My Dad Will Kill Me

“Our generation doesn't ring the doorbell. They text or call to say they're outside,” this line is from one of the well-known social networks, Tweeter, which shows how the way of communication has change in this modern life. According to 2013 statistics by Business Insider, in United States alone, smartphone owners aged 18 to 24 send 2,022 texts per month on average — 67 texts on a daily basis — and receive another 1,831 texts (Cocotas). Nowadays, technology such as text messaging has practically replaced traditional face to face communication among the society primarily in young generations because texting allows messages to be sent fast and effortless. In order to quickly type what they are trying to say in text messaging, people are

As my car climbed the hill, my heart sunk into my stomach. I parked as far away from my friends as I could and quickly exited the car, not once looking at them. Now it was every man for himself. Emerging into the open air, I suddenly became aware of myself. I could feel my puffy, blood-shot eyes. My palms became slimy. My fingers clinched into a fist and my nails dug into my skin. My sight blurred and my tunnel of vision tried to focus on the front door. Every step seemed more awkward than the last. Eyes pierced me from all sides. I felt naked. My body trembled like a sheep in the midst of wolves.

I decided to text message a friend that I hadn’t seen or spoken to in approximately a year and half. This was our dialog:

I sprinted up the stairs, taking no time to stop for breakfast. I had to make it to the factory by 5 or I’d be beaten. The fear of punishment gave me extra speed as I ran out the door into the smoggy darkness. As I ran, I tied back my long blonde hair with the ribbon tied around my wrist. I ran down the cobblestone street, careful not to step in any of the piles of mud. The streets were devoid of carriages, anybody rich enough to own a horse wasn’t getting up this early. The only people I shared the streets with were other children and adults going to work.

My mind was going one thousand miles per hour, those words haunting my head. Hot tears flowed down my face as the words sunk in. I slumped in my seat feeling exhausted and too cold for this warm house. My father’s arms reached for me, trying to comfort me. He wouldn’t understand the mental loss that was turning into physical pain. My chest heaved for air, trying to get this drowning feeling out of these thoughts that envelope me bringing a soft cloak of anxiety. “Not again, please.”

i said ''nothing'',i heard my dad coming out of his bedroom so i hide the book under my bed and started pretending to be asleep, my dad started to wake me up so we can go have fun in this techstore so he can buy me my first smart phone, the thing is inside of me, I felt this new detective spirit growing inside of me, we went to the store so we can have this phone we heard shot fires inside of the stores looked like Marcus and his gang are hitting again this store like they did in the bank my dad called back up, but couldn't stand the view that my moms best friend Katherine is being threatened as she was

As I entered Fuddruckers the night of November 22nd, 2014, I had no intent of seeing my boyfriend with my best friend eating together. I decided to approach them not knowing what was going on. After taking a few steps, I felt like concrete was drying in my chest. This heartbreak was unexpected. How can I have felt as if I was on top of the world one minute and cut down the next? I saw it coming, but I didn’t believe the world could possibly be so cruel. Seeing his lips touch hers seemed fictitious to me.

Pop the text came in, pop...pop...pop, they come in all in at once. All from my friend Kenzie: The first one just said, “Liv”, and then the next one, “OMG wake up”, and the next, “Hellooooo I'm needing you”, and then the last, “meet me on fourth street….it's urgent”.

I just ran. Before I knew it, I was out of the trailer and walking back down the trail. That’s when the real fear set in, it’s strange how you feel so open and exposed walking on a trail. The trailer was sitting there it looked almost evil. I turned a corner and it disappeared out of sight. But the feeling of being followed remained. The trail was almost a trench carved in along a steep hill one side it sloped down and you could see a small pond. I began to visualize what could've happened. The different ways it could’ve ended. I wanted to go back and see if someone was really there, but I knew that would be a waste of time. I summed it up in my head as the wind pushing the door open. I still constantly turned back, looking over my shoulder to see if there was some truth to what I thought, if something was actually following me. It was a windy day out and as the wind the blew the trees would creak and crack. Branches fell off and slammed on the ground crashing down and taking other branches with it. The sound was amplified through the quiet and almost sleeping woods. It was strange, there were no animals, no squirrels or chipmunks. The woods were dead. I was still looking over my shoulder every now and again, still startled by what I had experienced. The walk took way longer than it should’ve. It felt like the seconds were minutes and no matter how fast I walked I couldn't keep up with the pace in my mind.

My heart began to race faster than a cheetah, my legs were numb, and I couldn’t tell whether or not I was actually running. The feeling of the crisp and hot summer air quickly entering my lungs felt rough, while the air was escaping even faster. As I struggle to look behind to see if he was close enough to get me I tried to exclaim while trying to grasp some air for my lungs, “Xouse, he’s gaining, on us, come on!”. As the hot asphalt burnt the bottom of my shoes off, I continued running into the alley of two apartment complexes as my cousin followed. I looked at Xouse, I saw the agony on his face, my vision went blurry, next thing I knew I was standing in front of a wall, with nowhere to go. I looked back to see if we were finally safe, and then I knew, I should have never left the by myself.

I always check my text messages and my emails before I shower and get dressed. On this morning there was a text from my buddy Nick to meet me for coffee at a nearby restaurant. This is unusual because I rarely sit down for coffee with a friend I usually have coffee at home and maybe meet a friend after work or school for a beer or two at a local sports bar. I answered the text and told Nick I'd meet him at 10 that morning.

As I woke up from my nap, thanks to Riya’s shouting of a lion, I checked my phone for any texts. There were a couple random,

“Fine,” I sighed as I rounded a corner into the bathroom. I’ll never forget this moment. In my flustered disarray, I didn’t see the huge puddle of water on the ground. I bolted into the room, expecting to feel the cool, smooth tiles on the soles of my feet. Instead, I felt myself slipping. It happened so quickly. I couldn’t think, it was like my mind had been turned off all of a sudden. I didn't think to grab the handle of the door, or to brace myself on the wall.

Since the technological phenomenon towards the end of the 20th century, text messaging has been widely used by cellphone users, specifically teenagers, in order to get their conversations across easier and quicker in a very convenient way. In the modern technology world, people have become so accustomed to the idea of

As the light turned green, I sat for a moment, not moving, and asked myself what I was going to do. Then I accelerated slowly, waiting for the car on my left to pass as I changed over to the left lane. I made four left turns at four consecutive stoplights until I approached the library again. Pulling into the library's parking lot, I turned off my lights, radio, and heat. As I opened the car door, the cold air stung me like a quick slap to my face. Slowly and uncertainly, I walked toward Mike.