In the Year 2025

The thundering sound of the bomb blast could be heard for miles. Men, women, and children run frantically in order to find shelter, being blinding by the massive amounts of dust that have caused the sky to turn yellow. Mothers are scavenging for their children, who were playing games outside, now stuck deep in the rubble of buildings that have collapsed on top of them. Houses have been destroyed, families have been obliterated and innocent lives have been lost. For many around the world, situations like these have become a part of everyday life. In A Pure, High Note of Anguish, author Barbara Kingsolver describes the confusion and questions that arose after the terrorist attacks in New York City on September 11th. 9/11 was the largest terrorist

“After abandoning everything in our home, everything my parents had worked for, I was met by assault rifles, searchlights and quarters too small for the amount of people it accommodated” my grandfather assured. The property, belongings, jobs and businesses were all left behind in the rash fear

Although, the reader has experience a home invasion four years ago but thankfully no one was present during the time. Those robbers did take away valuable items but life is more important than those items that can be easily replaced. It’s sad to see many stories of home invasion since that’s when people want to rest and be worried free. But, today robbers continue to hunt down house to steal valuable items and hurt the homeowners if needed. All we can do is take precaution of all the stories to keep not only our neighborhood safe but the

When they did not, I knew I had to leave. The closer the Calusa walked toward us, the farther I attempted to walk away. Yet, as if by God, my gun randomly fired. And it hit one of their homes, breaking parts of the wooden structure. The Calusa viewed this as the first mark of war, and attacked, which, of course, led to Spaniards attacking. By then, I was sprinting away; I could not take the fear within me. It was always eating away at me. The guns, the animals, the natives, everything was out to get me. I was never so homesick. And I began to even cry a little, once again, alone in the

Karly Segrave was a fifteen year old girl when Hurricane Katrina Hit. Her mother worked at St. Tammany Parish Hospital, so when it was time to evacuate she stuffed everything she could into a backpack and went on her way. Most of the employees at the hospital brought their familys with them, so space was limited. Karly slept under her mothers cubical for three weeks. “At first it was fun,” she watched movies, played games, and had tons of people to talk to. Then days turned into weeks and the hospital begun to run low on food. She began to realize that it wasn’t all fun and games.

Outside, a deep silence fell over the neighborhood. This silence crept into every household. Members of the community had a guise of anger and pain expressed on their faces. Everyone locked themselves inside, to lament such a tragedy that has brought sorrow to a twelve years old’s family. Parents fell on their knees with tears in their eyes. This last murder represented the final straw. So many of their own had been murdered by the malicious, metallic, monsters that were supposed to be the defenders of their community. They felt insecure, threatened by the

It was a seemingly ordinary California night—warm and peaceful— as I turned a corner and walked down a street of makeshift tents, the only place hundreds of men, women, and children could call their homes. The smell of alcohol and trash was overpowering. Used needles and garbage were everywhere. People picked through the trash searching for anything that could keep them alive. The street was eerily quiet as everyone kept to themselves. These people were suffering, and I could not bear to watch any longer.

America’s History was A huge string of events and I can tell that our land of freedom has been through tough times in all of the earth’s history. I see it now that things still aren’t as safe from hardships of then, The shooting at Las Vegas, The most recent fires, and most crimes that are still being committed. People say that they lost hope in this country, but I still have hope for the best of our country to be at its best. Though most don’t realize it, but we have a huge amount of technology that is used all the time to solve problems but is never used.

The stone streets were a veil at this time of night, with who knows how many menacing horrors hiding behind the curtain. The lingering gas hovering over the ground was timid, dispersing at the sight of anyone who strayed near. The moon tried to pry into the city’s shadows, but it was too thick to cut. The buildings were nothing but faded memories: gray, eroded structures that once boasted splendor and beauty. Street rats, both rodent and human, scuttled about in the alleyways, knocking assortments over and fleeing if anyone walked past, just like the gas. A dog barked in the distance. Car horns blared on 5th Avenue nearby. Tank sighed. No place like home.

It was like two hands intertwining together when the moon’s light peeked through the gargantuan sycamore trees. We are on the treacherous run to freedom, and I am eager to get there. Because of my bistered skin, I was shackled and cuffed, and forced to work in a field my whole life without my family. If all goes well tonight, I will be a free man who makes his own decisions instead of having everything forced upon me by an austere master. It seems like we had been running for days and my feet had never felt pain this agonizing until now. We slid through the woods like a snake slithering towards its prey until we began to hear voices. They echoed through the trees and would not stop. Ducking behind opaque bushes, we waited for the signal

Through the angle in the screen door I saw my father who had been walking into his room wheel around on one of his rubber-booted heels and look at her with his blue eyes flashing like clearest ice beneath the snow that was his hair. His usually ruddy face was drawn and grey, reflecting the exhaustion of a man of sixty-five who had been working in those rubber boots for eleven hours on an August day, and for a fleeting moment I wondered what I would do if he killed my mother while I stood there in the porch with those three foolish mackerel in my hand. Then he turned and went into his room and the radio blared forth the next day’s weather forecast and I retreated under the noise and returned again,

Monique and her family have experienced many incidents in her Liberian homeland that will have a lasting effect on them. The probable psychiatric effects of living through war, bombings, and destruction of your own village as you flee from it, are sure to play into the psyches of folks long after being removed from the immediate danger. Though the initial removal from this scene must surely be a relief, the overall toll it takes on folks would be very disturbing and burdensome. The worry of loved ones and friends left behind, and of losing your home and effects surely must be overwhelming. Even Monique’s family’s escape experience was harrowing with going through the checkpoints, being detained and the car being searched, and lastly, that final

By the time I arrived home, sirens were blaring all around me. It sounded like they were moving in a ring, slowly converging on me like a pack of wolves. I pulled into the driveway and saw that my house was still standing. It didn’t look like there was much damage. My neighbor’s house, on the other hand, had been flattened to a pancake. I walked in the front door and I finally saw the damage. Shelves were down, the refrigerator was leaning against the island, all the contents of my cupboards were laying on the floor, and the top of my oven had shattered. Even though it'll take a lot of work to clean the mess up, I was grateful that my house was still standing and I was uninjured. I went into the living room and the TV was still intact, so I turned it on and switched to the news. That was when I saw the

The chattering of my teeth echoes through the old and musty alleyway, snow covers the ground like a soft blanket. It’s Christmas and I could the joy of laughter through the walls of the homes, but I wasn’t the same. I became used to the aroma of the alleyway after residing here for many years, the government drove me out of my home and all of my possessions I once owned are absent. In addition, the government forced me to work, I earn no money, I’m not given a home. Sadly for them, I am a moneymaker. Graffiti with inspirational messages became marked off with the words, “Canceled” or just have an “X” marked on it. Although i’ve attempted to fight back, the government pushes back vehemently, I became isolated in this fight, I only have myself.

Then I faced an uncomfortable fact: I was hungry. Really hungry. The sun was going to come up in half an hour, and already the sleep-need was sapping my strength. I looked at the aging food in my refrigerator and in the cupboards: just stones and tree bark, inedible. I thought about my next night on duty, the victims we gathered up from streets and nightclubs, the shootings, the stabbings, the beatings, the blood.