Westover Woods: A Short Story

This morning I was walking through the woods. The leaves and trees brushing up against my long brown hair. The morning breeze blowing through my long luscious hair. There is a dark path ahead so I walk through it. It has beautiful scenery and so many gorgeous animals

It was my sophomore year in high school, I left my house just like every other Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to ride my bike to school. I had rode and still ride a Nishiki Pinnacle that my dad had received as a gift from my mom, yet he was too busy with working to have any leisure time to ride that bike; my mom maintained it regardless so when my brother needed a bike for college he took the beach cruiser that I had used the year before and I inherited the Pinnacle. When I left these rides were usually pretty quiet, with the occasional other bicyclist, runner, or landscaper. The wildlife of the river path that I followed is teeming with life; various lizards, prairie dogs, mourning doves, sometimes the illusive coyote. The path is shrouded

Nick had little clue as to how the other driver had fared. Looking up the 30 or so feet to the road carved through through the mountainous terrain, Nick couldn't make out anything except the cliff face due to the angle he was at, and he didn't see any other smoking cars besides his, so the driver must still be in the road; he may have already gone for help and Nick would be beset upon by a rescue crew and be in a hospital with Matt, sipping hot coco and turning the whole occurrence into a joke before the day ended.

Far along down the creek there was me and my two friends. Their names are Gage and Tyler. We were just a couple of sophomores wandering around aimlessly on the very familiar, local road that was by the name of Bundschu until we came across some woods that we were

Buck was now one with the wild. His reminiscence of John Thornton rushed through his mind when he fixed his gaze upon the brilliance of the Yeehats’ crackling fire. The thirst for vengeance bubbled in the pits of his stomach when he grimaced at the natives through the trees. He had very few sentiments left for John Thornton, but the fire always managed to flood his thoughts with the remembrance of John’s affectionate visage.

At only four years old, I was exploring the dense woods of the Washington island in which I grew up on. I was with my older sister and cousin when we found ourselves trekking through a yellow-jacket hive. We raced back home, covered in bees from head to toe, screaming painful

Don’t feel bad for Japes as he rocks in his chair watching the cardinals and the squirrels’ race around the towering pine trees across from his front porch. It has been a few years since he retired and although he is not naive he still shakes his head when reflecting on the vicious nature of the greed shown by those in the world outside of the hotel. Of course the nature of a hotel culture is in itself one of safety and comfort. Servers are a breed all their own with skills in many disciplines all of which are aimed at bringing a smile and sense of belonging to everyone not just a select few. It is an extremely challenging skill and an equally satisfying career. Servers do not receive the recognition that many other disciplines get, but when

I stepped on the trail, it was very peaceful. Just the woods, my friends and me. My friends and I biked up the rest trail. All I could hear were the birds chirping and the annoying squeaky bike sound. We got to the top after about 15 minutes; there were two log benches. We decided to sit down and take in the elegant view.

Logan looked through the peep hole of his door and saw a big, hulking man standing there. He could tell by the man’s stature that he was a bear, but what the hell did he want this early in the morning? Suddenly the man’s phone went off. Logan watched as he took his phone out of his pocket, looked at it a moment, and then silenced it. That was odd.

I remember a panicked bark, very sharp, almost squeal like. Suddenly, I heard more barks coming from the front office of the local animal rescue where I volunteer. I was in the kitten room cleaning and became concerned because the barks were becoming more frantic. It sounded like the poor dog was hurt. Placing the last of the litter in the bin, I wiped my hands on a towel and walked over to the main office to see what the commotion is all about. What I did not expect to see through the window into the lobby was a small, fluff ball of a puppy, running around in circles while it owner and receptionist was trying to catch her. I tried my best to open the door and slide in as quietly as possible, thinking that I could help chase down the puppy, by surprising it. I wasn’t

This quote concentrates on the acceptance of others and what we could possibly accomplish with this newfound understanding. The refusal of assistance and aid of others solely because we are different is inherently setting ourselves up for failure. Not only must we help one another but band together when injustice is prevailing. Prejudice may not be targeted towards us as individuals but injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere. At White Oaks, we are all of a singular comradeship and must work together in order to achieve a common goal: to thrive not only as learners, but flourish as people. Additionally, Eugene Debs is attempting to convey that trivial things, namely geographic borders and bodies of water, shouldn’t divide us a people. There

My sister and I decide one day that it was a good idea to bike from our house, to my grandmother’s house, where my mother and grandmother were. We descend down into the basement and activate the hero scene. We mount our bikes and ride through the American flag hanging like a large banner in our basement as a form of good luck. We go up the steep slope from the basement up through the driveway. We prepare for our 3 mile voyage and go through winding roads. The landscape of our region featured tree farms comprised of mostly eucalyptus trees, miles long vineyards on varying hills expanding into the horizon, and the frequent parked tractor where an old couple would be caring for their land. In order to get to the village my grandmother’s house was in, we needed to cross through a road that went down the middle of these vineyards. There are several

They heard the wolves catch their scent. The breath of the hungry wolves filled the night as they creeped over the tree that covered the frightened men. “BANG!” coming from the distance an unknown gunshot scared the wolves off, giving a glimmer of hope for the trapped men. Hearing that the forest had settled the men decided that the coast was clear.

From the ancient ceremonies of China to the Hundred Acre Woods, tigers have had iconic roles in cultures around the world. They symbolize strength, energy, and wealth, and to be associated with one – whether through birth signs or personality traits – is a great honor. Their time on Earth, however, may one day come to an end, and they will be reduced to legends and storybook characters unless we do something to help them.

A Critical Analysis of Death in the Woods ?Death in the Woods? is a story about a woman that lives a hard life. When she was a girl she worked for a German farmer and his wife. When she was a little older she married a man named Jake Grimes thinking she would get away from the crude work of the farmer. She soon finds out that life doesn?t get any better for her than it already was.