The Lost And Found

Vehemently, I threw my myself on the bed, covered my head with pillows and screamed in pain and agony.Like a pack of wild, hungry ferocious wolves, the thoughts began to commence and every second they got louder. Like paws,every sentence clawed at my brain,every thought pierced my mind in agony,and my body began to shake. The shivers started from the tip of my fingers and cascaded straight down my gut, my body shook, and I screamed

New York City is one of those places that changes in a blink of an eye. In Lost and Found, by Colson Whitehead, Whitehead observes the changes in atmosphere that he often sees in the city and connects it to the fall of the twin towers that happened just months before publication.

“One day I was able to get up, after gathering all my strength. I wanted to see myself in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. I had not seen myself since the ghetto.

A Child Called "it" In his two novels A Child Called "it", and The Lost Boy, the author, Dave Pelzer explains about his childhood. During that time, author was a young boy from an age 3 to an age 9. David's mother has started to call him " The Boy" and "it." The author mainly covers the relationship between his family. His main focus point is the bond between his mother and him. He describes his mother as a beautiful woman, who loves and cherished her kids , who changed from this " The Mother," who abused him because she was alcoholic and was sick. The Mother used David to take her anger out. An abusive mother who systematically closed down any escape he may have from her clutches. Shuts out any source for food for the poor starving child.

Reading has became one of my favorite ways to pass time. It allows for you to see others perspective on things or take you to an entirely new place altogether. When I was younger I hated reading until one of my friends suggested I read the uglies series. Which sparked my interest in reading. One of my all time favorite books I have read is Castaway Kid by R.B. Mitchell. This book continues

One of my all time passions is reading. I credit my love of reading to my dad, who has spent a great portion of his life reading as well. Some of my earliest memories are of my dad reading Harry Potter to me and my siblings, though I was the only child listening. My love of reading has only grown since then. Through reading I have learned about countless worlds and thousands of stories. I have discovered myself in between the pages of many different books, and I have learned more about people and the world arund me. Of all the ways to spend time, reading may be my absolute

I turn around to face the mirror. I see Harmony in the reflection of myself.

more clear then ever, the fire is lit. I must finish the journey that God has place me on. I must endure to

As a young child in the years of first to second grade I quickly developed my love for reading. I was never a big fan of the outside world. I thought the world around me was boring and tearing everything/one apart, and thought the adventure inside a book was much more exciting. In my childhood home there was a large bookshelf full of different stories. Most days when getting home I would sit by the shelves in my small pink bean bag chair with numerous children books scattered around me. By endlessly trying and sometimes failing to read my children books such as, the infinite number of Dr. Seuss rhyming stories and Winnie-the-Pooh books I felt comforted by the happy feeling the characters within the stories gave me. The pictures within

I had a very fortuitous encounter. One day I was at the bookstore in the young adult section and a cover picture of a girl in a black dress crying caught my eye. The book was called Fallen by Lauren Kate, a romantic gothic themed story about fallen angels. It was the first novel I was not forced to read that I liked and finished. Ever since then I have been a zealous book reader and collector. I used to read about 100 pages an hour and about 3 or 5 books a week, give or take. On those days, I seldom came out of my room because I was so wrapped up in what I was reading. Books became a way for to connect to the outside world, especially because I was an isolated person, and to explore other places and worlds I'd never been to. It was a truly an amazing moment in my life. Eventually, I began to write stories of my

It was dark and alone and I felt the need to cry. One by one everyone I have ever loved showed up. My mom, my sister, my late girlfriend, my grandma… I could go on. Their eyes were on me and only me. I was the only stimulus in the room. The yelled at me. I was irrational . I had put them in a situation where they didn’t even know me anymore. I was the monster under the bed and I was the reason why people were scared. They yelled so loud to the point where I didn’t even know if they were screams anymore.

My destination was an acreage of unfamiliar girls, all reuniting with their closest friends after a never-ending school year. I roamed the camp alone, hopeful that another lone girl would approach me and we’d become the best of friends. But

Dim flares of consciousness surround me. But only one thought resounds in my mind. I am her. She is me. Now we are

It is nice to take a seat, relax, and break open a book of yours to read. With nothing else in mind, you embark on an adventure as the words guide you through your journey. This is the idea a reader normally accompany the feeling of reading a book. For many other people, like me before, they find it dreadfully painful as for each page turned is like trying to get closer to escape from captivity. I am unsure when my hatred associated with literature started, maybe caused by the hauntingly boring books I was forced to read by my former teachers. However, as time goes by, my attitude towards books gradually lifted when I was unchained from my shackles and allowed the freedom to choose my books. It wasn't that the books were bad, well, maybe, but

Although reading literature when being forced and for educational purposes has withered my once love of reading, I can still vividly remember where my love of reading began. My comfy living room couch holds my