The baby’s sitting in a little tupperware container getting a bath when I walk into the room. My sister looks dead. Her eyes are closed, black bags hanging underneath. “Isn’t He precious?” My mom asks. I don’t say anything, and just watch as the nurse manhandles the newborn. Nurses and veterinarians need to be more gentle. For Christ sakes, they’re little creatures. Animals are helpless, and baby’s still have that soft spot on their head where their skulls haven’t fully fused together yet. I know you want to go home, but come on. Take some pride in your work. My sister says she needs to feed him. He’s probably hungry. You’d be hungry too if you hadn’t eaten in nine months and just got squished between the walls of a mushy cave for two hours. “Yeah, you …show more content…
I’m holding my breath and biting my lip to keep from dying laughing. She’s wiping him down, then splashing water on his soapy skin. Reagan’s sitting in the tub half sleeping. He looks like a doll that those little girls play with, pretending they have a baby of their own. The kind of doll that makes kids want to have babies far too young. They escort us into a new room, and my sister puts the baby into his little bed. For the first time, I get a good look at him. There’s something so serene about babies. Innocent and at ease. No concrete thoughts, no good and bad. Nothing occupying their mind with unhappiness, and no worry about the future. Their presence is intoxicating. Usually newborns look like aliens with funny shaped heads and eyes and noses smashed together. Not him. He’s gonna be a heartbreaker when he gets older. The next two days are spent at the hospital. Back and forth between home and visiting my sister. I come back, and there are always be more flowers. Vases in the shape of baby strollers. Big dandelions and roses. Colorful shit. Each time I’d walk in the room after smoking, she’d ask me if I smell. Probably. After the first three times she asked, I stopped responding. It was
It has been too long since I last wrote to you, so I thought I would inform you on momentous events that happened in my life in the last little while. The previous time I heard from you was when Gabriel turned three. I can’t believe he is about to become a teenager now. My goodness, time flies by so fast. I was so ecstatic when I saw your prior letter arrive in my mail.
and they still can not decide what to do about the baby. They are standing out in the hallway,
see it in her mouth. So just like any normal brother would do, I told her not
In the novel “Lord of the Flies” by William Golding, kids are trapped on an island, away from home. They didn’t just appear there out of thin air; they were on a plane which crash landed on the island with no sign of wreckage besides a large gully where the plane landed called “the scar”. Though they may be lost, they finally came together and began to explore the island. They were gifted with the island they crashed upon, since the island had warm weather, food and water, allowing them to survive. Whilst exploring and learning more about their temporary home, they decide to elect someone out of their group to lead the pack. Some disagreed but they came to a conclusion and finally elected Ralph to lead them through their journey of unawareness
Jackie Kranz Ms. Sentner Period 5 October 17, 2017 Ava & Lily Lily - I was bored. I had something to eat, watched some television, played with my Nintendo, did my homework, and it was still only eight o’ clock. My friend Ariel was out, and I sat looking at the goldfish swimming around their tank, wondering what I could do. Then the telephone rang, and my life changed forever.
Today can easily be described as one of the most interesting yet unlucky days of my short life. I am on a stranded island. Alone. No parents, adult supervisors like the ones from our school, no, well, civilization. All I can think about is my family, and the few close friends I had back home.
I felt like a coward for leaving Ernie's, to tell you the truth. I walked an entire 41 blocks from the nightclub back to the hotel. Along the way, I thought about my gloves and how they were stolen at Pencey. I imagined up an elaborate confrontation with the unknown thief, but I realized I am a coward and am quite the pacifist and I can't even harm a fly. I don't like violence or confrontation, so this would probably never happen in this world.
I had so many friends. They were soft, silent and sometimes sophisticated. They are the closest to me. I can tell them anything that I am thinking and they will always keep it a secret. However, I have been wondering if I could actually see the real animals outside,but my nanny is too busy while taking care of me. "Mr. Christopher, your parents are here!" yelled my nanny.
After we opened the gift my brother Davis and I saw it was baby clothes. At first I had no idea why we got baby clothes. I thought the clothes was from my baby dolls. Finally, Davis figured out that my Mom was going to have a baby girl.
Guys, I'm not lying when I tell you this but yes my cat did pass away. I'm sorry if it seemed that it was a joke but I had known for a while that he wasn't going to survive and am not trying to think about it too much which is why I didn't seem that sad about it. The reason I hadn't told you about it was that I didn't know how to, but Ava told me I should which is why we were talking. Ever since we got him he never acted like a kitten should. He never really played or moved around too much and when we took him to the vet I had a feeling he was sick. He was vomiting up his antibiotics and so my mum took him to the vet and they said they could do an operation to see what was wrong. He died after the operation when they found out he had liver
When I wake up, I see everything blurry. I blink a few times. My mind wanders for an explanation. Today I am Julia Scuccuglia. She is twelve years old and moved from Brazil about a week ago.
It’s 1931, my throat is dry, I’m breathing in dust, and my eyes are burning as the Sun brighter than a thousand candles shines on us. Mama, Papa, and I stand in front of our field where we have been tryin’ to grow crops for months. Not a single sprout. Papa grabs the dirt, lifts it up, and massages it in his hands. It shows us what we thought was happening: The ground is unable to grow crops.
There is a growing acknowledgement of the benefits of education in prison. Education in prison, which falls under Adult Education, has both pre-release and post-release benefits for both the prisoner and for society. Education in prison plays a major role in preparing prisoners to return to society, it can prevent re-offending and can help prisoners cope with their sentence. Prison can have a negative impact on the prisoner and education in prison can help compact this. Prison “by its very nature is abnormal and destructive of the personality in a number of ways” and education has the “capacity to render the situation less abnormal, to limit somewhat the damage done to men and women through prison” (Council of Europe, 1990, p.15).
When discussing the poetic form of dramatic monologue it is rare that it is not associated with and its usage attributed to the poet Robert Browning. Robert Browning has been considered the master of the dramatic monologue. Although some critics are skeptical of his invention of the form, for dramatic monologue is evidenced in poetry preceding Browning, it is believed that his extensive and varied use of the dramatic monologue has significantly contributed to the form and has had an enormous impact on modern poetry. "The dramatic monologues of Robert Browning represent the most significant use of the form in postromantic poetry" (Preminger and Brogan 799). The dramatic monologue as we understand it today "is a lyric poem in which the speaker addresses a silent listener, revealing himself in the context of a dramatic situation" (Murfin 97). "The character is speaking to an identifiable but silent listener at a dramatic moment in the speaker's life. The circumstances surrounding the conversation, one side which we "hear" as the dramatic monologue, are made by clear implication, and an insight into the character of the speaker may result" (Holman and Harmon 152).