Dozen

I'm standing on the lawn of this tacky cottage at Wasagaming, watering the grass for Valdeen, Dad's latest girlfriend, when who should walk up the driveway all red and perspiring with a backpack sliding off his shoulder but Martin Faykes. "Hi Elizabeth," he says, just like he's walked over from a couple of blocks away to see me. He then falls into the chartreuse lawn cart and gasps, "Get me a drink." "My gawd," says Valdeen when I go into the kitchen, "what a surprise. Why didn't you tell me you'd

“Coffee?" I ask going into the kitchen. "Yes please." Qiana, my roommate, replies. I get the coffee brewing and head back into the living room. I see Qiana at the sofa with her laptop open trying to study. Her hair is in a bun with messy brown strands shoot out from every angle. Her eyes give a gray blue feel, the color of her worn out Disney world sweater. I was about to sit next to her when the brewer beeped. It was alarming, telling me to hurry. Our coffee brewer has two slots which makes it faster

Lady Audra, age seventeen, raised her fists and braced her feet in the soil. “Step forward, you little shit,” she growled. “You can hit harder than that.” This was their typical routine, Audra and the teenage stable boy. In front of the horse paddock on Audra’s parents’ estate, she and the young man often engaged in sword training and battle axe exercises, but today, they used fists. Audra loved combat training. She stutter-stepped forward, her long red hair in a wild tangle around her face, bruises

Beigely Familiar You’re walking down the sidewalk on your way home. A chilly breeze blows, and you hunch your shoulders, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket. Feeling a need for spontaneity, you decide to take a different turn. After five minutes of walking you come upon a corner store. You feel an urge to go in and you don’t know why; maybe because the store looks impossible somehow, with its smudged outline and colors that are slightly less visible than the colors of the other buildings

Sherman J. Alexie’s “This is What It Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona” has multiple interconnecting themes and symbolic ideas throughout his story. Alexie’s story can be simplified as the death of a father changed his son’s life. However, it is more complex than that throughout the story. There are hidden connections all through Alexie’s work. One hidden connection is the character Thomas Builds-the-fire. Thomas is Victor’s childhood friend, and is the reservations goofball, storyteller. Thomas plays

“You have Cancer.” A single sentence that is among the most devastating words one could hear from a doctor today. They immediately cause one to go into shock then fear then shock, swinging back and forth like a pendulum in an old clock. Suddenly, time becomes the most valuable resource known to man and one will sacrifice everything else to get more. Cancer, has followed me through life almost like my own shadow, never truly touching me but gripping those I love. Who knew that three years ago sitting

The Career Wars Today’s the day. I run down the brown wood stairs. They creak as I hop down. I sprinted out of the old brick house to the frosty outdoors, It reminds me of when I was younger and I used to go over to my friend Amber’s house to ride with them to school. To our crisp white mailbox with the thick black house numbers. I open the small door to the mailbox and grab the pilled mail. “Man we haven’t gotten the mail in a long time.” I whisper to myself in the silent morning. I sprint to

Antonia is walking through the tall green grass on her way home from Jim’s house. Once she approaches her little house on the prairie and she walk into her home. Antonia sees her mama lost in her thoughts. Mama what’s the problem? Now my Antonia I saw a man furiously peek into the windows at our home. I tried to hide and not make noise at all. “when was this mama.” Just a few seconds before you walked in Antonia. I must of scared him away when the sharply, high-pitched floor board squeaked as

“Goooooaaaaaallllllll!!!!!” Khayone screamed as I ran back screaming that we won. Khayone has been my best friend for the past 5 years. I met him on Saturday, October 14, 1995. I remember every moment of that day vividly. How could I ever forget the day I met my best friend? It all started when my Mom and I were lugging two big buckets of water each all the way home from the town’s water hole. . My feet were killing me! We had to walk ten miles each way to get water twice a week. I was willing to

My life in the country was simple, I did not have to work as a paperboy, my father was actually alive at that time, and I got to see my mother more often. My life is very different now because of the war. It was November 11, 1918, school was canceled everywhere and the streets were crowded with people of every race cheering. I was excited, but then I remembered my father playing baseball with my brothers and me in the front yard before the war even started. “Nice catch,” he would say as I