Just then, a shrill wind blew past us, raising the hairs on my arms. I tightened my grip on the flashlight. My heart began to hammer in my chest. Something felt different now. We were walking out further than last time. The flames should’ve come by now. I was starting to feel the familiar sinking feeling. What if we were walking into a trap? And it was my fault having forced Gemma. In the distance, I suddenly caught a glimpse of a faint blue light.
“There, do you see that?” I said, pointing. “See what?” Gemma said, getting a good look over my shoulder.
“The blue light, that’s a good sign, right?”
“I suppose,” she said timidly.
We moved faster. I just hoped whatever we were speeding towards would not come as an unpleasant surprise. I kept my
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The water was cold when I dipped in two fingers, I swirled them around and took in a sharp whiff. “It seems normal enough,” I shrugged, though I questioned the faultiness of my assessment.
“Jared, over here, look,” Gemma called. Standing up, I and moved toward the location of Gemma’s voice. She was on the other side of the boulder. When I found her, she stood pointing to a black wooden fisherman’s boat. Beside it lay a single oar.
“Look it even has a sign.” she said, softly.
Reaching down I read.
“Ubi mortui vivunt”
“It must be Latin or something,” I said, turning the sign over in my hands. “Maybe it’s saying we should get on,” I said dubiously.
“Out into the water?” Gemma’s eyes went wide.
“Well, yeah, I mean it’s got and oar and everything.”
“But what if it sinks?”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” and I pushed the boat out into the lake. I held the end of the boat with one hand. “It looks like it's floating fine, and seems pretty solid,” I said, experimenting as I pressed a hand inside, pushing down with my weight. “It's not sinking.”
Gemma peered out into the glittering, sapphire water.
“But we don’t know what’s out there,” she whispered.
“What do you think is the worst that can happen?” I asked,
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Its crystal clarity was no longer apparent as its once shallowness had become a plunging depth, a darkish blue in color, almost black. I studied our distance away from the bank. We were a little ways farther than I expected. We were moving fast.
The ride was surprisingly smooth, pleasant, though the atmosphere was becoming increasingly dark. I looked up at the ceiling and saw giant, treacherous-looking stalactites hanging overhead. It resembled a chandelier of spear heads ready to savagely drop at a moment’s notice. My eyes flickered down at Gemma, who seemed completely unbothered by this. Instead, she sat neatly, gazing at the walls of the cave with an appearance of quiet intrigue.
The boat sped up, and swiftly it drifted toward a dark, narrow tunnel. A nervous twitch ran through my body. I felt more comfortable being out in the wide open expanse, but in the tunnel, I couldn't anticipate what would lie ahead. I gripped the flashlight and shined it out in front of us as we immersed in the darkness. My breathing turned heavy. It was just as dark as the tunnel we had come through, only now I felt more vulnerable, having no control over the water’s current.
“Jared, do you hear that?” Gemma said, her face indistinguishable in the blackness.
“Hear what?” I Jared, looking around.
“That noise,” she
1. “Again Cole knew he was lying. He had slept poorly because he had considered making a canoe instead of a totem. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the hatchet and began striking the centre of the log. Again and Again he hooked, until a deep groove circled the log.
The sweat in my head starts to run down to the corner of my eye and I immediately start thinking of a single thing, the ice cold Frio River, I suggested to my friend that we should start heading towards it so we did. By submerging in the water, my nervous system instantly reacted to the temperature but soon after, relief. At the bottom of the river floor I feel the rocks smoothed out by the water along with the algae and every so often some young fish that thrive there. Along the end of the “section” of the river there’s a little wall where water falls down from to another section, while sitting there I can feel the strong pressure of the water hitting against my chest, consequently, I reach a point of relaxation incomparable to all
The diffused light became a blinding glare as Toni swam back to the surface of reality. Her head felt as if it were being pounded with a sledgehammer. There was a thick silence around her, broken only by a steady beeping sound in the background. She vaguely felt numerous tubes and needles poking into her body.
pents about her ankles. She walked out. The water was chill, but she talked on. The water was deep, but she lifted her white body and reached out with a long, sweeping stroke. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace.
The first thing I ever felt was intense wind and somehow I knew that when I opened my eyes alI I would see is blue. Light pale grey blue. Blue so light that the horizon can’t tell where the grey water ends and the sky begins. Blue that promises rain and storms and chaos. I was sitting on something. Something with scales and muscles pumping, up and down, up and down and I could only grin because I knew. When I finally opened my eyes and looked at the dragon on whose back I sat, all I could feel was peace. Peace in the air with the slate skies. The dragon pushed harder, flapping it’s wings faster. Up up up up. I thought the farther up we went, the less air there would be, but no. There was more. I felt it in my blood. It flowed in constant wind, sending us through the layers and layers of atmosphere.
