The Royals - Original Writing

Abigail Jay stood in front of the school on the rain drenched steps, rocking on her heels. She was waiting for Jimmy, her uncle to close the shop for ten minutes to come and get. Most of the other students had already left from the campus once the last bell rang, they booked it. Abigail was use to waiting for Jimmy, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be late and if anything she’d be worried if he was on time. Abigail tangled with the pull strings of her hoodie, an excited smile on her face.

The excerpt above is part of Ronald Reagan's campaign speeches in California on March 31, 1976. Reagan's speech is reflective of the problems that forcing groups of individuals together forcibly and unnaturally. Professor Zoë Burkholder candidly highlights in the journal article "From Forced Tolerance to Forced Busing: Wartime Intercultural Education and the Rise of Black Educational Activism in Boston," that integrated busing was unsuccessful because both white and black students were still working to understand the tolerance of each other.

Jackson did not bother to put on his shoes which remained at the door, they were not at all out of his way. He pushed open the heavy metal door at the bottom of the stairwell and was briefly blinded by the light of the afternoon sun. Dragging the smoke back into his lungs, destroying himself from the inside Jackson sighed and turned back to face the building. He glanced at the sign of the tattoo parlor with which their apartment shared space with and wondered how their lights could be so bright to him at this time of day. At least their music was never as loud as other young people might like

Dawn’s early morning light crept over the city, the various shades of amber emanating from the horizon bringing life to the shapeless skyline. Outside Booker’s apartment, the resident sparrows began their morning song of joy, their cheerful chirrup filtering through the dark-haired officer’s dream, pulling him toward consciousness. Moments later, his alarm sounded, the annoying bee-dee-dee-deep, bee-dee-dee-deep shattering what remained of his slumber. With a sigh, he rolled over and hit the off button, returning peace to the cramped room, and stifling a yawn, he speculated about the upcoming day. He’d arranged to meet Tom at the abandoned warehouse before school so they could discuss strategies. But after the previous night’s events, he wasn’t sure where their friendship

“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring” (goodreads). She was a tragic heroine because she refused to let her childhood mold her. The tragic heroine downfall began when she started experiencing drugs. Becoming a drug user was the fatal mistake she made when everything in her world went upside down. She then became absolutely ridiculous, than absolutely boring, and this made her a tragic heroine.

Ian ran upstairs to take a five minute shower, and quickly dressed in a blue and black plaid shirt with some khaki shorts. He attempted to fix his hair, it was a little damp, but there wasn't time to properly dry it, so it was fine.

During his break Ray liked to go to the park across the street from the bank because it gave him quiet time to think. Around noon he walked across the street and into the grass. It was the perfect day to be outside.

He stomped his way out of the slushy snow as he headed home for the widow’s house. The temperature had dropped throughout the day, it was reported on the daily newspaper that the bad weather was only just the beginning of the winter yet-to-come. He had just came from school and was drained. He didn’t like being sivilized but, school had grown on him. He rubbed his hands together in an effort to keep warm as he walked the familiar street. When he spotted his gang leader, Tom with the others.

Paul slipped into a pair of soft gray sweats and headed for the door. As he cracked open the door, sunlight pierced his eyes. He began

"Get up honey, breakfast is ready." mom advises as she stands from my bed and smooths out her skirt, giveing me a thin smile as she slips out of my room. I rub my tired eyes, and sit up in my bed. A brown strand of hair falls in front of my eyes as I do so. Standing from my bed, I slide on my slippers and groggily walk to the bathroom. I grab my hair brush and pull my hair out of my face and into a loose ponytail.

As Bluzette walked out of the front door, the cold October wind hit her like a slap on the face. She checked her phone. It read 7:33. She was going to the small carnival across town. “Do you have your money Bluezette?” Her mom called. She really didn't mind if she was out late. She let her have that kind of freedom.

An unsettling evening wind started to blow its way through the Central Park. The sun began to set, sending a cascade of colors streaming through the evening sky. The day had started with the normal chaos that a normal Friday had encompassed. John was having difficulty finishing the last piece of business for that day, his mind kept day dreaming towards his lovely wife and wonderful children. As he set in his chair completely exhausted in his tattered office listening to the clock that was ticking in the background, and it approached the wishful hour of five o’clock.

We continued down the early morning streets of New York, the sun barely peeking over the towering concrete and stone giants surrounding us. Not many people were out at this time of day, and it felt as though there were even less with all the newsies absent from their usual corners. Albert had started to slow down as we got closer to the Lodging House. It was quiet, as if a strange spirit had taken over now that all the rambunctious and rowdy young boys were out causing trouble elsewhere. Even from farther away, you could still hear faint shouts in the distance rising up from the aforementioned ragamuffins. When one particularly loud uproar rose into the air, Albert yanked me up the stairs, my

Through the glass door, Samuel’s parents were preparing for the annual speech presented by the government. They appeared to be in deep conversation, voices low and serious. The flawless white hair he owned was swept to the side by the strong breeze that often came around during that time of night. It was effortless

Females more than males embrace organizational effectiveness leadership styles. This is evident by the styles in motivation, expectation layout, rewards programs, and leadership enthusiasms (Zheng, 2015). Moreover, the female gender is better at acquiring social interaction talents over their male counterparts. Conversely, men are better suited for formal and informal designed measurements. These may include connecting with networks that promote from semi-formal but unwritten connections. In opposition of the genders, females appear to establish higher standards in performance for themselves and the workforce that equate to greater organizational effectiveness (Zheng, 2015). Unfortunately, statistics exposes male leaders have a tendency to engage in organizational revenge as well at interpersonal violence more so than women (Chavan, 2015). Even though the leadership approaches of males and females are greatly contrasting, both may by capable of becoming transformational or transactional leaders.