As my eyes squinted open, trying to adjust to the sudden consciousness, light streaming through the windows straight into my eyes. I became aware of the pit in my stomach, threatening to swallow me whole. I rushed out of the cabin in fear of missing breakfast, although a YMCA camp in the middle of the mountains serves food like something I would find at my school cafeteria. I had only three days with these amazing people that I only see once a year and I planned on making every second count. Stepping outside, cold air hit me like a wall and the ‘dark cloud’ surrounding me only grew more opaque by each passing minute, making it hard to see the fading colors of the sunrise over Big Bear lake. I waved away the feeling of dread that was stalking me all morning, put a smile on my face, and went to go join my friends. There were a few grinning faces meeting me in the lodge. Talia and Ariana …show more content…
Breakfast the next morning was unusually quiet. Out of my peripheral vision, I watched the nine year old go around the table whispering in people's ears. After a while, the people in charge of running the camp pulled us outside. They didn’t yell. They didn’t tell us how stupid we were. They didn’t make a huge deal out of it. The adults understood why we acted a certain way, or at least understood that we made an idiotic decision. They explained that we are not bad people, but we are good people that made a bad choice. They explained to us that we need to learn from our mistakes and that it is okay to do something wrong as long as you admit it and try harder next time. When the adults finished addressing the problem, one of the women running the camp walked up to me, looked me straight in they eyes and said: “Trust your instincts, and learn from your mistakes. You have so much potential. I truly believe that you could change the world.” Those 18 words helped me understand that sometimes you need to do what right even when people might look down on
Located in the popular Yosemite National Park, Yosemite Falls is the tallest waterfall in California. Every year, mother nature’s breathtaking beauty attracts millions of people from around the world. People hike for three long and fatiguing hours in anticipation of witnessing forceful water rushing down the steep mountain from 2,425 feet above. Last summer, my family and I backpacked through the Yosemite Falls Trail and I came to learn what a truly exhausting experience it is.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
... to be inside this precarious place, I was careful with every movement. As we both lay in our bags, the cave's darkness soon soothed our eyes and sleep came to our tired bodies. Striking camp early in the morning we traversed over the white, moon lit landscape. We arrived at the car for a late lunch, which ended our camping trip.
I’m so happy you're here with us at Canyon Ranch. Whether you want to utterly unwind, ramp
I was sitting with my friend, Pistol on one of the bucking shoots watching the barrel race.
Camp was made and everyone piled into their tents to refresh themselves for the long hike ahead. Early in the morning, we struck camp and headed out on our climb. The trail started off peacefully, meaninglessly meandering through thickets of willow trees and patches of tall shifting grass. It was dim, but the markings of the well outlined trail were unmistakable. Through the trees and past the looming peak, the sun broke through the clouds and pierced the frigid state of the morning.
I wake with a start, slowly clearing sleep’s haze out of my mind. The blanket rides up, exposing my toes to the cold morning air. It is still dark, with a hint of sunrise whispering in the atmosphere. I blink and imagine everything in my room being frosted over; icicles hang off of the dresser, a hard layer of chill settles on the mirror, and little snowflakes pirouette downwards onto the rug, from a crack in the ceiling where I can see into Lucille’s room above. What a pitiful apartment building- with a nice view.
Slowly dying people. They became clearer and clearer until I realized that, finally, the sun was shining on my body. I screamed in happiness and started running towards the exit that was now so prominent. As I stumbled out into the fresh, crisp, clean air, the tears that I had been hiding for so long poured down my face like little streams of happiness. I laid down in the long, flowered grass.
For my first piece of original writing I intend to create a piece primarily written for entertainment however, I also want to portray an interest into historical and political persuasions. I aim to write this piece for an audience of teenagers to young adult who are aged from around fifteen to twenty-five and are male, I also wish to identify with those interested in political thrillers within this age range. The genre of which shall be a short fiction story consisting chiefly of narrative and written in the third person. I picture this piece as being one of a collection of short stories concerned with the political-thriller fiction sub-genre. Despite being a fiction text I aim to tie in real world non-fiction.
They were pushing the cart along the road and made a sharp turn to the left into another plain of lifeless land. The charred trees casted a shadow over the land, turning the grey anaemic road to a black ashen eye sore. The cart seemed heavier than ever, but only a few new items had made their way in. The clouds were hidden in the dense grey sky, rumbling, threatening the man and the boy with rain. They hid the cart under a tree while they found shelter for the night within the ashen trees.
In a world like today, one must stay true to their own beliefs, even if they are standing alone. A person must have a mode for motivation and a positive outlook. One of the things that keep me going in today’s world is, doing me and what makes me happy, and wanting to leave an impact on the world, no matter what people think. I realize I have done wrong in my life, but I can accept it. I’ve been lost, now I’m found. I want to leave my mark somewhere, I don’t really care where, just somewhere that it will make a difference. I’m ready to show people who I am and what I’ve done. 8) I’m proud of myself and doing what my mom has always wanted for me.
For the entirety of elementary school, the one part of my day that I would look forward to the most was the very end. As darkness fell and the day drew to a close, I would be rested on top of my purple and pink bedsheet with only the bedside lamp on. My father would lightly tap on the door to signal his arrival and slowly push it open. The hinges would inevitably send out a shriek of opposition, and my father would make a face. This is how I knew my nightly routine was about to start.
a part time worker. He had no other way to make money for his girlfriend and
Imagine it is one’s first day in high school. Standing in front befalls the entrance way to your new future, thinking of what lies ahead from the perspective of a middle school grad. One would perhaps have mixed emotions as to what to expect. Observing the new students around the corridors, it transpires as if they are dragging their feet to progress inside, for the reason that they are fresh from the blissful summer days; they are in exchange, yet again, to the reality of school homework, projects, reports and tests. Some have queries and doubts in their minds; what does one expect of themselves getting into a high school life such as this? “What remains in store for me, I wonder…” “This school year is going to be subsequently much tougher
I awoke to the sun piercing through the screen of my tent while stretching my arms out wide to nudge my friend Alicia to wake up. “Finally!” I said to Alicia, the countdown is over. As I unzip the screen door and we climb out of our tent, I’m embraced with the aroma of campfire burritos that Alicia’s mom Nancy was preparing for us on her humungous skillet. While we wait for our breakfast to be finished, me and Alicia, as we do every morning, head to the front convenient store for our morning french vanilla cappuccino. On our walk back to the campsite we always take a short stroll along the lake shore to admire the incandescent sun as it shines over the gleaming dark blue water. This has become a tradition that we do every