Richard Cory Creative Writing

"Afternoon, Harry!", Jones spits, his outstretched smile revealing pityingly repulsive teeth jutting out of his face like a pile of mildly-sculpted rocks stuck into the earth by a toddler. I give a slight nod, bringing my attention back to watering my browning larkspur plant I carefully nestled into the soil at the beginning of summer.

I wrap my scarf around my neck and reach down to lace up my boots. Careful not to drop my cross body bag as it swings down, I stand up straight and walk out the door. As I lock the front door behind me, I inhale a deep breath. This is my favorite time of year. The air is brisk, yet the sun is warm on my skin. I begin my walk to work since my car officially died yesterday. This is the third time this month, but I don’t really mind. I love walking when the weather is like this. The sounds of leaves crunching beneath my feet sounds like music.

I couldn’t go to school, and almost failed the fifth grade. After just moving in, leaving all of my friends, I didn’t have the opportunity to make new friends. I am not a person that is OK with not having friends in an unfamiliar area. I wanted to have friends; I wanted to be able to invite people to my birthday party, but my body had other things in mind. Because of Lyme’s Disease, I developed Exercise-Induced Asthma, I broke my back, I will always be deficient in every vitamin, and I will go down at my old school as “the girl that was never here.”

I stood near the steps to our porch and watched as the organized chaos unfolded. The younger boys wrestled on the path and little girls giggled with excitement. Dan Sims was near the spit, basting a boar while the ladies of the village carried platters of casseroles and desserts to the long tables. Trade day was always a celebration.

After moving to a coastal area upon discovering his interest in marine life and coastal architecture, NAME found a significant love for learning about coastal communities and the ocean itself, leading him to visit the local beaches frequently upon his initial arrival.

In 1897, Edwin Arlington Robinson composed the poem Richard Cory. The important message of the poem was beneficial to readers centuries ago and is equally as valuable today. Robinson does a great job of utilizing various literary devices to convey this knowledge and enhance the pleasure of the reading. The superficial appearance of an individual does not define their reality.

Jump!!! My dog jumps on my bed looking at me. I could tell he was going to bark closing my ears from the loud screechy bark. And then he jumps off my bed only to play with his rope. I sit up staring at my phone that was bright I look at my dog waiting for me to get up.

Staring up at the towering, glacier-covered mountain range, I felt impossibly small. My overflowing backpack dug into my shoulders and I bounced on my toes, eager to start hiking before the sun rose too far in the summer sky. Supplied with nothing but what we carried on our backs and in our minds, my family and I were about to backpack into the Alaskan wilderness for a week.

Helga woke up and began looking for a reason to miss school. Finding no reasonable excuse to call absent for the sixth time in three weeks, she grunted and dragged her feet out of bed. Her tan, slender leg waved around the floor to search for the fur-lined pink Crocs she had forced dad to buy her on a recent airport visit. When the pair of expensive fur and foam was finally found, she sleepily slid them on her feet and wobbled to the bathroom.

You could feel the riot before you could see it. There was something else in the crisp early morning New York air, a certain electricity. A certain static that could only have been brought about by the winds of change. Even at three am the city is usually alive, but in these early Saturday morning hours Christopher Street was more alive than usual. However, it wasn't the normal flamboyant energy it had come to been known for. It was an angry energy, one that's only capable of being created by an oppressed group fed up with the constant mistreatment they've too long endured.

" Fuck you too." I groan, my blond hair falling slightly on my shoulder as I look at my clock. 7:00 AM. With only 30 minutes to get dressed, onto the bus, and to my Living Hell, better known as school, and I sigh and get up. As I start to pull out clothes to wear I decide that I'll wear some jeans and my black hoodie with my white FairyTail shirt under it.

Although Summer was coming to a close, the smothering heat had yet to subside. As a result, Alfred Jones was spending his last few days of freedom, relaxing on top his cherry red Chevy truck, sipping cold bottles of soda and whistling old tunes. He kept going over a particular phrase mentioned to him again and again, that vacation always seemed to fly by, but these past weeks, every hour seemed to drag on until every day seemed meaningless. He brought the rim of the bottle to his mouth and surveyed Calamity look-out. Lush trees, cracked roads, obnoxiously coloured houses... Same old, same old. It drove Alfred insane, he was never able to stand the peacefulness of it all, everything in (think of town name later) was so... unimaginative. It

I was here I was walking threw the amazing wooden doors into the most fantastic park. I was standing on the floors of the GREAT WOLF LODGE. I was there with Amanda, Lyla, Calista, and Kira. We all quickly walked over to the check in desk so that we could get our wristbands and bust over to the water park. There were about one, two, three, four five people standing in front of us. While we were standing in line there was an amazing window that was huge and we could see every person and every ride in the park. We saw one of the biggest slides there we say the most crazy slide it was called HOWLIN TORNADO. We finally got to the front of the line and we were ready to get our wristbands on. The manager slipped on a teal waterproof wristband the said “GREAT WOLF LODGE”

I had to move there because of my parents. I could’ve moved into this other one. It was a lot cheaper and the neighborhood was nice. And the house also the house had a lot of rooms and everything. But I just had to move into that neighborhood. My parents knew about it before we ever lived there. Because one of my friends was living there at that time. So when I moved in I met 2 other people. They were nice I guess. And I soon became friends with them. But for some reason I couldn’t do it. Having a lot of friends in a neighborhood. Like 4 years ago I did. But I found a way out in a bad way. I also started making friends in school. I guess it was alright. Nothing special just same old same old. I did what I had to do it was just harder. The work was harder, having all of them friends was harder at the time. And I couldn’t keep up with it. So I guess I started stuff. I don’t remember how it actually happened. The past 2 years was a blur to me. But I guess I did that. And I lost them. And I realized that I don’t need a lot of friends. Like a huge amount of them. I’m fine mostly by

I 'm scared to start over so maybe that 's why I am not going out of my way to make new friends. I tell myself that I should just focus on school, but I know it 's my anxiety telling me that I won’t be accepted. I chose to talk about this experience because this is something i am experiencing now and I knew once i talked about it, I could start making progress to being happy st this school. I don’t really understand why people don’t seem to like but I think it’s just because they don’t know me yet. Ive realized that friends aren 't just going to fall into my lap and I 've already started to sign up for a few clubs so hopefully some good will come from it.