Why Who Won 't The Big Man Go Away? Why?

After eating me and my cousins were playing hide-and-seek. We had played three rounds and then took a break.After we played again. My cousin was it,she started counting,we went to go hide on the other side of the house.She took so long we went to go see what she was doing.

It was a seemingly ordinary California night—warm and peaceful— as I turned a corner and walked down a street of makeshift tents, the only place hundreds of men, women, and children could call their homes. The smell of alcohol and trash was overpowering. Used needles and garbage were everywhere. People picked through the trash searching for anything that could keep them alive. The street was eerily quiet as everyone kept to themselves. These people were suffering, and I could not bear to watch any longer.

Surprised by the loudness, her mom flinched, almost dropping the pan along with its content. Swiftly scooping the egg to a blue porcelain plate, she called out.

Milky watery eyes glared at me with a sorrow I could not forget. The sparks of hope faded from his orbs as I past his shivering small figure. My heart ached at the sight of the twist and turns of the dark alleyways he called home. Although years have passed since then, I can still recall my first glimpse of homelessness.

They arrived from Hong Kong with nothing but debt. That debt was to no one else other than her aunt Paula. There was a saying: “Blood is thicker than water”, but unfortunately, this saying was not true in Kimberly’s case. Her aunt thought that Kimberly and her mother owned her a life debt that could never been repaid, because she had brought them to America (256). She gave them an illegal place to live. The author described the way they lived so vividly that filled the readers with emotion. Their apartment was in a terrible state. It lacked heat and real furniture. The wind can blow through the windows where “the windowpanes were missing or cracked” in the middle of New York City winter. They had to live under the same roof with roaches and mice running around. They had to keep the oven on during the winter days as it was their only source of heat. They had to cover their body with layer and layer of clothes but still, that was not warm enough. What really helped her family survive that winter was the cloth used to make stuffed animal in the toy factory trash. They wanted to take the warm material home right away but they were afraid of being late for work. It is very emotional when they kept worrying that other people might take it, that it might not be there when they finished their job. The material, which only was trash to other people, was really a treasure to them, made

The third night in the San Francisco Bay area, he found a short-term flop house for three dollars a night. He then found a part-time job, setting pins at a bowling alley at night. The first day at that place, I decided to go look around, having nothing else to do. I walked down the dark hall lit by one bulb and a small window at one end, the building smelled of decay, I could not describe. Doors lined the hall on both sides. A door opened beside me, I curiously looked inside, it was filthy, trash cluttered the worn out carpet. A musty order protruded from the room. Suddenly! I felt myself be pulled into the room by a man, he picked me up off my feet. I swung my elbows side to side and kicked my feet rapidly. Desperately trying to get free

We had lost our sense of generosity and we were filled with bitterness and anger. But there was still a job that needed to be done so we couldn’t let our emotions get the best of us. Our next and final home was on Holton Street. As the minutes passed on our way to the next home I hoped that this experience would be different. As we neared our destinations the quality of the homes was deteriorating. Shoes hanging on power lines (usually a sign pf gang presence or drug trading), trash all over the sidewalks, and sadly seeing a family of 3 in nothing but T-Shirt and shorts sitting outside on a bench in below freezing temperature. Seeing all these I had a feeling that the area we were entering wasn’t only poor, but unsafe. We arrived to the home and knocked on the door. A boy no older than 14 answered the door and an enormous grin appeared on his face. Boom. This is exactly the type of reaction we loved. This home was in abysmal condition. There were holes in the wall. floorboards were creaking at every step, and there were cobwebs seemingly in every corner of the kitchen. As we placed the food on the counter we noticed that the mother was watching us from the living room. She came out to meet us and to our shock, she was in a wheelchair. “My God mam, are you okay? How did this happen?” said amo. In a very heavy English accent she replied, “Car accident.” In the corner of my eye I also spotted two toddlers sitting in a crib. How is this woman

Anna Beth Stevens grew up in the south. She was brewed with tradition in the wind and potatoes on the table. She always dreamt of breaking free of her snow globe town. She witnessed a sitcom once based in Beverly Hills. It left her yearning to know what lay in store on a separate coast. However, lighting bug jars and knee scrapes filed her summer. The tormenting of the neighbor boys would not do itself. Anna Beth was fearless and smart. When she was 9, she filled coffee filters with flower and cayenne pepper. She wet the bottom of them just enough to break when hitting the faces of the boys that lived behind her grandmother’s. They had no idea what had just landed in their eyes causing them to cry an uncontrollable cry, but they knew from that

About thirty miles off the highway and down a dirt road, you'll see the silhouette of a woman inside her house. She is exhausted, staring as the dust from the dirt floor mixes with the sunlight flowing through the holes the walls. She looks around and knows her life is in shambles. Her house is nothing more than rotting boards and rusted metal roofing. She has no electricity or indoor plumbing. Her only furniture is a moth-eaten couch and two old mattresses sprawled across the floor. Every day she must go to the river four miles from her house. Here she gets her drinking water and does the laundry. The neighbor children will follow her and play games. They are wearing

“Please, can we just stop to eat? We haven’t eaten all day, we can’t take this anymore. Please, just something cheap, we left to go live down here with aunt, and gave up everything, can you just do something for us?” I begged. My mother simply stared at me, but not angrily as I expected. She looked sorry, as if she knew our pain all along and just couldn’t help us. Without saying a word, she made a U turn, and headed back into the center of town. We rolled down main street slowly, scanning the area for some sort of diner, where we could get our breakfast that we never had this morning. My younger sister spotted the place. It was so small, it looked as though it couldn’t have fit more than three tables. The red worn down paint matched the rundown feeling of the whole town. There is a very high population here, but I can’t tell why. It is so small, and so crummy. Anyway, my mother parked the car on the side of the carless road surrounded by the peopleless sidewalks. We walked in through the door

Oh my- “ I croaked out “What?” “Do you see...the man walking..towards us?” I gulped “No where- OH MY GOODNESS...RUN! She yelled.

“Go get a spoon and I’ll get you some.” My mom told her, and I tagged along too.

I ran to her side and took in the devastation that was left behind. The patio doors were smashed; the glass spread throughout the kitchen. I squeezed Mommy’s leg a little tighter as we stepped over the shards. The kitchen tabletop was on the floor, its amputated legs spread throughout the kitchen. Touring farther, Mommy inhaled when she saw the framed photos that were once proudly displayed on the walls, now lay in the shattered mess of wood, plastic, and glass. Figurines and keepsakes were obliterated and broken into pieces.

The door slammed on my way out of the old apartment building. No, I didn’t slam the door; it was a windy morning in the city of Chicago. As I was walking outside, I whispered to myself “This is it.” The wind was pushing against me, almost causing me to tumble over. Along with the wind, the smell of rain filled my nostrils and my clothing started to soak from just a five-yard walk from the apartment building to my dad’s truck. As soon as I got inside my dad’s truck, I was shivering from the ice-cold rain and piercing wind that was outside and I loudly sighed with relief. The slam of the door may seem like a negative thing, but it was actually the beginning of a better life for me. It was the sound of me breaking free from an affectionless prison

I walk into the kitchen and see my mom she was making some delicious food, I lean my hand in to grab a piece of the chuck of meat (whaaap) my mom slaps my hand and