Maybe Later Essay

While exploring her room, the narrator notices that “on the white ceiling… [there is] a blank space, plastered over, like the place in a face where the eye has been taken out.” (9) She

Reading this book I was relating to Alex, whom is the main character. Feeling Trapped. In the first scene Alex was robbing a house, he then was caught and was framed for murder of his friend who was helping him rob this house. He was then sentenced to Furnace, a “jail” that was hopeless of escaping. Throughout this novel Alex feels trapped, with people who hate him and belligerently beat him up. These people belong to a gang who call themselves “The Skulls”. There is only one way in and one way out. Trapped. Helpless. I felt helpless when I had too much homework all do the next day. What no, Yes! Procrastination. ☺ I had a paper, 100 pages to read, and a couple packets in German to do. But wait there’s more, oh yeah; I also had Play Practice and a workout going until 7:30 that night. Ugh. But like Alex, I kept going I didn’t stop thinking and doing, I kept going; I stayed up until even the owl went to bed. Alex didn’t stop. He had grit! He planned escape after escape, plan after plan until one day he felt a great sensation near a door, it felt good on his skin and made him feel better. Fresh Air. After that feeling he never let go, planning how he could get through this door without being in jeopardy. Finally, the day had come; the black suits all went into their offices and he took his chance. Alex scrutinized the bolts holding the boards together, and then struck them hard. The board came lose and was able to sneak through. He explored the cave; it was massive! He kept going, turn after turn in this huge cavern, until he found what looked like heaven to him, a way out, a river. Roaring like a lion ☺, the river was his play. The only problem was this: “Our way out was no wider

Writing has many tools and devices that can be used to influence the purpose and meaning of the a piece of work. In the two pieces of work, "Private License Plate Scanners Amassing Vast Databases Open to Highest Bidders-which is written in a way that it is anti-license plate tracking- and "Who Has the Right to Track You?'-which is written to be for license plate tracking- many different tools and devices are used by the authors. These pieces of work describe the benefits and drawbacks of collecting data and tracking fellow citizens, but use different forms of pathos, ethos, and logos to portray what they are trying to say. Also, both articles state how many are opposed to this tracking, arguing that it is against the First Amendment,

Although secure in her makeshift safe house, she was by no means sheltered from the insidious scratching. The scratching was joined with another sound, one not so alarming in tone. It was a baby’s sob, sounding so hurt and in need. All of these things pounded in the girl's mind. What if it was her baby doll? Her baby needed her. She couldn’t reject her little helpless baby.

Gasping for air, and pushing an invisible ‘something’ away from her, Charity sat up with a start, gulping air into her lungs. It felt as if her breath was suddenly squished out of her; however, it was not a scary feeling. She remembered a dark shadow hovering over her, then consuming her, momentarily smothering her. At first, the shadow radiated love, compassion, and understanding- feelings that returned once she could breathe again.

One night, thoroughly past her bedtime, Georgiana crept stealthily downstairs to sneak a bite of pie, even though her mother would never approve. She immediately realized a heavy drape of desolation. The only noise was her heart beating to the rapid rhythm of the twitching fan. Georgiana thought that no one would be awake at one in the morning. She slipped through the doorway into the kitchen. For an instant, her heart stopped. A dreadful sight stood in her way. An innocent and isolated individual lay with his hand grasping for life, but it was already over. Taking a step back, she

During our last meeting, you requested that I review LabCo’s accounting policy over the revenue treatment for your contract with Halibut Inc. After reviewing the various requirements of the Financial Accounting Standards Board (FASB) Accounting Standards Codification (ASC) 250-10 and 605-35, I conclude that:

She struggled out of her restless sleep. Rolling on the ground she found herself trying to break free from the grasp of hate. On the cusp of barbarity, she finally woke. She rubbed her eyes awake and sat vigilant, isolated by her own thoughts. Iron bars, circling her cage, tainted the lively fragrance of spring.

Allie woke up and came to consciousness, elated to realize it was simply a nightmare. Her room was pitch black as she gazed around the walls of her room. Rain pounded against her window and thunder was booming off in the distance. A sharp crack of lighting lit her room. With the flash of light, Allie saw her mother covered in blood laid back in a chair across the room. She leaped out of bed to find help, only to see her blood stained father’s grinning face blocking the

Immediately after Bob Rae assumed power, the economy of Ontario began collapsing due high rates of joblessness, rising deficits and the government consequently lost the support of the business people who have a significant impact on Ontario’s economy. (News in Review 2002) The worst mistake they made about their chances of reelection was the decision to introduce a policy to limit the wages of workers in the public sector who had formed groups that supported the policies of NDP unconditionally. (News in Review 2002) Under Harris, the Conservative party canvased voters to gain insights into their opinions on a range of issues such as tax cuts, reduction in welfare, bootcamps for lawbreakers, and the abolition of positive discrimination

When she awoke the skies were gray and gloomy, the air suddenly was cold and felt as though it could cut like a knife. Something felt out of place, but Lori could not put her finger on it. Her feet hit the floor, and began looking around only to see that she is all alone.The place that once was warm and welcoming now is all but that. The frail girl screams loudly, when there is no reply, she knew something must be terribly wrong.

She decided to look down for the rest of the walk after getting glared at by a passerby. As she was watching her feet and skipping over the cracks in the pavement, something had yanked the back of her jacket. Whipping around, Becca saw a shambled family. They were tan and soaking wet; their cardboard home shaped the background of the frightening portrait Becca was faced with. A wave of angry words, desperate words confronted her, echoing without meaning her mind. The mother of the two children fell to her knees weeping, pleading for something Becca would never exactly know. The daughter, the girl Becca realized pulled her jacket, stared at her. Dark chocolate colored eyes were melting with the heat of her pain and her brittle lips smoked with the speed of her pleading words. Becca was being pulled away unknowingly when she heard a familiar rumble coming from the pit of the girl’s stomach. And just as soon as the encounter had happened, it was over. Concern replaced the sound of desperation and she let her family know she was fine. She went back to looking at her feet. In a couple of minutes, Becca’s family arrived at the

I find this interesting because these are the symbols found in Speak, so this could be a message from Laurie Anderson.

Tutankhamun (Tutankhamen) was born in Egypt in 1341 B.C. In 1323 B.C. Tutankhamun died of an unknown death; he was only 17 or 18 years old. Before he died he got to live a short time as a ruler. After his body was exhumed, there have been signs that Tutankhamus could have been murdered, or died from an infection from an injury. “Historians generally agree that he was the twelfth ruler of the 18th Egyptian Dynasty, who assumed the throne when he was eight or nine years old. Before puberty he was married to his half-sister (or, possibly, niece) Ankhesenamen, daughter of Queen Nefertiti. He reigned until his death in his late teens. Some studies of his remains suggest that he was

The human body is the original story. One that is always in flux due to biological, psychological, and societal considerations. In crafting a story, there’s no such thing as perfection. Each person’s narrative comes together—by the page, sentence, word, and punctuation. Our individual and collective experiences are all a part of the reality we ascribe to ourselves and the world, and like with any draft, parts of it may be scrapped for something new.