Jack arrived in a town called Elk Lake which was devoid of Elks and Lakes. In fact, the closest thing to a lake it had were the puddles forming in the cracked car-worn streets. There was no forest which meant no elk. The only foliage in sight were dead bushes, meaning that there was nothing to suck in the pollution. Most of the stores had a forlorn look about them as if uttering a sad sigh. Shadows prowled the streets looking for an opportunity to strike their prey. How am I supposed to live here? Not after what happened four years ago”This place looks like a war zone. As he walked down the street people flew in the shadows like ghosts looking for someone to possess.”They know what I did!” He wailed. Jack was 12 years old about 5’2” 90 lbs. His mahogany hair hung down to about his shoulders and curled up at the end. His rusty eyes seemed to match his pupils forming an endless pit of brown. …show more content…
The first thing he noticed were the beer bottles seeming to block out the sun . The second thing he noticed was his uncle passed out drunk in the sink . He was about 5’5” short for an adult but he made up for it in bulk. He 250 lbs. And with the holes in his shirt he looked just like a bowling ball. Jack walked over to him and shook his shoulder lightly. He jerked upright. Pizza stains dotted him like chicken pox. His first words to Jack were “huh who are you, why are you in my house!” To which Jack responded “ I’m your nephew I was sent to live with you” Therefore I must live with you.” You’re Lisa’s kid thought you’d be taller” He mumbled” Well I’m not, where’s my room?”“ Up the hall to the right”His uncle grumbled while grabbing another beer.On the way up he took in the pewter colored walls.This might as well be a prison. Jack’s room was not a room but in fact a closet with a blow up mattress in it. Jack came out furious how am I supposed to sleep on that.” with your body” replied Jack’s Uncle. Who then promptly passed out
Where they grew up, kids as young as 8 years old were recruited into illegal operations; Wes and Tony included. Mary tried everything she could, but had lost her sons to the wonder and curiosity that money brings. The important place a mother should hold in her son’s life vanished and she was left to take care of their mistakes. Later in their lives, both boys were caught in a heist that set them up for an entire lifetime in jail. Their arrest sent “cheering responses” from everyone in their community. The boys were not only involved with a robbery, but a murder as well. The word spread quickly about their sentences and a “collective sigh of relief seeped through Baltimore. At home, Mary wept” (Moore 155). Many families go through traumatic experiences comparable to Mary’s situation. The choices her sons made left her alone, parallel to the isolation the boys were experiencing as
Michael MacDonald’S All Souls is a heart wrenching insider account of growing up in Old Country housing projects located in the south of Boston, also known as Southie to the locals. The memoir takes the reader deep inside the world of Southie through the eyes of MacDonald. MacDonald was one of 11 children to grow up and deal with the many tribulations of Southie, Boston. Southie is characterized by high levels of crime, racism, and violence; all things that fall under the category of social problem. Social problems can be defined as “societal induced conditions that harms any segment of the population. Social problems are also related to acts and conditions that violate the norms and values found in society” (Long). The social problems that are present in Southie are the very reasons why the living conditions are so bad as well as why Southie is considered one of the poorest towns in Boston. Macdonald’s along with his family have to overcome the presence of crime, racism, and violence in order to survive in the town they consider the best place in the world.
...e river is one that the reader definitely would not see in the beginning, when the middle-aged man was complaining about simple, mundane things in his simple, mundane life. It took him this trip—and all the terrifying experiences that came with it—to realize that his ideal of nature was very different from its true form, however complex it may be. He went into the adventure with a cautious attitude, even when he tried to explore the unknowns surrounding him. But once he had ridden the rapids like they were a bucking bull, ran from rabid hillbillies, buried a body, and climbed a cliff with only his body as a tool, he was finally able to see nature’s true self and accept that it was not all pretty trees and a lone river. It was an unstoppable beast that one had to have firsthand experiences with to make a connection with—a connection that changed Ed Gentry for good.
Scarlett found her way to her feet with Molly’s help, she let her slender body lean against her friend. Slowly and unbalanced they made their way to the staircase and began to climb as they bumped into other drunken party goers who either giggled or made a perverted comments. Scarlett stumbled and almost fell again but Molly’s firm grasp held her up, They walked the long upstairs hallway but could see no sign of the boys anywhere. Then slight groans beckoned to them from the room at the end of the hall, they looked at one another and lightly laughed at the thought of two random drunks screwing in someone else's
But as a shadow flicks between buildings or a faraway window is shattered, a little voice speaks up telling you to run. It’s the awareness that, as a human being, you are no longer the apex predator- you are the prey. Now that little voice is screaming at me that something isn’t right. I should listen to it- I should really listen to it but the only thing running through my mind is that nothing will ever be right about the world now, and maybe nothing ever was. After weeks of contemplating the possibility of me being the singular survivor of an apocalypse that came too soon, the presence of this a blue-eyed boy assures me that I am not alone. The boy’s hand is clasped at the wound as I watch blood seep through his fingers and drip off his elbow onto the tiled floor. I am suddenly in awe of the events that have lead me up to this point in time; the events that have placed me here, standing on the broken glass of an abandoned convenience store’s window, pointing a gun towards a
"Do you think they'll like me?" Ruby asked restless. Bod gripped her hand tightly they walked through the streets that Bod used to watch the other children play on. "They'll love you." She smiled widely like when you give a little kid a piece of candy. It wasn't easy for Bod to tell her about his childhood, he had to be very selective about the people he told. Every step closer they got closer to the graveyard Bod got feel his heart bounding in his chest get louder and faster. His legs felt like jelly. He wasn't having second thoughts just nervous about what he would see. After all it had been ten years, would there even be a graveyard standing? What if had been turned into a school? What if she thinks I've been lying the whole time? These were all thoughts running through his head, he had battled ghouls and corrupt business men and even defeated The Jacks surely he can show off his soon to be wife, beautiful
“These boys, now, were living as we'd been living then, they were growing up with a rush and their heads bumped abruptly against the low ceiling of their actual possibilities. They were filled with rage. All they really knew were two darkness’s, the darkness of their lives, which were now closi...
