The Killed Man Was Not High On Adrenaline

the streets below, as well as the cries of people that were in the streets looking for cover!

Protests riots in the United States has proven to an issue for both the country’s financial strength and the unity of the nation. With the presence of social injustices, combined with the increased impact of social media propaganda, protests riots are beginning to reach an all time high. Protest riots destroy individual communities and businesses, jeopardizes the safety of others and taints the protest’s cause by resorting to civil disobedience. Action must be done in order to prevent these random acts of violence from continuing after every social hot topic. The goal is not to prevent citizens from protesting; in fact, this should be encouraged. The goal is to change the way the protests are handled from both the citizens and authority perspectives, in order to prevent these protests from escalating into something dangerous.

The sound of blaring car horns and chatter of important phone conversations filled the city of Washington D.C. Men and Women dressed in business attire raced frantically up and down faintly painted crosswalks pushing by me as if I weren't there. A place I once thought was professional and mindful turned out to be more deceiving than I imagined. as I walked through the city I realized it was a place of chaos and oblivious people. I walked around the city for a few minutes before I discovered Pershing Park ( a park known for its protests). Along the perimeter of the park I saw mostly business people walking in and out of government buildings and occasionally a tourist snapping pictures next to a historic landmark.

Page 21 (the ending)- >> … They continued to run, now faster to avoid the sinking sun.

Imagine, smoke in the air. Cloudy and gray outside, with sounds of carts being carried across rocky gravel. The shouts of people talking about politics, economy, and most important, the revolution. You can hear people yelling and disagreeing with others opinions. You are standing in the middle of the rocky road looking around, watching people’s actions, watching slaves work hard, watching women carry babies and holding their children’s hands. Kids leather shoes, clapping against the road, with laughter coming from their mouths. Dogs barking, horses pulling away from their riders. Everything is so busy and loud. You can barely hear yourself think. Shouts come from a small house across the road.

Planning for it was also very challenging, since we did not know what to expect. We thought it would be very calm, but really we had no clue. It was also very difficult to continue protesting when the atmosphere became chaotic. I no longer wished to be within the throng of people because, as much as I was aware that they did not actually care about the topic of protest, they were growing increasingly boisterous. In this way, it was demanding to continue protesting and ignore that the situation was causing me a large amount of stress. However, despite the unfavorable conditions, I did learn a lot because of this

The bright blue sky of that fateful morning soon turned to grey. Smoke and ashes perforated the lungs of escaping people as they scrambled to get to safety. The streets of Manhattan, earlier bustling with automobiles now was a sea of fearful people. They ran as fast as they could, trying to escape the inferno, trying to imagine exactly what had just happened to them. Many were unaware of two planes, many thought it was perhaps a bomb exploding as it had in the past with considerably far less damage to the buildings. It was to everyone’s surprise and horror that the towers

There was a burning sensation going down her cheeks, they wouldn't stop. And no matter how hard she tried to hold it back she just ended up sobbing harder, taking large stuttering breaths every second. She could barely see, the tears clouded her eyes and she felt oh-so weak.

It is hard to describe precisely the feeling of watching the streets you once travelled unravel and combust on a TV screen with every passing day. The country I had once felt no emotion towards is now a second home, and its problems are coming to light in a violent uproar. Shackled by a rigid police state, millions of protesters sacrifice their lives for a freedom they haven't felt in years, among them my own family members. Watching this, my chest billows with pride, and through all the coverage, the deaths, the tears, and the accomplishments, I learn the power of perseverance and courage in the most personal of ways.

run. She sprinted out of the house. Out of breath, she saw something behind her. It was a tall

I lean in closer to the screen as thousands of protestors line each side of the wall, screaming abuse at the soldiers that guard the border, whether they want war, or they want the Wall taken down. “It appears,” the reporter begins, obviously fearing being this close to the Wall. We’re only a few miles away from it. “That the New American Faction has planted protestors in the audience,” he sputters, the camera zooming into a young man who’s masked with a scarf detailed with red, white, and blue, holding a sign supporting the Faction. “It’s possible that they are trying to change the views of protestors to aid their cause. We’ve noticed increased agitation and more violence from

Finally, finally, the sirens stop. It’s so sudden, flooding the air with a moment of silence. My ears start to pick up the city noise again, faint and comforting in its normality. I hear footsteps behind my, and I turn to meet them. Two police officers are approaching me carefully, their guns drawn. What’s happening? Why do they look like they’re coming for me? I didn’t do anything. Questions flicker through my mind, none of them staying long enough for me to answer them.

Violence plagues humanity; a reoccurring rash prevalent throughout the world and its history. In the image I have selected, a man wearing militia armor and a ski mask is seen playing a brightly painted grand piano, whilst sedentary upon an ornate throne. Smoking a cigarette and focusing on his hand placement, the audience could say the man is aloof to his surroundings. In the background of the image, a tactical police line is seen in the midst of a debris filled street. Murky greyness and depressing color tone capture the atmosphere of fear. Fear further personified by other protesters standing near the masked artist. This is Kiev, the capital of Ukraine; a peaceful city turned violent by government distrust. The image

were walking out, there was an eerie silence among them. When they got supplies, they went

They raced down the streets taking any chance they could get to go thru a