Short Story : ' Lost '

As I helplessly watch my fifteen year old roommate fall to pieces in front of me, I feel everything around me slow to a crawl. Blood pounds my ear drums, I feel the color drain from my cheeks, and my feet take me forward as if they have a mind of their own. I fall to my knees and suddenly everything speeds up again – the pounding in my ear drums intensifies, my hands are trembling but I manage to grasp the side of the bed in an attempt to bring myself close to her. Her face is buried into her sheet. Muffled screaming escapes her as I whisper gentle reassurances in her ear, hoping with everything I have that she can hear me. I know she doesn’t. Even if she does, she can’t make sense of it right now. She’s stuck somewhere else, somewhere she revisits every day of her life and every time she closes her eyes to sleep.

I came home one day to see both of my parents sad. As a third grader, I didn’t completely understand at the time, but my father had been laid off from the job he’d had since his teenage years. My father had started at the age of eighteen as a student worker at Southern Miss, and after years of hard work he had been promoted to the manager of shipping and receiving on campus. When the recession struck, the need to save money resulted in his position being terminated. My father was without a job. My father loved that job and when he lost it, he changed. He found a new love, alcohol. He let his love for alcohol become an addiction. He would do anything for alcohol; he even had secret stashes when my mom had removed all the prior alcohol from the house. Quickly my father became a violent drunk and began to routinely beat my mother and me. He became unstoppable; no person could get him back on track so my mother, in an attempt to keep me safe, removed him from the house. Even my mother’s best efforts weren’t always enough, as my father constantly broke into our house. One day my mother and I came home and my father was waiting in our den with a gun. We walked in, he pointed the gun at us, and then back at himself. He couldn’t decide to kill my mother, himself, or just all of us. He had more hatred in his eyes

This fiction novel published October 10, 2010, about Greek gods, goddesses, and their children is a sequel to The Percy Jackson series. It is full of adventure, suspense, and just the right amount of romance. It is The Lost Hero by Rick Riordan. The Idea for The Percy Jackson series started as a bedtime story he told his son, Haley, about ancient Greek heroes. Since his son had been diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia, all the demigods in both The Percy Jackson Series and The Lost Hero have these disorders. The intended audience for this book is young adults/teens.

I find myself looking over my shoulder every time I step outside my front door. Violence has opened my eyes and destroyed my dreams of peace. When I first moved to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico, I moved into a neighborhood that was full of gangs and drugs. Philadelphia represented a new start, a chance for me to breathe again. I had experienced a tragic shooting right before my ten year old eyes in Puerto Rico; my mom’s best friend was killed, while the murderer calmly walked away. We escaped to Philadelphia, and I thought my days of witnessing horrific violence were over. However, my dreams were shattered like gunshots in the night. One day, while I was napping, I was awoken by a series of deafening pops. As soon as I heard them, I dropped

I keep going to school to get a education but my sister Rebecca stayed home to help my mom because she is the oldest of us all. The 7 of us are still alive. I have 3 brothers who are Brian, Andrew, and Alex and I am the fourth one Miguel. I have 3 sisters Kylie, Natalie, and Jaydyn. The bullying got worse but I don’t care. We had no school this weekend so I went to help my mom in doing stuff. One day a tractor came and destroyed our shack because it was on private property. Then, I rebuild it somewhere not far from school rather close to it like 3 blocks away. Finally, I started earning money and bought a

Everyday was like walking on eggshells because of the anticipation and fear of not knowing what was to occur on any given day. There were days when everything was calm and serene and other days filled with chaos and wretchedness. Life was like a roller coaster ride that never ended. My parent’s motto was, “Children are to be seen and not heard”, my brother and I never dared to tell anyone else or express our feelings about the traumatic experiences we were going through in our home. I can’t speak on behalf of my brother but I grew up having low self-esteem and being afraid to speak around many people because I always believed I didn’t have a voice that deserves to be heard. Therefore, up to this day, I’m still working on learning to overcome my fear of speaking in front of others and building the confidence to succeed in life. This has been the most difficult task for me to accomplish because my past experiences have been ingrained in my mind and

The need to feel a sense of belonging is a powerful and universal one. This sense is formed from connections made with others. The result can be a range of emotions, from an increase in the feeling of security and self esteem, to feelings of unhappiness and loneliness. When someone does not fit in, often because they are different, the negative emotions that they feel can be very harmful.

