I Got Like Sewing Needles

Then, I heard footsteps getting louder and louder, so quickly hid in the closet. I could hear my heart beating faster and faster as the person kept getting closer. About an hour later, I saw a shadow of a strangely shaped person leaving the room and locking the door. I was relieved and scared at the same time, I didn't know how to get out. So, I first tried to escape out of the black and blue colored window. It was very hard to open,

For once I felt the sudden need to be near other people, so I headed for the door quickly. The street was deserted. Strewn across the road were all my belongings. Why were they here and not in my cardboard box where I slept in Well Street? Who had done this? Were they thieves? Not that I had much to steal. I began gathering everything up. My blankets had been shredded. There were dents in things, bits pulled off other things and generally messed with. Even the things that used to be usefully were destroyed. Why would anyone even bother to do this? As I looked at my surroundings I began to feel a little disorientated. The ground seemed to move. Then I felt distinctly uneasy. Was he back? At a distance I thought I could see people so I hurried in their direction but they never seemed to get nearer. At once, I was then surrounded by them! No faces! They’ve got no faces! I closed my eyes and when I opened them the people were gone. I suddenly felt as if I was being watched. I glanced around furtively and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a lion! I screamed but it was gone. As I again looked around I thought I could see dozens of pairs of eyes behind every window staring at me malevolently. I turned and ran. Breathlessly, I re-entered the church and slammed the door behind me.

My legs are shaking with pain, but I need to know where I am and what strange things lie outside of that door way. Slowly I am making my way there, I hear people having a conversation just outside. I haven’t a clue what they are saying, it seems to be in some odd language. Finally I’m at the door. Terrified, I grab the knob and start to open it. It squeaks when I swing it open. In the hall I see no one, just white walls with white tile. “What the,” I say to out loud. I could have sworn I heard someone. My eye catches my room number, 387, it has my name on it. I look right and left, but see nothing expect florescent lighting and shut doors. I go to the door across from mine and try to open it. Locked, that’s odd. I try the next one, locked once again. I keep going, now at room 365 I give the knob a turn and it actually comes open. I hesitantly wander into the area. It looks the same as mine, minus the painting on one of the walls. It is an extremely abnormal painting. It depicts an out of the ordinary creature. “Why would this be in a hospital?” I whisper to myself.

I walked down a hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly before me. The frosted glass window on the door that spelled doom seemed to stretch further away with every step I took toward it. My heart began to beat at a more brisk pace, my palms began to sweat, and my eyes narrowed on the shiny clean brass doorknob. I had completely forgotten my mother was alongside me until she had to pull me back into reality. She grabbed my arm and tugged me forward. With slight resistance to her strong grasp we dredged on toward the door. I watched in slow motion as the doorknob turned and a giant mad scientist smiled down at me. The angle of his head allowed sadistic shadows to stretch down upon his glowing evil eyes, and his curled, sinister smile.

I looked back onto the house as if it were a museum, an artifact- perfectly tact cleaned as I remembered back when I was four years old finding a yellow hot wheel sport car on a window seal remembering the hallways much grander and much larger than they were now. When I rubbed my hand against that seal, I expected dust from years of a messy bedroom lived in by twins with too many stuffed animals. There was none. There was none like that matchbox car lost underneath my bed. My mom wiped it down before the endless showings to people who never cared.

To the right of me, the lifeless street was lined up with parked cars that intensely watched your every movement like a predator watching its prey, waiting for the right moment to take its life. On my left were houses, apartments, and businesses that are packed together like little deceased sardines that just stare at you with their unblinking eyes; which are packed together in a small tin can. I stopped in my tracks as a silhouette jumped out of the shadows and into my path. Standing before me was a creature. Odd? I raised an eyebrow at the creature that was four times larger, then the average gray wolf. Its fur mimicked that of

I open the front door and immediately see the 20 x 30 inch portrait we had professional taken last Winter. I see Adayln’s pearly white smile, Mason’s differently colored eyes that gleam brighter than a splash of water in sunlight. Tears rush down my pale face. I walk upstairs and into Kylar’s room. I am welcomed with his scent. His favorite colon, the one from Macy’s that Dad got him on his 8th birthday. He never missed a day without it on. I go to my room and gather my most prized belongings. The blanket that all six of us made at church, the small family collision of Kylar, Mason, Adayln, and I, the beaded necklace that Mason made me for my 13th birthday, the Pandora Ring that Mommy got me when I became a teenager, and so many more prized items that I fill it three moving boxes. I am ready to leave. I walk out and see my family smiling at

