I Cried

summer stars’’ I sang along with them, One Direction. I stood with Lou and Lux in the VIP section surrounded by screaming fangirls. Lou Teasdale was One Direction’s hair stylist and Lux Atkin was her daughter, and I am Niall Horan’s sister, Faith Horan. Living the life of a small-celebrity, YouTuber, and touring with One Direction. Being Niall Horan’s sister is every directioners’ dream, it’s nice and but, hate/death threats. I always see at least one comment or tweet about how I “don’t deserve

was the first day that I would never see my father again. I no longer felt the comfort of the sound of the trickling water through the walls when he would shower and the feeling of accomplishment when I could make him belly laugh. I had gone to work for the night and, half way through my shift a police officer came in. The police officer took my boss outside to speak with him. My co-workers and I joked around about who it was gonna be. I assured them that it was not anything I had done. When my boss

said we were playing hide and seek. I did not recall playing, I think I must have missed something when you screamed in my face and shoved me back into that closet, shut the doors. Locked them. I never heard any hesitation, I never heard your feet still on the old floor boards when I cried out because I was afraid of the dark. I screamed at first, and when you finally let me out I listened to you convince me not to tell Mom. Dad wouldn’t care, and I’m not sure how I knew that even then, before he went

I cried and cried but my mom insisted, “You have to go.” I whined back, “ I don’t want to!” Everyone was already in the car ready to go, and I refused to leave my home for eight hours without my mom there with me. I eventually gave in and got in the car with my older sister, and brother. The year was 2010 and it was the first day of first grade. The thought of leaving my mom everyday terrified me. My brother and sister were already in the car ready to go, as I whined to my mom about how it wasn’t

and before that I can’t remember” (Cisneros 3). Each time they’ve moved, the kids had to go to a new school and the parents had to find jobs that are closer to them. Meaning that they are learning things that could have learned before or they are just now learning the material and not really understanding the information. When you beg for something your parents you can get it most of the time. “In the canteen, which was nothing special, lots of boys and girls watched while I cried and ate my sandwich

and exchanging of gifts. For Christians, gift-giving comes from the three wise men, who presented treasures to Christ. Beads of sweat trickled down my cheeks. The sun throbbed like a pulsing heart on the verge of death. “Mom, I think it’s dead,” my little brother, Philip cried. Five newborn kittens laid, scattered across my grandmother’s yard, paralyzed by the heat. My mother had found them minutes prior, abandoned by their sole protector and provider. Two were limp atop the roof’s burning tiles, and

Lenore Alexander. The name still to this day that name sends a dejected feeling straight through my body with unrelenting force. I have never experienced pain like the pain that was felt on February 11, 2014. This was the day that my Nana was taken all too soon from this world. Taken from me. But first I shall start at the beginning. Lenore Van Natta was the most giving individual you could ever find. She gave so much to everyone and never expected anything in return. Her doors were always

Nighttime came all too quickly. I was in my purple-painted room, laboriously working on my homework while sitting on my bed—my designated desk since I didn’t actually have one. Outside my door, my mom was bustling about in the kitchen looking for who knows what and my little brother was probably in his room secretly playing some sort of online game. It was a typical evening. Normally my dad would be home watching sports whatever, but instead, he was at his annual one-week long fishing trip with my

I It’d been years since I’d seen Jack face-to-face. The past seven decades had not been kind to him, it would seem. When I reunited with him on the docks, mere minutes before our departure for Sudan, I hardly recognized him. His features were haggard, his once-pride worn away by decades of solitude. His cheeks were sallow, his pale brow knitted together in an expression of mournful contemplation. His hair was but a withered shadow of the long, fiery glory it had once been. Tainted with streaks

“But I keep forgetting them dates.” “Betcha I could help ya, if you be nice.” “How? You worse than I am ‘bout dates.” T.J. grinned, then slyly pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to Stacey. Stacey unfolded it, looked at it curiously, then frowned. “You planning on cheating?” “Well, naw, I