed. With a horrible realization, you start screaming for the arms of your children and wife to wrap around you once again. You can’t hear yourself scream. You can’t hear anything except the deafening silence. You drop to our knees while your eyes are drowned in a river of sorrow. Then, you feel the small hands of your children grasp yours with surprising fierceness. Though your wife is nowhere to be seen in the mist of dust, you have never been so relieved to bask in the mist of ruins and death.
I’m too level-headed and I know not to panic in an emergency situation. I see the water rising over the first floor of my house. It starts to rise over the second floor and I can’t move. I can’t do anything to get away. I can’t call for help because I left my phone in my car. I can’t even yell to a neighbor because they’re either dead or gone.
He sat pondering with stinging eyes outside in the frosty evening air. His head was throbbing with a migraine that carried his thoughts to darker times, times that made his heart burn. Times that now caused his lungs to only inhale, that suffocating feeling the feeling of deaths unbearable hug, the engulfment of pain. He had felt it many times before. The anxiety and stomach nausea was almost always with him though only he knew of it. This boy was fluid in the language of pain. For he had the scars the screams and the sorrow to prove it. Currently his lungs began to fail him only allowing an inhale of agony, no oxygen would be permitted to exit, because the panic would not allow it. His eyes begin to blur like they sometimes would and
Smiling, she enjoyed the ride from the grocery store. Excitement building at the thought of the camp-out. They headed toward the church for a 'Royal Scouts' camp-out, when Elisabeth felt the car slow to a stop. Looking to her mother she asked; 'What's wrong mommy? Why are we stopping?' 'Someone's car broken down, honey. So we're just slowing down so people can go around them.' She looked out her window at the little white car stopped on the two-lane bridge. With just barely passing the room, she watched as people moved their cars to the right side of the lane. From somewhere behind their car, the sound of a freight train came squealing to a halt. With a burning smell of rubber, piercing her nostrils, a logging truck whizzed past her window. It happened so fast. When the truck came barreling down the road, it fish-tailed into the back end of Elizabeth's little white car. Shattering her window, Elisabeth as pieces of glass floated through the air and the car turned toward the ledge of the tiny bridge. The ringing sound of her mother's screams rang deep within her ears, as the water on her right slowly came into view. Jerking the steering wheel with all her might, her mother screamed as she desperately attempted to turn it away from the ledge. No matter how hard she tried, the wheel would not move in any direction. It was locked. Her mother threw her hands in the air while
The woman described in this article has undergone countless tragedies. From disease to war, she has experienced something I have no faith that I would be able to endure. The article travels through
I slipped beneath the surface of the pool of grain, my hands sticking straight up over my head as I held my breath, preparing for death. I was preparing for the world to go silent. This was the exact situation my father had warned me about, and I had fallen victim to it despite that. Fourteen years old as of two months ago, and death had already come for me. Or so I thought. I felt firm, callused hands grasp my own, plucking me from my grave. The relief was wonderful. I drank the air in, filling my burning lungs with as much as possible. I almost laughed out of sheer happiness – until my eyes met my father’s.
I just stood there looking out at the dead, mud covered grass sledding hill watching my brother fall out of this sled causing me to laugh. Little did I know this night would be the last night I though God was there watching over me. That hill that almost killed me was a barren wasteland of ice that still to this day scares me. After my dad walked back down and up with my brother it was my turn to go down the hill. I wasn’t nervous, but thinking back on it sends my stomach into a frenzy of butterflies. Anyways, my dad pushed me down the hill, half way down the hill all I remember hearing my dad shout was “Bail out!” What does that phrase even mean to a 6 year old 1st grader who can barely read, almost absolutely nothing is what I questioned in my own mind.
this novel tells a mother’s account of her child’s life, and the moments leading up to its end, conveying the message of what God’s grace - and therefore the belief in - is capable of in the most hopeless of situations
What was the central idea? The speaker’s experience with the failed parachute that made her realize the importance of life.