Jarrod's Alternate Ending

“…dragged from the house on his knees. His face was bloody and when he tried to speak he cried with pain.”

Have you ever went through a heartbreak? Do you remember detail by detail a certain event. Do you get sad or happy when that memory comes to mind? Daniel Halpern in his poem “Scars” uses symbolism to talk about these subjects because it tends to move on a deeper level and bring a subconscious connection to the poem, he uses foreshadowing to let the reader’s know something important is coming up, lastly the author uses flashback to present past information relevant to present situations. Using all the literary elements Daniel Halpern creates a relatable poem discussing scars and how they remind you of your stories even when your heart can’t. Your scars are part of who you are as much as your heartbreak. The heart doesn’t remind you of what you need to remember, a scar can come from a good and bad experience. In the poem “Scars” by Daniel Halpern, he uses symbolism, foreshadowing, and flashbacks creating a strong, powerful theme, you will always remember your past experiences.

As she hastily made her way through the long-winded hallway, the realisation of her husband being away at war suddenly hit her. The delight evident on her face swiftly turned into an expression of extreme woe. Heartbroken by the fact that he was missing this major milestone, her eyes were a waterfall, dripped with salty tears down her

Born Marguerite Johnson in St. Louis, Missouri on April 04, 1928 was most known for her different types of writing. Johnson’s writing included novels and poetry, her use of words brought more attention to the black community to make them more confident and to give them a voice. Her work

“But I was.” Derek replied. “I just,” he looked around the room remembering his condition. “Never mind its nothing.” The overworked, annoyed nurse stormed out. Derek’s eyes teared up as he remembered how things used to be, which now seemed like a lifetime

Stanford feels his phone vibrating. He pulls it out of his pocket and sees that it’s Jamie calling. He pushes answer and brings the phone to his ear, “Nice to hear from you again, Jamie” He says kindly.

“MUM! Wait!” I yell. My throat is sore, partly from the yelling, but mostly from the running. The thick, night fog blocked my vision of the path ahead completely, only allowing the occasional glow of the street lamps come in sight. I don't remember why I’m running or where

I came to a halt. My hands were bloodied and bruised. I finally let out the tears, and it wasn’t because of the pain I inflicted on my hands. It was realisation of losing my friend. Maybe we would have been more than that, even- if he was alive. I heaved, I whimpered, I couldn’t breathe. I yelled in agony, my fists didn’t hurt like how my heart

He lay crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, enmeshed in his garments, blood, and darkness. Only the purplish light created by each resounding boom of thunder cast light upon his hunched body. Thoughts rebounded back and forth in the skull of Brother Malcolm: “Agh, the agony I declare, the outjutting bone of my spine spars into the harsh rocky floor.”

I managed to get to the pod and to Charles before Fredrick, but it wasn’t easy. The boy was on my heels the whole damn way. I slammed the door to Charles’s room as I entered, locking it, and then turning to a very surprised Charles standing by his window. “You two looked like seagulls going after one prey.” Fredrick banged on the door behind me. I tried to ignore his squeaky threats to barge down the door. He probably could, but he wouldn’t get past me. Not yet anyway. “You have to tell him Charlie.” Charles’s relaxed grin immediately turned into a sour frown.

Your heart is large and you are gentle and kind, and I know you will do great things in this world” But the war, his arm, the course of things—it had made his heart much smaller … [he] understood that she had once admired him, there was something in him she was grateful for even if she could not love him. That part of himself he’d lost over the years, that was the part that was gone.

“Brodie?” asked Tess, looking into the hole. “Go away,” sobbed Brodie. Tess sighed, “We won’t let you You were there for me and helped me when everyone else ran away.” “And the time I fell off a big rock and broke some of my tail spikes? You were there and even made sure I got home safely.” said Tess.

(Dan I have to go back I have to refresh) (go, I’ll be fine) 5 In Anniston, Abra opened her eyes and drew a large, gasping breath. Rather than jewels, her tears resembled a steadily rushing stream. She held her neck gingerly, rubbing at it and at the same time attempting to conceal

Evan dropped down to his knees still holding an unconscious Alex and now bleeding out of his left bicep where the broken glass had caught him. “Help us please!” he cried out to the officers. “My wife, Felicia, been shot. Oh, God please help us!!!” “Is the shooter still inside?” asked

Kristien was struggling to sleep. It was night, she knew, because Israel had told her good night. Her wrist hurt really badly, but what could she do, she was a prisoner. It wouldn’t hurt as much if the cuff wasn’t pressing on it, but the cuff was, and she couldn’t move the cuff, it was secure. She knew what had happened. Chandrogana had accidentally hurt her wrist, but she didn’t know if it was just twisted, sprained or broken. By the time the doctor came to see her, her eyes were watering, it hurt so badly. The doctor came in, and didn’t say a word to Kristien. Just went to the panel in the wall. He scanned his handprint, and then typed in instructions. The one cuff on her hurting wrist, the left one, uncuffed, and Kristien felt a little bit of relief. But it was still very, very painful.