On September 1, 2012, I walked into my fifth grade teacher’s classroom for the first time in my life. Mrs.Cullen was standing in the front of the door with open arms ready to welcome her new fifth grade students. As I made my way to my desk and sat down next to Charlie Schutt and Quin Timmerman, I got the feeling that middle school would be a time of talking to some of my best friends and cruising through classes. As the school year progressed, and classroom seats changed, my thought of how Middle school would be changed as well. On the first day Mrs.Cullen explained our schedule, Homework detentions, and demerits. After about fifty questions, she sent us off to our first class, and the first step of our Middle School journey. The fifth grade
When I got back, my tub water was almost all over the place. I turn my water off and took off all my school clothes and put them on the counter. Then I put my phone right next to my bath even though it might not be smart. I put my bath salts in the water, then I grab the bath bomb and put my foot in there to check the temperature. Its a tad bit too hot. Both of my feet went in the water and eventually my whole body did. I drop my bath bomb and watch it dissolve which made my bath water turn to a pale pink color. As soon as I lean back, my phone rings. It's my Aunt Jane.
It was a cold foggy Friday night in Summit's Peak. Lauren was walking her six blocks home from her friend Mandy’s house. The streets were deserted, not a sole in sight. Lauren was thinking about her birthday, which was the following day. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t hear the clinking of boots following her only forty yards back. Pulled out of her train of thought when she heard someone cough behind her, Lauren jumped. Realizing she was not alone she whipped her head around to see who coughed, but there was nothing there. “Hello?” Lauren questioned her voice wavering. There was no reply “Maybe I’m just imaging things,” mumbled Lauren.
Maria woke up and thought to herself, I need a change. Something adventurous. Maybe I’ll go to that strange lake I saw. It sure is hot today. And I think I deserve the rest since papa made me work so hard yesterday. With that in mind, she slipped on the worn ruffle dress her sister had passed on to her three years ago. Maria missed her sister, Margarita. Margarita had died many many years ago, at the young age of nine. Seeing that Maria possessed a petite figure, and that Margarita was abnormally tall, Margarita gave the young Maria the dress as a birthday gift. The story goes, Margarita and three toddlers named Juan, José, and Alejandro were playing in the dirt when their mother came up to them and yanked them as hard as she could. You see, her husband had been gone for longer and longer trips out west at a time, and only came back
Darkness dissolved the light behind her, the last of it casting a moteless edge through the air. As she rounded the path, even this vanished; its only evidence a lingering glow that crept around the curve behind her. After some distance Alexa could no longer see her feet where they landed. At night the presence of the sky in its varying moods had illuminated the world, and so she had felt her place in it. But this black did not give away its shape, size, or direction. The only anchor she had to the physical was the wall at her side. She dared not remove her hand from it, that she might not find it again.
My head slowly angled down at the murky brown water reflecting the bright sun as It flowed downstream. “Come on you pussy”, I heard from below. From then on, and for these three words, my fate would be decided, On that day about four years ago, i would know what fear feels like, and how confidence can change your life.
The moment it dinged, she collected both of the pieces and shoved them into her mouth as fast as she could possibly manage. She snatched her bag and ran out of the house, yelling a goodbye to her parents. She sprinted as far as her legs could carry her until finally, she slowed down to rest. Breathing heavily, she was reminded of when she’d woke that morning. That dream… That boy… I’ve never seen him before. Or that place, even. She was pondering the matter when suddenly, she was seized from behind. Yelping with surprised she turned her head to look at her attacker. Familiar blue eyes met hers and she immediately
"Well, now that that's taken care of, what's your name?" He said, setting a small, flat thing in front of me. He pressed a button, and a bunch of letters appeared. I sort of knew how to read, so I pressed the letters that were my best guess at how my name was spelled.
What exactly is a self-narrative or in other words an identity? Could it be described as someone’s life story and their individual uniqueness? A self-narrative is a broad topic that has more meaning just one. In order to get a wide range of knowledge about a self-narrative one has to understand the different self-making narratives. In the stories Memory of Water by Emmi Itaranta, Being Prey by Val Plumwood, Nightmare by Malcolm X, express self-making narratives by stating how their experiences have transformed their self-identities originally. This occurs when External and internal beliefs are altered, turning points in our lives occur, creating a self-narrative full of distinctiveness. All of these stories stated above all show
Most likely my obsession with oceans was born in the sensory playground of my mother’s womb. The yearning to float weightlessly on warm, soothing waves is one of my earliest emotional connections. This attraction for water has been the basis for the majority of my life choices. Where I choose to live, work, play and travel are predicated on being on, in or near an ocean or a beach. Nevertheless a lake, river, pool or even a Jacuzzi will suffice as alternatives.