We turn down a road that quickly turns into a dirt one. The road was very rough and rugged. There were pot holes everywhere and when you think there was no more it would start up again. The car jerked and jumped and swayed every which way. At one point my head nearly touched the roof, thats how bad the holes and bumps are. The trees curve inward, giving it an arch appearance. It blanketed the road with ominous shadows. The shadows start moving again, not from the wind, but from whatever was hiding among them. Up a little ways I could see a small cabin.

All of a sudden the paint off the walls start to peel and burn away like paper bits. I opened the door and closed it behind me. The walls in there also were peeling and burning away. I was shaking in fear, the walls were nothing but cracked red brick that looked blood stained. I tried to rush down the staircase but the stairs were broken off. As I turned around a large human like figure stood there. I froze as this muscular figure stood in front of me. The abyss below me from the broken staircase started ablaze. What was going on? I wondered, the only thing I knew is I was gonna die right then and there. The muscular figure grabbed me and lifted me up and

The sounds of the city penetrated the walls of the cab as we drove through the streets of Manhattan. I could hardly wait to partake in the action that was happening outside. The buildings themselves were an amazing site to behold. The buildings took on personalities of their own. Each building was bigger and more graceful than the next. When lights were added to the mix it was a dazzling combination. The city itself felt like a great big hug, and I felt overwhelmed by its power. The city allowed me to become part of it just like many others many years ago who immigrated to this awesome city. As I was looking out of the cab I finally got to see in person the sight of all sights; Times Square. The main juncture of

I was giddy to get home i was walking down my my street “ Walkers rd.” I scoffed and roll my eyes. I walk down this road everyday and appreciate the scorching irony every time. I opened the deep oak doors with force. My 13 year old body still has trouble. I shoved the door with the elbow my grey backpack wasn't depending on. Finally when my body managed to push the door, something wasn't right. By that i mean my house wasn't mine… the orchard my mother obsesses over wasn't the center of the foyer , the bright white walls with the complementary purple rug wasn't there. It was dark with a rustic light switch. I hit the light switch and the creepy hospital lights that turn on one by one showed blinding light that settled to a musty yellow

The rusty, metal gate is broken and falling apart. I open the gate to let myself in as the wind blows by gently. The earthy and dead smells, like a cemetery are very unpleasant for me, but I can’t give up now. I need to know what happened to my family before they died. I know it wasn’t a suicide like the police said. I lost my family when I was nine; my dad, my mom and both of my grandparents. I’ve stayed at my aunt’s house ever since. And there’s never a day that I don’t miss them. As I slowly walk toward the house, I can tell how humid the air is, by my sticky skin is rubbing against each other. I’m blinded by the fog around the house as I step closer and closer. The place is silent, so silent that I could hear my own heart beating; fast

Historically, aerial imaging was used for many different task such as map-making, archeology, war strategizing, and environmental studies just to name a few. Accordingly, aerial images give a broad overview of the world and correspondingly provide an insight into human history and human culture. In particular, this image of New York places the vast amount activity that takes place into one framework; this gives us some insight into understanding the urban development that has occurred over the past four centuries, since the land was sold. Over the centuries, New York has grown immensely in population and in urban structures. Compared to the best aerial images we have of New York from the past, this photo is incredible in its overlying density of its buildings that appear to blend together in various shades of blue, red, and

When I walk to the Museum of modern art from the subway station, I notice that most of the districts in central Manhattan put an overwhelming feeling on me. Looking up to more than two hundred meters tall skyscrapers, I feel individual’s insignificance or even fear toward the monster that erects from the ground. Comparing Mid- town to East Village, East Village' buildings are much lower and the relationships with the surrounding and organisms are much more comfortable.

Head rested on pillow as eyes gazed the ceiling. Physically I was there in a room enclosed by four walls, but mentally I was somewhere in a never-ending corridor. Each door led to a moment in time and a person to match, but as day by day became year by year, one by one each door would lock. Each moment in time and a person to match would be incapable to get to. It was as if the person never existed and as if the moments were false memories. “DeeDee, let’s go!” A male voice from downstairs yelled, interrupting my thoughts.