On August 30, 1972 Stephen Ernest Carneal was born at Henrico Doctors in Henrico County VA. Janice H. Carneal and Ernest L. Carneal Had their second boy, their first being John H. Carneal. Stephen Went to Richmond Christian Academy for school and liked hunting and and fishing with his dad as a kid. As a teenager Stephen liked hanging out at the mall and the movies with his friends.
Life is like a roller coaster. You will face good and bad, you should always be ready for obstacles such as life-changing obstacles and sacrifices. These three stories will define obstacles that were real life and had to be faced. Coping with an obstacle is very great it can help you with many things to overcome it. To have a great mindset to wanting to achieve that obstacle or get pass it. It can also help with the confidence of the obstacle to wanting to achieve the success.
follows the life of a boy named Matt Alacrán throughout the first fourteen years of his life. In the country Opium during a futuristic time period, Matt lives with his “mom like figure” named Celia, who is actually a caretaker and housekeeper at the residence of El Patron. El Patrón is a very wealthy man who is 148 years old. He manages to live for so long due to his production of eejits, which are clones that he relies on for transplants. With his need to live, Matt is created as a clone. The everyday circumstances that everyone else face, become magnified to a much greater extent for Matt since he’s a clone. Since Matt is technically El Patrons life, he gets special, precautious treatment. This special treatment vanishes when Celia and Matt ally their forces to cease the transferring of organs between Matt and El Patron. El Patron died and Tam Lin, the bodyguard of Matt, was ordered to kill Matt. Since they were close, Tam Lin helped Matt escape to quickly get across the border. Matt just makes it across the border but is put into a home with other orphans. There he makes friends with three boys named Chacho, Fidelto, and Ton-Ton who are partners in his escape. When they finally escape from the boneyard, Matt reunites with Celia to be told that he is not a clone anymore, but a human that is now the owner of Opium.
In the summer of 2015, we went to a garden tractor pull at Rich Hill. That was a great day. It all started because my dad’s friend, David Harreld, had gotten surgery on his ankle and couldn’t pull. He had his son with him and he came up to me and asked, “Hey little girl, are you pulling?”
I always thought I was a water-resistant plant, the kind with thick, rubbery leaves, intended to withstand burdensome rivers of water flowing over them. However, as the murky sky above the Boston Commons spat, each pelting raindrop withered me. How did this happen? I was the girl who flopped her limbs in ‘rain dances’ on the elementary school lawn and begged classmates to scribble ‘precipitation’ on their Christmas wishlists.
Matt stared through the window, thrilled at the thought of what he would do that day.He immediantly grabbed his phone and texted Tommy, "Did you see the snow outside yet!?", Then waited.He soon got a text back saying, "Yeah, hurry and get ready, I'll meet you at Ripping Hill",Matt put his phone back, got dressed in almost three layers, and ran into Anna's room to wake her up.He tuned the light on, jumped onto her bed and bounced until she was awaken.
The night coats the air with darkness as we arrive. The only light is the warm glow of the headlights piercing through the thick blanket of the night, and the moon gazing down upon us. Click, our headlamps go on. We hop out the car, as a rush of whipping wind engulfs my face. The cold night air flows through the stitching of my clothes stealing the warmth from my body and sending chills down my spine. My friend and I search to find a campsite, like dogs searching for a buried bone. Walking, I can feel the crisp grit of sand shifting beneath my feet and hear the wind flowing like a river through the trees. Down the worn path, we hang our hammocks and start to gather firewood. Sounds of machetes striking branches fill the woods echoing
Hillbilly Joe sucked on a hoe. He liked the savory flavor of the booty. This was the penultimate time he would do this, Joe thought. He was ready for the massacre. Hillbillly Joe then grabbed his .45, and shot the whore. He licked her dead ass one final time. Joe soon became the most infamous hoe-hunter in hillbilly
Skylar Hill had always loved beautiful, amazing Los Angeles. It was a place where she felt happy and alive. She was a gorgeous, tall and charming brunette. Her gray-blue eyes caught everyone's attention. Her friends saw her as an attention seeker because she loved every minute of being the center of attention. One day, Skylar was having a rough day when her mother called, telling her that her father had passed away of a heart attack. She went to bars constantly and all she drank was beer. And from that point on, she became addicted to it and drank it everyday no matter what. One day, she received a text from one of her good friends, Doniya. She was inviting her to a bonfire she was hosting outside a camp and basically in the woods. Once she
The police began to piece together a disturbing profile of Willingham. Born in Ardmore, Oklahoma, in 1968, he had been abandoned by his mother when he was a baby. His father, Gene, who had divorced his mother, eventually raised him with his stepmother, Eugenia. Gene, a former U.S. marine, worked in a salvage yard, and the family lived in a cramped house; at night, they could hear freight trains rattling past on a nearby track. Willingham, who had what the family called the “classic Willingham look”—a handsome face, thick black hair, and dark eyes—struggled in school, and as a teen-ager began to sniff paint. When he was seventeen, Oklahoma’s Department of Human Services evaluated him, and reported, “He likes ‘girls,’ music, fast cars, sharp trucks, swimming, and hunting, in
In Ambrose Bierce’s short story, An Occurrence at Owl Creek Hill, a man named Peyton Farquhar is about to be hanged for treason against the Union. While waiting to fall off the bridge to hang, Farquhar thinks back to his wife and child he left back home. He thinks of everything that brings him joy in life before his final breath. He is then dropped from the bridge, but instead of dying the rope snaps and he plunges into the water underneath the bridge. Farquhar eventually escapes his captors and makes it back home to his loving family, once again happy and at ease. Suddenly Peyton Farquhar is dead, hanging from the bridge. His escape was only a figment of his imagination. Bierce uses a plethora of literary techniques to produce suspense in his short story.
It was the end of summer. People were everywhere in the town of morrisville. Sarah was a senior at Louis High, high school. Straight A student with honors. She loved to be on task but she has another side outside of school. She also loved to party, be out with her friends and other people. Many friends surrounded her from all over the school, nerds, populars, even the jocks. She had no idea what it was like to have no friends. At home her life was pretty complicated. Divorced parents, a sister and an Aunt that lived with her. Her aunt was like her other side, loved to party. The only problem with Sarah was that she couldn't find a boy that fit her standards. Every Time a boy would flirt, she would just send them away. If only she knew her dream boy was coming her way. As clueless as can be, Sarah would know soon what true love felt like.
I think it's unfortunate they wouldn't bend on the public shaming, but at least you were able to do something about it on your own. I like your idea of having colors above green to reward the good behavior. As well as putting the chart behind your desk so the students attention wouldn't be drawn to it and possibly embarrass the children that are misbehaving. i remember when I was in elementary school my teachers would make a big deal out of the card system and seemed they would go out of their way to announce when someone was getting their card
This will be nothing like my last story, as I’m such an infant that I don’t have enough information to really grasp just what the future of the internet holds or could hold, so I’ll use my imagination. I also don’t know how to make this into a “story” rather than a “brain-storming session” if trying to follow my interpretation of the instructions.