During the second to last week of summer, I traveled with my family to Cedar Point. Cedar Point is a sprawling amusement park with a wide variety of thrill rides, roller coasters, water slides, and entertainment. The park is located near Lake Erie in Sandusky, Ohio. It is the second oldest amusement park in the United States, as it opened 1871. Cedar Point is considered by many to be the “Roller Coaster Capital of the World” because of its record breaking seventy-one thrill rides which includes a total of sixteen roller coasters. I had been to Cedar Point two times before but this was my first time going back in three years. I was excited for the trip because there were many new rides and coaster that I had not
Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.
Baghdad, Iraq is where I was born and raised; I lived there for about 6 years during the most pivotal years of the war. My dad left when I was about 7 months. He went to Lebanon to live for a few years before settling in the United States. My mom took care of me and my siblings. War was going on in Iraq; people walked with a dying heart. Iraq was split into Shiite, Sunni, and Christianity. Sunni and Shiite do not have any issues with one another, but there are people who do not like the Shiites and caused civil strife between the two divisions of Islam. My family is Shiite and we do not believe in a separation between anyone because we are one, they are
It was a cool November day, in the middle of Afghanistan. As a medic, I was sitting outside my make shift aid station with one of my buddies sharing stories about home. We hear a loud explosion right outside of the wire. I looked up and could see the cloud of smoke billowing up from about two hundred meters away. Not knowing how bad the situation was, I grabbed a few of my soldiers, our translator and my aid bag and ran straight to the smoke. When we got there, a group of civilians were huddled around a group of people who were yelling, screaming and crying. The translator found out that a group of three men and three children were walking around a field when one of the children stepped on a mine. One of my soldiers grabbed the mine
For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled
It was a cold day in November as I scampered out of my Biology class, unsatisfied with the grade that I had received on my exam. I rushed to the basement of my campus’s athletic facility brimming over with frustration and quickly tossed aside my school supplies in exchange for a pair of soccer cleats and goalkeeper gloves. I threw over my grass-stained gray cotton sweatshirt, stepped outside to the bite of an approaching winter and joined my comrades in our warm-up lines. The boys were all laughing and talking about what happened over the weekend as we prepared for another practice. Being surrounded by my teammates made me forget about my worries and allowed me to disappear into the routine of physical activity. My collegiate varsity soccer
Have you ever just wanted to accomplish something, but you were just too lazy? Well, that was my case. It all just started in the beginning of 7th grade. It was fun and all, but then, P.E. started, I wasn’t used to the running and social activities at all. It was very difficult at the beginning of 7th grade but it got easier after a few weeks passed. But then, my P.E. teacher, Mrs. Gavello, warned her class that the mile was going to be in a few weeks. When I heard the news, I literally went on the ground and cradled myself saying “I’m not going to do good, I’m not going to do good, I’ll fail.”
“We don’t have anytime time to waste today guys, get moving!” my mom announced. My brother was coming today and she wanted the house to be spotless. We had just started fall break and I was in the fourth grade. I was playing games and relaxing like any 10 year old would do. My dad was lounging on the couch watching some show, and my siblings were running around. By then I had only 5 siblings, 2 sisters and 3 brothers. We had known for a while that Johnny, age 9 at the time, was coming to live with us, what we didn’t know was that he would bring with him a fish. I was happier than a child opening presents on Christmas. The fish was a beautiful white male betta with long flowing fins. He lived in a small 1 gallon tank with blue pebbles, pointy
I do not belong to an American lineage. I originate from the beautiful country of Nigeria, in West Africa. My grandfather once told me a special enlightening statement that I will never overlook. “Life without knowledge of one’s roots is useless. Once you truly begin to learn and experience your roots, your perception of life fluctuates.” Nigeria is the home of over 500 languages. My grandfather can speak and comprehend English, French and my tribal language Yoruba. 10 years ago, my family held a reunion in Nigeria. Every individual family member there communicated by speaking in French and Yoruba, however, I stood there bewildered.
I remember when I was a little girl so innocent and carefree, everything was just so enjoyable. going to the lake the smell of the fresh clean air, the sight of clear flowing water and the laughter of my sisters and I. I was the youngest of three sisters (no brothers). my sisters always protected me and always showed me how much they loved me. well we all grow up as a child you have no worries and no clue of the realities of life ahead until we are "Grown" .
My guilt was trapped behind my heart, knocking and pinching at the organ to open up and let it free. But I found a secret route. It could leave without anyone knowing it was even there.
August 20, the day I have dreaded since the end of school last year. Hi, the name’s Francisca, but you can call me Fran. My life has kinda sucked ever since my brother got lost nine years ago. My parents have looked for him ever since. They said they would at least like to find a body to have peace that he isn’t suffering. I have dark, almost black hair, and eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. My two friends, Jess and Kate, are the closest thing I have to best friends at the place people call getting an education. Otherwise known as college. I’m also starting my sophomore year in college at Mead University. Well, let’s get it poppin’.
I was sitting in my room eating a ham and cheese sandwich when all of a sudden I heard a loud bang on my window. Startled I tip toed over to the window curious to see what made the sound. As I moved the curtains slowly, I found I was now face to face with a tiny little fairy. She was no bigger than a roll of paper towels and smiled while rubbing her head and staring back at me. I slowly opened my window as not to scare her, but also scared for myself because I had never been seen a fairy in real life. As the window opened enough for her to fly through she came fluttering passed me and rested on the end of my dresser. I stood in amazement as she dusted herself off and continued to rub her head. I managed to muster out a few words, “who are
I softly said to Scar “I’m sorry, I’m too late.” We hugged with each others tears flowing onto our backs. But Scar wasn’t done fighting, she whispered to me,
Dad was enjoying this, too, but was getting a little tense, he said, “Grab the ropes with your