Le Leo's Story Essay: When The Voice Revealed

“Make it all stop...” he whispered consciously. His head began ringing from the sound, his body tensed up and warm tears began to drop from his face. Soon after, he fell unconsciousness and escaped the sounds that haunted him. He felt something warm brush his hand and a whisper in his ear.” Stay... strong... my darling” and his body suddenly felt calm. The warmness drifted away from his hand and He regained consciousness. He found himself still suffering from the shrieks of the fallen. He eyes opened wide, set up, leaned against his sister’s bed and sighed. He pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his leg waiting for the screams to stop. In that moment, area fell into a loud silence.

The wind chime hung from the roof of the abandoned house , it swayed calmly and slowly against the wind , everything seemed peaceful . We - my father and I - sat on the porch of the rundown house that only we knew about . It was dark and

Doors slammed, cars beeped, sirens wailed and jackhammers roared. Jazz bands played songs named after the city. The shouts of children, cops, pedestrians, and merchants were echoed across the street. Common gusts of wind thundered from under the ground as subways passed by. Buildings began to light up to beat the darkness before it came. It was rush hour, but perhaps

Amidst the swirling ripple of faceless people meandering around fire hydrants, pedestrian signs, and ragged newspaper stands, he stood; embedded within the relentless stream of continuous people trickling by him. The occasional nudge threatened to dislodge his balance as he gazed across the road where two buildings laden by carmine shaded bricks separated. The same two buildings he walked directly pass early in the dewy morning and late in the brisk evening weather everyday for the past two decades. Surely he knew every wondering power line and dimly lit alley of the surrounding neighborhood? Yet something glimmered from in between the impossibly small gap separating the buildings. His conscious turned from thought to action as he leapt from the scuffed curb and into the high voltage current of traffic without a second

He was sitting on a worn grey chair, a steady beep filled the room, her cold hand laid in his. Her skin was pale, her eyes fluttered open - just for a second- then they closed again. The beeping starting get louder, it started filling the room, it was pounding in his ears as he yelled and he yelled for someone. Anybody. But nobody came, and then it was too late. She was gone.

The street was eerily quiet as I crossed. So was Mike. Staring at me unwaveringly, he said nothing as I approached. The crow's feet framing his eyes, the ridges in his forehead, and the crinkles in his cheeks still stand out in my mind. How many nights had he lain on that bench, covering his face as the wind whipped against it? Now he hugged his body tightly. He was wearing an old pair of tan khakis, a shirt that I couldn't see clearly, and a light multi-colored jacket, its sleeves ending above his pale wrists, that was just slightly too small and clung to his body. As I gave him the money in my wallet, he took it--slowly--and stared at it for a second in disbelief. Although the street in front of the library is usually an amalgam of car horns, headlights, whining engines throughout the night, nothing--not

The sounds of the city at night mix with the laughter of my friends. Taxis honking, subways rushing under your feet, and buses rumbling, all carrying their cargo of dead-tired, empty-minded passengers, following the daily routine until they reach their doorstep. For once, I 'm not one of them, not riding my train after a long day at school, brain set to automatic. Today, I am wide awake, soaring a thousand miles high.

It was a cold day, so cold that your arms start to sting as if a needle is impaling the surface of your skin. The wind applies a force which feels as if your face is oozing with thick crimson red blood. The gray puffy clouds covered the sky and dropped small snowflakes onto the road’s surface. A man stood there, freezing, clearing the coat of thick white snow from the concrete road. His nose runs with a river of snot that floods out when the cold wind strikes. His sense of smell is heavily clogged by the slimy snot, but he can still smell the scent of the steamy hot chocolate which sits on the top of his snow covered car. His feet start to numb because of the cold flood which soaks through his boots to his white, silky socks. His feet feel as if he stepped into the freezing cold ocean. As if he fell through ice and he was stuck standing there. The vast pile of the ice white snow feels almost like a quicksand around his black rubber boot. Foggy figures of people shovel the big piles of snow off the sidewalks. They scrape and pick at the glossy white ice which sticks to the sidewalk like a little boy clinging to his mother's side. His feet still sting as if he was stepping on pins and needles. His hands are damp with sweat from grasping the curved metal shaft attached to a socket which holds the blade. The blade cuts holes into the thick powdered snow which is removed from the endless pile. The jet black shovel is filled with slushy snow and crystal shards of ice. The end of

His heart jumped straight into his throw as he saw the ground coming at two mph. As he got no less than a foot from the ground he stopped as though some imaginary brake had been slammed.  His first thought was bafflement. This was not a place he had ever seen . Everything looked like it belonged in a museum. But yet here it was . "Hello twilight zone. My name is Dougy" He said thinking aloud. Only one thing remained that he could actually recognize. The tower. Of course. Though it now looked pristine as if it were only a few days old. But of course that was absurdity. He pondered what drugs they had fed to him and whether they could keep feeding it. For once he no longer cared to resist. No one paid him no mind . " Excuse me , said in a man wearing robes that engulfed him from head to toe. I have no clue where i am can you help The man almost leapt forward mouth moving but no words coming out. As Doug extended his hand the man kept walking . He walked right through him. The man shivered but kept going silently muttering. Doug felt as if he gad been doused with ice cold water. No one communicated with each other. All wore the same zombie look. Just as thought of going into a bar he found himself sailing through the tunnel again . This time much

Cows? Pigs? Dead pigs? Dead Cows? Polluted water? The scene pummelled him. Barrages of the distant voices, the clink of the hammers, the gushes of the urgent water sounded to his ears. What he didn’t hear, however, were the oinks of the pigs, the reverberating footsteps of the horses, nor did he hear shuffling cows or birds trilling.

Beatriz Mendez Ms. Apodaca Pre-Ap English 10; Period 5 18 March 2016 Learning About the Past A small interaction can have a huge impact on somebody’s life. Even if it is just a small conversation or a single word, it could change the way a person views the world. Stacey Cruz

“Car horns, shrill and prolonged, blared one after another. Flashing sirens heralded endless emergencies, and a fleet of buses rambled past their doors opening and closing with a powerful hiss, throughout the night. The noise was constantly distracting, at times suffocating.”

He heard a confused music within him as of memories and names which he was almost conscious of but could not capture even for an instant; then the music seemed to recede, to recede, to recede, and from each receding trail of nebulous music there fell always one longdrawn calling note, piercing like a star the dusk of silence. Again! Again! Again! A voice from beyond the world was calling. (107)

Colors The streets filled with noise. The streets filled with lights. The street was alive, but with what; with anger, sadness, joy, or maybe colors, colors that clashed, contrasted, but the street was alive. Filled colors, filled with lights... fueled by anger.

One day, it spoke up. “Hello sir, may I have a minute?” The rain tree, hearing voices for the first time in forever, was startled. He looked around, but there was no one around. I must be so lonely, he thought, I’m even imagining voices.