I am going to sleep in my own bed in my home; as I sleep, a familiar scent slowly starts to fill the air. I wake up in a cold sweat; I know he is there, in my house. I don’t open my eyes because I don’t want to know how close he is, but I can tell he is still in the hallway; the scent is not strong enough yet. I listen with all my might, hoping I can hear the carpet moving under his feet or maybe I will hear his breath first. The carpet gives it away, he is entering my room; I can feel him standing over me for what feels like a lifetime. I’m so careful not to change the pattern of my breathing for fear he will know I’m awake. He turns and walks out. Now I’m listening even harder, and my heart sinks when I hear it. My mother’s gasping breaths, I know he has her by the throat. What do I do? I’m only fourteen, by no means large enough or strong enough to stand up to him, so I stay and pray he won’t hit her again. Then the shouting starts. He accuses her of running around on him, with her boss, the neighbor, and every other male she has come in contact with. He screams at her to take off her clothes, he wants to see her

Throughout my childhood my mother had severe bipolar disorder and took her daily rage out on my three siblings, my father and myself. My oldest brother, Nick, was impacted by her behavior and grew into a violent child. When my parents were gone Nick was the babysitter. I was weak and defenseless—an easy target for the outlet of his anger. He formed an alliance with our siblings and tormented me with every opportunity. Eventually, I developed a fear of my siblings in addition to my established fear of my mom. This fear turned into depression and self-doubt. For years I dreaded being at home where I was blanketed by harassment and blame, so I actively sought out opportunities to escape.

Ellie and I lay in our beds, neither one of us knew what to say. In the other room, our host parents were arguing. We didn’t know what about, but we knew it was serious. Then we heard a “THWACK” followed by silence. Ellie and I sat up in our beds and looked at each other, I could tell she was as scared as I was. “Was that? Did he just?” she asked me. Then the arguing started back up again. We calmed back down until we heard it again. “THWACK” We knew then, the noise we heard, was him beating her. We got up, our hearts racing; neither of us knew what to do. We got our nerves together to go get help. When we opened the door to our room we saw the children sitting on the couch crying out for their mother. I could see the fear in their face and I knew something needed to change.

I knew Nathan had come home, and anticipating the beating he would surely give me for what I had done I sprinted up the stairs and entered my room. The room was dark, the blinds were drawn and the walls that were once a cream colour were now grey. The paint was peeling, and my bed in the middle of the room gave the small space the illusion that it was even smaller. However, it was the only place I had to myself, and I treasured it for that reason. I heard Nathan walking up the stairs, and I hid under my bed and held my breath. I was scared of my brother. He and I were polar opposites, he was muscly and strong, and in terms of personality he was exactly the same as my father, mean and strict. He walked into my room and crouched down, immediately finding my hiding spot and giving a heavy sigh. He held out his hand and I flinched, but all he did was stroke my hair, something he hadn’t done for many

I let out a sigh of relief as I imagined myself being ditched by the so called “full bus” once again, and being left in the heavy rain. I lay my head against the back of the chair as I became conscious of my surroundings. Directly in front of me sat a couple of teenage students, who each wore earphones and were busy scrolling on their phones. Beside them stood a dapper-looking businessman, who was also looking down, and seemed to be texting his loved ones saying that he would soon be home for dinner. The bus was awfully quiet aside from the constant noise of the squeaking windows. That was when I realized that most people on the bus were busy being drawn to their mobile devices, if not looking at the ground with both their ears plugged

How many of you have ever felt lost? At one time or another before we found the grace of God we were lost. We were hopeless, some of us were at the end of our rope. We felt like we had no one to turn to, no where to go,but yet in the midst of our trials, and our storms here is Jesus who is standing behind us and in front of us, saying “you are always with me”. When a person becomes lost, he or she is no longer within our reach, they are lacking assurance of their own salvation at this point, they’ve officially hit a place called rock bottom. As we learn in the Parable of the lost son, a father has two sons,one is greedy and wants everything, the other is “the good egg”. Who is the one who chooses to stay behind and help his family. Let's start off with the bad son who leaves, to spend his earnings foolishly. Naturally as humans that's what our fleshly desire wants, to be greedy. To live in the moment, the oldest son never did plan to return back to his father,he was well established, he was living on his own,he was doing what everyone wants to do eventually, but was he ready for such a big responsibility? This is a prime example of why we must wait for God’s timing time to buy cars, houses and attempting to live the American dream.We need to make

Devastated, I ran to my room gushing my eyes out. All these emotions going through my head of how my life would be without my parents in the same room or even house. From what I remember it all started about mid-June, the weeks before that were crucial. My parents would always argue over how to deal with a situation between me and my brother, Skyler. They hardly spoke to one another, but when they did they would just start bickering. I remember, one night after dinner they both went into ''their'' room with the door locked yelling at one another. Skyler and I didn’t know what to do, so we went downstairs and tried to figure out what was going to happen. With a scared tone I asked if mom and dad were going to get a divorce?" He answered back '' No, they love each other, they wouldn’t do that to us." That following night, was a school night everything was quiet except for my crying. I couldn’t sleep; all I was thinking about how it's going to affect my family.

The city of Johannesburg was established in 1886, when gold was discovered in the area. Soon after many flocked here to find jobs in the mines and other forms of work as this ‘gold rush’ boosted the economy thereby making it the ideal place for job opportunities. Since 1886, the city of Johannesburg has grown both physically and in population size. People from rural areas are constantly coming to Johannesburg seeking jobs, but this has only lead to overpopulation, which has lead to crime, illegal activities, urban decay and many other urban problems. Johannesburg’s past, especially the Apartheid, has created what this city is today. Born in 1995, I am referred to as a “born-free”, yet I do not feel free at all. Johannesburg has created an