Karkat's Thickness: A Short Story

When a student hears or sees the words “required reading,” immediate images of thick, boring books, all the busy work over the book, and the actual reading of the book pop into their minds. Most of the time, these books are filled with boring plotlines and heavy prose seeps out of them like an infected wound. Students often question why there’s a need to continue reading such books, when either students don’t read them at all and use SparkNotes for the tests and quizzes, or the books are too challenging and/or boring for them to get into. Whatever the reason, the relevancy of required readings needs to be addressed, and high school English and literature classes are the prime places to start.

This action is very normal to him since he is crazy already, even though he is neither mad or calm or nervous. Although he loses his consciousness, he still has the ways to hide the corpse -- but he has no consciousness, so he makes the situation worse; instead of confession, he dismembers the body.

I position the knife over my heart and imagine my soul drifting away from the surrounding discord, like a dove soaring into the sunset and away from the scary night. I breathe my last breath before I plunge the knife into my chest. My bullet-ridden body slumps to the floor in agony, as blood gushes out of my breast, flooding the floor. Tyler defeated

He couched down to get a better look and saw the dried blood next to her. It seemed like she had been there for almost a day and she wasn't going to turn, because of the knife wound on the head. Despite her being dead, her eyes were still wide open as if she was surprised before her death. Maybe she was the first victim of the now dead guy. After closing her eyes, he went towards the woman to see if she's fine as she kept closing and opening her eyes. Owen went towards the bag and grabbed a bottled water.

He becomes disgusted with the fact that he would “really take an axe” and crack her head open (page 78). He prays to the lord, “show me the way and I shall give up this - this damnable dream of mine!” (page 79). However, after the incident “his casuistry was as sharp as a razor, and he could no longer find any conscious objections to his plans in his mind (page 89).

When he got into the vehicle. There were medical staff ready to aid him. He didn’t want their ‘help’, he didn’t seem to have a choice in that matter. He felt a needle prick into his skin. Osomatsu felt the cold liquid enter his skin.

There’s no way he can even be able to talk. I thought I was delusional, hearing that once voice again. I had hoped to never hear him again. My arms tried to break free before I did, and the needles plunged into my skin tore out. I arched my back up, my neck slightly moving so I can see for myself the brother who I had supposedly killed a year ago. As I opened my eyes, I stared at the man. He was exactly as I remembered, soft hazel eyes, jet black hair, and a grin on his face. Soon enough, I felt rage course through my veins. I felt no regret for the actions I had done. I swore to myself I would forgive and mend these crucial sins I had made. Here this pathetic loser tried to forgive me. He had a large smirk plastered on his face. Instead, I went crazy. I jumped onto him, smashing his face in and breaking numerous bones. Surely I hadn’t kill him. As soon as he screamed, guards were all over me. This was it. I had blown my one chance to a new life. A fresh start in which I could possibly be happy again.

Bubbles of air escaped my clenched teeth and burst at the surface of the numbing, pink water. I could taste the metallic tang as blood rushed from my lip and filled the pure liquid with its signature color. The bruises on my face ceased their stinging and I reminded myself to not gasp for air, no matter how much my lungs burned.

The man was a whole other story. He would need to be carried, tended to, and rebandaged every few days, not to mention that he was a little too old, and his injury would most likely cripple him for life. It was decided then. Nezzera rolled him over and pulled out his knife. The deadly-thin poignard glinted as it left one sheath for another. The man’s eyes, already wide in pain grew huge in fear. He opened his mouth to speak - to plead or something. Nezzera drew back his arm, and stopped.

A number of trees had fallen, it seemed, imprisoning her in the most terrifying cell imaginable with the worst prison guards ever conceived. A sloppy execution of Parting the Silk dispatched the nearest trolloc, but his heart had replaced his head in the battle. The remaining trollocs saw him, and split, two staying to lord over Caitrin 's personal fire while the other three ran him down.

“Nathan what the hell!” I scream and run at nathan and tackle him. Then run back to the guy and try to stabilize him. The most I could tell is he was losing a lot of blood way too much. He was seizing and I could not stop it I was out of stitches and could not do much else to do. I grabbed a cloth and pressed it to the wound. When I did he immediately started to seize even more. I could tell he was about to die.

He tried to back out of its way, but the creature still managed to charge toward him. It lifted its man-like hand, and sliced into the brim of his shoulder as it ran by. The blow knocked Alan to the ground. The soft mud felt good on his wound.

In the book The Shawl, a family of three are trying to survive the Holocaust, but have to get have to get through hardship, betrayal, and loss. The author use of the characterization helped setup the tone of the story by putting the struggles the small family have gone through.

On the way back, the two were discussing what they might do about all that they had discovered. Karjon was keen to expand his knowledge and discuss with experts in the field. But first he had to find an expert in this field or at least a similar field. If one did exist. He was reticent to blindly accept the premise by Murfon that there was no expert in this area. There had to be someone. The Hive could not be so ignorant about the sky around them to not bother with picking someone to study it.

After the Gujarat riots, which was a three-day period of inter-communal violence between the Hindus and Muslims in the western Indian state of Gujarat. A group of students came together and formed Kabir Kala Manch. A cultural group which, through their music and poetry, took up the cause of social inequality by making people aware on various social issues through their street plays in the city. They fearlessly encourage listeners to oppose government policies promoting economic liberation that conserve India’s social economic division.