Through the corner of my eye, a car surged to a halt at the blinking red light. The breeze collided with my face, what a good feeling it was, cooling my warm skin. In the sweltering heat, a heat as wild as a loose, angered gorilla, I gazed through the tinted matt window, it was difficult to see. I made a picture out of the fuzzy view and saw a glamorous women sat beside a striking man. I looked at the car, with watery eyes, I regretted how I, I could have earned myself a fabulous car like that; it was not the case as I derailed my education far too early to get myself there. I turned a deaf ear to it. After a while I was curious of who was in such an elegant car. Was it a doctor? Or was it a geologist? I was so perplexed; I had to turn to my work buddy. I asked Bruce “Who d’ya think they are mate?”, but the answer was already something I knew, “Some filthy rich couple”. Then suddenly all four windows rolled down. Was it Homer Simpson! No, just the stench of garbage getting to me yet another time. Well it did remind me of him. An old mans suit reflected in a posh mixture of white, g...
It was a dark, rainy night. Anna was driving alone on the wet streets of Portland, Oregon to her parents’ house. Her windshield wipers were waving like crazy, and her headlights were not shining bright. When then she knew that all safety was lost, in this closed off forest, in my small car. The radio was screaming fun jazz music to lighten the mood. Though Anna was tired and weak wishing for the drive to be over. Little did she know her life was about to change, for the better and worse.
A gust of air audibly exited my lungs as I opened the creaky door of my mother’s beat up four door car. Charley didn’t have the same spring in his step that was present in his youth, but he did his best to run over and hop in. I wish he didn’t try so hard. My heart sank as he made vain attempts at pulling himself into the vehicle. I bent down and gave him a little assistance. He was quick to turn around and look at me anxiously. He never felt comfortable if I wasn’t sitting with him. I took my place in the back seat and slowly closed the door.
The part of her hair gave birth to a running red river, so deep and rich and full of life it could call to mind in certain individuals of a sanguine cascade down stairs. The shape of her forehead, coupled with the delicate white of her skin, cast upon the room like a crescent moon. Then her face, the most angelic face, one of innocence and childhood ardor, had hints of lust carved into the creases around the eyes and besetting the lips. Her eyes were what she unaf...
It's dark out. The street remains quiet and the sounds of the city have faded. A woman walking down the street crosses, her heels thumping against the sidewalk. As she walks further into the night she feels a presence upon her. Suddenly the worries of the day have escaped her mind. All she can think about was the increasing echo of heavy footsteps behind her. Heart beating, she skips along the street, heels thumping with every step. She reaches a stoplight, and her heels come skidding to a stop. Her chest is aching and she's beginning to accept her fate, when, the man steps into the light with her. At first she looks away, praying that he won’t choose her as his next victim. As the seconds vanish, she decides to turn, to take a peek at the man breathing quietly beside her. Her brown hair whips around her shoulder and she clutches her handbag studying the man. It was difficult to make out his face in the poorly lit corner, but as she examined him she took note of his shiny blue eyes and light complexion. Without delay, her shoulders relax, and she releases the tight grip
We drove in silence, the only noise being her deep breathing and my short, shallow sighs. I realized just how far I had walked, as we drove to my house- at least 5 miles. When we reached our house, I looked at it, as if I was seeing it for the first time in my life- the old fashioned porches, the balcony, the huge, beautiful windows. I stayed in the car, as did Micha, neither of us making an attempt to move as she commented on the grass needing cut, and the mess the neighbors had made in the front yard. I heard her, but I wasn't listening- I was merely staring ahead of me, debating if I should get out and run inside or try to justify my actions.
