The World Of Adventure And Survival

state of hysteria, but for a brief moment she was a step closer to her hope.

The sun was glistening through the tall, swaying pines. To the right of the trail, a gentle river flowed softly down towards the mouth of the lake. Walking across the rickety wooden bridge, I inhaled a deep breath of refreshingly crisp mountain air. The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the bridge and back onto the well-used hiking trail. The ambient sounds of chirping birds, babbling water, and the croaks of several frogs filled my ears as I made my way around the bend. As I entered the mouth of the forest, I could see my father standing in the middle of the path, glancing upwards, taking in the beauty that had began to engulf us. “We better get going.” he said, looking back at me. “There’s still many miles to go.” I smiled and turned, taking in one last view of the beautiful creekside. Then, with determination, we set out to finish the challenging trek we had started.

It took us a long time to recover from this harsh awakening. But she nevertheless continued to scream:

Her eyes widened. She was giving me her classic “angry-shocked mom face”. It was full of disbelief and disappointment. I couldn’t bear to look her in the

Sitting in a hospital waiting room, alone, afraid; and waiting for the news; would she be ok? Would she even survive? My nerves were out of control; my heart was beating through my chest, you could literally see it thumping through my top. The beads of sweat racing down my forehead, as if I was in the middle of the Safari dessert. I have been an athlete my entire life, yet I have never felt so physically drained. I look around, my eyes opening, then closing; as if I am coming in and out of consciousness, then suddenly echoed words begin to ring around my ear drums….” Sir…...sir, can you hear me? Sir please, we need to know what happened. We need to know what happened to her. Maybe my motionless state showed my

She was smiling her mournful smile as she slipped me a crust of bread. She looked straight into my eyes. I knew she wanted to talk to me but she was paralyzed with fear. She remained

Even I found it almost impossible to let her say what had happened to her as she perceived

Stephanie Meyer’s novel “The Host” is a striking composition that questions what it really means to be human. It journeys through ideals like identity, morality, acceptance, and love (not any of the blood sucking kind I promise). There are many reasons why I’ve become so fond of this novel. It’s not just because of the plot or the intriguing love triangles, but I’ve become absolutely mesmerized by the movement of the story. Each conflict, each resolution, each introduction to new characters and settings had such a steady and seamless flow, somewhat like water. This type of construction made it all the more thrilling when exploring through Stephanie Meyer’s take on the heart of humanity.

Yet now she lay awake in a decent amount of discomfort. Her ribs ached, not as bad a yesterday, and

Not only was I more comfortable, I felt like I had to because I was giving her a hard time.

She was squirming around as her eyes slowly opened. A smile marked her face. “Hey…” she said, giving me a sleepy grin. She looked fragile, like a glass vase, when she woke up.

There was an eerie silence for a minute or so. I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I couldn’t process what was happening. I just stared at her. A faint white blur in the distance growing smaller. I wanted to go to her. To protect her like I promised I would do, but I could only float away. I couldn’t bring myself to look back at her so instead I turned to look at the fading wreck that had once been our ship.

Skiing is the action of travelling over snow on skis, especially as a sport or recreation. Competitive skiing falls into two categories: Nordic which is cross-country racing and jumping, and Alpine which is downhill or straight racing, and slalom racing round a series of markers. The organisation for skiing is British Ski and Snowboard (BSS). It is the National Governing Body for Snowboarding and Skiing in the United Kingdom. The provision for skiing locally is Bowles in Eridge. The national place to go skiing is

I thought some piece of me would instinctively realize when she passed, especially since I knew the moment was imminent. But I did not. The nurse had to tell me. And just like that, the cautious optimism I had begun to let myself feel for the past ten days while they tried to give her just a few more weeks, burst.

I could feel the blood pounding in my chest. Blackness crept into the fringes of my vision. My voice was hoarse from screaming; I didn’t remember screaming though.