The Girl The World Forgot Essay

She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.

Seconds had seemed to pass like minutes and minutes like hours. They were addicted, or in love. Neither had been able to distinguish which. He'd spent the days doing everything in his power to find a distraction, pouring himself into his work nine-to-five and then letting a drink, or ten, settle him in the evening. They had tried tirelessly to find a balance but somehow couldn't tune themselves to vibrate on the same frequency. They stood close, cramped up in a corner by clubbers completely oblivious to the energy flowing between them. His surprise to see her was shadowed by the fire in his stomach, he couldn't take his eyes away from her lips, his own tingling with longing for their

The air was crisp and clean, as it was a mild autumn day. Throughout the forest, the sounds of nature could be heard. Birds chirping, leaves falling off trees in the midday breeze. The calm sounds of the woods gave way to a new sound: the gentle humming of a young female wanderer, on a quest to visit her grandmother. She quite enjoyed the sounds and view of the forest, as it was her favorite thing to surround herself with as she was growing up in the village not far from the forest edge. As she strolled through the winding paths of the forest road, she thought of the wonderful experiences of the day ahead with her grandmother.

Though she is weak, she struggles. I whisper soothing words to her as I carry her through the woods; if only she could understand that no harm will come to her by my hand. When she goes still, my heart twists in my chest. She has not left this world, I realize, but is staring at me with an intensity that makes the heat of fire seem dull. This is the first day that I have ever held a life in my arms, and it shakes me. Her soul is laid bare before my eyes, and I wish to shelter it from the snowfall. She does not see this, and though my words may be futile, they carry weight.

All types of horror films are designed to unfold our most horrible fears and insecurities that lie deep within. It successfully focuses on the bizarre and illicit side of life that frights us by playing around our nightmares, vulnerability, and fears of the indefinite. However, despite how chaotic and terrifying these films are, the horror-genre still attracts and repel us. We crave to see the numerous film villains overtake our nightmares and then be defeated by a particular “Final Girl” who normally places society back to its stagnant normality.

Running into the woods Sarah’s eyes fell on familiar sights. Trees she had climbed as a little girl, old trails her father had made, the old stream she loved to sit by and read poetry. Sweet, delicate memories flowed into her mind like warm, caressing fingers attached from loving angels, as Todd pulled her deeper into the woods. The world outside the community is exciting…but this is my home,” Sarah thought as Todd hurried slowed down to help her step over a fallen log

The sun broke through the grey and breathed life into the awakening city. The woman’s eyes though opened, were empty and moved accordingly to the flock of doves that soared through the chilled air. She gazed at the beautifully choreographed dance above where delicate wings formed prominent silhouettes against the comforting rays. The ancient apple tree which only last month was a mess of unruly twigs and withered leaves had now flourish into a bounty of lively red apples that heralded the Springtime. The richness of the sanctuary generated distant and painful memories in her head like the scenes of a tragic movie. She could still picture the remorseful look in the man’s eyes during his last breath. Her father, a man of ambitions and responsibilities, was not the father to throw her into the sky and tell her how much he loved

The Girl Without a Name by Sandra Block It is as normal as a day can get when you work at a psych ward. It’s the usual, people are kicking, screaming, refusing to stay where they are put until an unusual patient is brought in by police. She doesn’t know her name or where she is coming from and it’s up to Dr. Zoe Goldman in The Girl Without a Name by Sandra Block to figure it out. Seems pretty stressful right?

The air was crisp outside his cabin window. Fall’s cold brush had repainted the treetops; in other places perhaps they were a feast of colour, but the oak tree was different. The last piece leaf fell, not with the grace of a feather, but not so direct as a stone. It offers only a little resistance to the air, not knowing that this is its last dance in the sunlight, its last chance to play in the woodland air and that it soon will be lost in the sea of leaves that have already

In Erin Entrada Kelly’s The Land of Forgotten Girls, the majority of characters are dynamic or have the potential to be dynamic. From the main character, Sol, to minor characters such as Mrs. Yeung or Blackbeard, the junkyard owner, and even to Vea, everyone in this story has the potential to grow and change. This was an important factor in the story for me because it shows young readers that their past actions do not have to define who they are as they go forward and that, even if they are on a destructive path, they can make changes in their lives to mature.

Under the tree light has dropped from the top of the sky, light like a green latticework of branches, shining on every leaf, drifting down like clean white sand. A cicada sends its sawing song high into the empty air The world is a glass overflowing with water. 2. I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens[1] and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the riverbed, nothing between me and the white fire of the stars but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths among the branches of the perfect trees. All night I heard the small kingdoms breathing around me, the insects, and the birds who do their work in the darkness. All night I rose and fell, as if in water,

“Girl” written by Jamaica Kincaid is an unusual text that depicts a mоther’s list оf rules that her daughter must fоllоw in оrder tо be accepted in sоciety. after reading this narrative fоr the first time, I read it as a resistant, I had nо idea what culture, time periоd оr what the true meaning behind this list was. I did, hоwever, knоw that it had sоme link tо hоw a wоman has tо behave.

Then, as the last girl passed through, everyone went back to their places. I sucked in a rasped breath as I pushed the red, thick steel lunch room doors. With my hair covering the front of my face like a funeral veil, I examined the hard, smooth marble floors as I shuffled through the sea of shoes until I reached the wall. A hush fell over the crowd as the principal came strolling in. He started giving a speech about the school dance this Friday, yet I drowned him out. Today was January twenty-seventh, Stella’s birthday. I could not hold it in anymore as I sank against the wall, silently letting all the sorrow and despair flow out of me. Two pink sneakers came to rest on the glazed marble floors. “Well, do you not want to join us?” questioned a clipped, sickly sweet voice. Willing myself to raise my head, I slowly brought my eyes up. She was wearing a short checkered skirt with a navy blue collared shirt. I met the girl’s eyes. A shocking electric blue. “Well, are you going to answer me or not?” she asked again. “Um...sure…” I replied, mesmerized by the amount of makeup the girl had on. I felt hands on my shoulders as her crew pulled me to my feet. I stared at the floor the whole time until I reached the designated “popular”

The house was mess. So was her life. Every minute of every day seemed so full. Her days were never ending with ball practice's, ballet classes, school meetings, home meetings, and business meetings; this-that, and the other. She felt

Ever since she had met the man, she had seen the other side of life. This is the world that she now loved. She walks through life with a purpose. To give everyone the key to life.