The door opened. She stood in the breach surveying the parking lot. Satisfied she turned, locked the door and hurried across the deserted lot to her car, a red Toyota with more rust than red. The tap tap of her high heels beat a drum on the cracked asphalt. The moon scurried behind the clouds as if to hide its face in horror
He meandered down the road, expecting to see some merchants or really anything, but there was nothing. He had figured this was a very small town, but he had not expected this. It was practically deserted. The sun was setting as he walked to his small living area, and out of nowhere, a young woman ran past him. He tried stop her to see what was going on, but she was quick and didn’t look back. He kept on walking to his hotel, wondering about the girl and why she was alone and was in such a hurry. When he arrived at his room, he took a short nap so that he would not be tired for his job that night, whatever it was. When he woke up, the small clock in his room read 9:30 pm. He lumbered out of his bed and started walking over to the farm where he and the farmer were supposed to meet. The air was cooler than during the day, but not cold. It was actually a fairly nice night for a walk. He went to the field to meet the
People of all varieties in all parts of the world have reported experiencing déjà vu. According to Art Funkhouser, creator of the Déjà Experience Research website, a variety of people, young and old, both within and outside the U.S.A. have sent him unsolicited accounts of their déjà experiences (Funkhouser, 2014). On his website, he posts these firsthand narratives as a resource for other researchers and so that visitors who have experienced the phenomena may parallel their own accounts with those reported to him. He provides a page where visitors can submit their encounter with déjà vu to augment the rapidly expanding database. The following accounts are extracted from his website and have been condensed for brevity. The first account is from M. of the U.S.A. M. relates that he vividly remembers how he feels when déjà vu starts and that it always combines the place and the actions he takes and that everything and everyone around him is involved. M. says, “All of a sudden I freeze ¬ and the feeling comes over me and I realize I¹ve done and seen and heard ...
As I walked out of Cazares Driving school, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. I never wanted to return to that awful place. All I wanted to do was curl up in a little ball and I didn't want anyone else to know what I had done. I didn't even want to hear what my mom had to say. As I entered the car I could feel my face burning like hell surely enough it was red like an apple. I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands as I imagined all the remarks my mom and brothers had to make. "Darling how could we have miscalculated six months?"
The question of what causes the déjà vu experience has been wondered for many years. A vast variety of theories have been researched, but still no one knows the definite reason of why it transpires. A hypothesis to consider, and what the rest of the report will be focused on, is that déjà vu results from a form of recognition memory known as familiarity-based recognition (Cleary, 2008). To expand on this, the article Recognition Memory, Familiarity, and Déjà vu Experiences will be referenced.
My car squatted in the parking lot like a bug on a blackened, cooled, lava flow. I dreaded going back to my normal life after enjoying a weekend of such freedom and pleasure. Duties and obligations began to flitter though my mind as I once again began to think like an insect in a hive. I looked back over my shoulder, fondly remembering the freedom the wonderful weekend blessed me with, and vowed that I would once again return to experience the pleasure and seclusion that lay hidden therein.
Have you ever been talking with your friends, or visiting a new restaurant and suddenly felt as if you have experienced this exact moment before? This bizarre sensation of feeling like you have already encountered a specific situation is called déjà vu (Lewis, 2012). In fact, it literally means “already seen” in French. Various reasons explain the cause of déjà vu. First, researchers have related it to the mismatch in the brain as it seeks to form complete perceptions with only minimal inputs. Our brain takes sensory information from our environment to create a memory. Déjà vu could be mix-up between that sensory input and trying to retrieve a memory. Another theory of déjà vu suggests a glitch between our long and short-term memory. As you
The third maddening buzz of my alarm woke me as I groggily slid out of bed to the shower. It was the start of another routine morning, or so I thought. I took a shower, quarreled with my sister over which clothes she should wear for that day and finished getting myself ready. All of this took a little longer than usual, not a surprise, so we were running late. We hopped into the interior of my sleek, white Thunderbird and made our way to school.
The car was hot and stuffy when I slipped back into the driver's seat. I found the most depressing music I owned and drove out of Glenwood as the sun started to set. Two more hours until I was home, two more hours of thinking what a terrible day I had gone through, and two more hours of cussing myself for being so naïve. The drive was a long one.
As I bent down to tie my shoelace, a slippery raindrop slithered down my lightly freckled cheek. Before I had the chance to look up at the silver sky, the clouds exploded like champagne flowing over the edge of a bottle. Renee grabbed my hand, and we darted off as fast as our little legs could run. As I hopped into the middle of the backseat, the scent of the brand new car continued to saturate my already moist pores.