Just around 10:30 p.m. Martha Jones prepared herself to get ready for bed. Brushing her teeth, washing her face, and getting into the appropriate clothing. She couldn’t seem to get something off of her mind, she had noticed that for the past couple of days that a strange man dressed in all black had been following her. Tonight the strange and mysterious man followed her home just walking on the opposite side of the street as her, not letting his eyes off of her watching as she enters her home and shutting the creaky door behind her.
The darkness of her bedroom crept into her body. As time progressed the sounds of the evening grew louder leaving her in a state of fear. Amongst the dark room she would see the shadow of someone standing outside her bedroom window. She didn’t know why someone would want to hurt her. Afraid to tell her parents she found refuge underneath the sheets of her bed. After several sleepless nights she spoke to her mother about the mysterious person outside her window. Her mother shrugged it off and told her that no one was there and not to worry. Her mother believed that this was either her imagination or eating too close to her bedtime. However, Elyn was determined to catch this mysterious man. Next, she enlisted the help of her brother Warren. Frightened they hid in the closet waiting to capture the bandit. Unfortunately, this heroic attempt was unsuccessful as the bandit never revealed himself to anyone but her. Soon it became apparent to everyone that no one was outside her window. But, these feelings of a watchful eye never fled her. As a result, Elyn spent many nights terrified underneath her sheets only falling a sleeping from
Denver’s brothers laid crippled in horror as their mother abused them and killed their two-year old sister in a wood-shed. Denver unsuccessfully coped with the loss and demonic image she had of her mother. For years she woke up everyday terrified of Sethe, unable to comprehend what caused her mother to act so savagely,
As I heard the gun shots outside the glass window, I ran terrified behind the old, brown couch in our living room and hide myself there. My heart beating increased, and currents of panic and fear ran through my body. I made an effort to connect my shivering hands and started praying, hoping that my mom and siblings were safe since they were out buying some groceries at the store that was five blocks away from our house. Fortunately, nothing happened to my family, they got home within an hour later after the shooting was over. Minutes later after their arrival, a neighbor came to our house warning us to stay inside the house until the police announce that things were back to “normal”. I was six years, and living in a neighborhood where there were daily confrontations due to gang violence and rivalry wasn’t easy. However, my family and I aimed for something better, and that meant moving to a new country, starting from zero, struggling economically, and gazing into my parent’s heartbroken expressions every time they couldn’t afford a new pair of shoes for me.
I wearily drag myself away from the silken violet comforter and slump out into the living room. The green and red print of our family’s southwestern style couch streaks boldly against the deep blues of the opposing sitting chairs, calling me to it. Of course I oblige the billowy haven, roughly plopping down and curling into the cushions, ignoring the faint smell of smoke that clings to the fabric. My focus fades in and out for a while, allowing my mind to relax and unwind from any treacherous dreams of the pervious night, until I hear the telltale creak of door hinges. My eyes flutter lightly open to see my Father dressed in smart brown slacks and a deep earthy t-shirt, his graying hair and beard neatly comber into order. He places his appointment book and hair products in a bag near the door signaling the rapid approaching time of departure. Soon he is parading out the door with ever-fading whispers of ‘I love you kid,’ and ‘be good.’
The night ebbed in the darkness brUGHT t about the memory of the most tragic event in the history of the small town of Greenville. Not knowing the tragedy that would unfold the citizens rested quietly in the slumber of that hot August night. Storm clouds loomed on the horizon with blazes of light that speckled the sky. In the distance the soft rumble of thunder brought no alarm to this quiet little town. Jenny and Blade lived in the rural area of green pine forests on the outskirts of this sleepy little town. Nowhere in the history of Greenville had such a tragedy happens, and no one was aware of the destruction that loomed on the horizon. As the night closed near the midnight hour, the wind seemed to awaken the lifeless living things in
The wasted face of a little child looked out of the windows with eyes made wild, by the ghostly shades in failing light, and the glimpse of a drunk man in in the night, cursing and reeling from side to side. The poor boy trembling and trying to hide, clung to his mother’s skirts and cried, Papas coming!
“Where have they gone?” I asked myself conscientiously. Still in an attempt to retrieve light, I managed to carry myself outside; however, when I opened the front door, I knew the sight I just witnessed would stay imprinted in my mind forever. My parent’s house was the only building left standing . . . tornado number five had swept the city and this time it left its mark for good. “How could such a thing happen?” I asked myself trying to logically think of every situation that could cause this occurrence. Now in a desperate need of finding someone, I scampered through every room and searched for any sign of a person; by my seventh roundabout of the house I concluded that no one was in the house anymore. I was alone . . . literally the last person, for all I know, in Picher,