I was three years old before I said my first word. I had an IEP throughout preschool. I made one best friend in kindergarten. I was afraid of the world and the people that occupied it.
To say that this was just a phase was an understatement. Most little kids go through the phase of being terrified of strangers, but not all are paralyzed by it for several years.
I was standing there digesting the events around me in the grocery store. People were talking, seemingly shouting, scuffling around the room, and cackling at the world around them. Some looked at me and pointed, smiled, talked, and waved. A ginormous woman came up to me, bent forward, grabbed my bubbly cheeks and said “LOOK AT YOU! Aren’t you just the cutest little toddler running about the
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That’s the easiest part, but immediately afterwards I know I have to be quick on my feet and think of something interesting to say. I feel myself shrinking and can feel the thoughts flying around my head. I slowly get more and more nervous, afraid to mess up. But then I think of something; a comment about the person that is introducing us. Simple enough. But for me it continues to be a battle over word choice. I continue to fear that I will say the wrong thing and come off rude, but I am truly just trying to fit in. The conversation eventually dies out and I can relax. As I have gotten older and continue to get older, I start to care less about how others view me and accept that this an important characteristic that defines who I am. Talking to new people is a challenge, but one that I welcome. Self improvement is a terrifying thing to think about because of the difficulties it presents, but the end result is always satisfactory. My physical response to hard situations may not change, but my mental response can. My heart races, palms get sweaty, legs get shaky, and voice gets froggy. Afraid, but accepting and learning from each terrifying
Short Story Assignment It was a good place, twelve year old Caitlin Mathis thought to herself. She'd declined coming there in 2011 when it opened. She wanted to go when she was ready and she wanted to go alone. She was in lower Manhattan, at the World Trade Center Memorial. A couple years ago she'd refused to accompany her teary-eyed mother there for the ten year memorial. She'd refused to stand in the crowd and listen for her father's name. She'd refused to bring a flower. Her mother understood. Or perhaps not, maybe her mother didn't understand; maybe her mother just tolerated her decision and didn't feel like fighting.
Brett was riding the crest of his orgasm, every pump of his cock inside Elena's tight pussy elicitng a louder groan and moan of pleasure, attempting to hold off as long as he could. His cock swelling inside her, and balls aching as he slammed into her time and time again, the need was almost painful, and normally he'd just allow himself to release, but then normally he'd have already ensured the women he was with had already orasmed at least once and hopefully more times before he'd even fucked her. It was a matter of ego, and there was an eroticism about looking into a woman's eyes as she writhed and screamed and came for him that the man could never get enough of. Watching a woman orgasm was fucking hot.
Smile. As we discussed in a previous section introductions will get you far, but even better is if you can add a smile. A smile is universal and will ease some tension and apprehension as well.
Maria and her parents were sitting in their dining room eating breakfast. Papa was reading the newspaper and Mama was pouring coffee. When suddenly there were loud cries coming from the far end of the ghetto where they lived. “Ghettos are small segregated areas of the city where most Jews lived” (Anderson). Followed by screams and shouts in a language that Maria was unfamiliar with. Then, a loud, hard knock came from the door. Papa jumped out of his chair and hurried to it. Maria went to stand with him, but Mama pulled her into the kitchen. Maria peered around the corner watching as her father opened the door. Just as fast as the Sunday morning light peeked through the tiny crack between the door and the frame, it was blocked. Maria watched in horror as men in worn, dark uniforms came bursting into her house knocking Papa onto the floor.
Dahlia’s staggering around like a drunk person. She hugs a tree for support. When I ask
Arken chuckled softly as he ghosted his fingertips across her trembling forearms. “My gods, you’re so strong ...” he purred, and the huskiness in his voice almost made her gag.
answered the phone with the same uninterested drone, himself a day laborer. He stuffed his cigar in his mouth to free his hand and showed three fingers. His hand signal started a chain of activity on the benches with each man sliding down to fill the vacant seats. He wrote the address on a worksheet and gave it to the three next in line. He returned behind his newspaper as they walked out the door. Billowing cigar smoke rising above the desk was a sign of him.
A wave of fury heats my chest, melting the icy fingers. However, I can't determine who I'm more enraged with, him or me.
Maggie was out of town for the next two weeks at a law enforcement conference across the country.
Sick fate, twisted punishment for something they must have done in order to wind up somewhere so terrible as this cement prison. Humans were cruel… Poking and prodding at open wounds and making new ones were old existed. It felt like years in this personal hell. Most of the time the young creature stayed tucked in the very corner as far as he could get from the outside for it was the inside for them. Fear dripped from his body in waves nearly as thick as syrup. He was scared and he had every right to be. Watching them murder so many… The images have haunted him since the night it had happened. Blood… Gunshots… Thoughts eased into his mind like a bad dream, making everything a dark place he couldn’t hide from. Mother… Father… People
Another pocket full of change added to the jar after a day of work. Every penny, nickel, dime, and quarter has made into that jar for years. First he wanted a gun, for the annual hunting trip with his brother. Then he wanted a fancy saw to build some bookshelves. So Jim dropped the coins in the jar, and once it was full he counted, and recounted before rolling the change and making a trip to the bank. But now that he had his gun and his saw, Jim had his eyes set on a bigger toy.
One by one they stopped their singing to cry and embrace one another; they never finished the hymn.
Sandrin breathed in deeply and then got on to her hands and knees. She crawled, determined to be in the loop this time around. Sandrin would not allow Tora to keep anything from her this time.
I sat there waiting for Stradlater to come out of the bathroom for like two hours, but he never came. Finally, after like a total of three hours, he came out.
Sky said, “ NO, why would you think that i just wanted to tell you because i want to be your friend and honestly i still want to fit in with you guys !”