Death Valley We’ve let out more sweat than we ever have before. Off in the distance we see trees, and where there's trees there's water. Every step felt like we lost a part of our body. When we finally make it to the trees we saw three trailers and a small, covered porch. We approach it not knowing what or who could be in there. We find stale oatmeal, cans of beans, beer and jerky so old it's turned white. We may be able to stay alive for two weeks with this. Everything out here is horrible, I don’t know how anything could live like this but it’s not normal, no animal or human being should have to live in this kind of heat. One week has already passed. We’re out of food. Nothing to eat for miles. We have no idea where we are or what we’ll
It snows almost everyday and we don’t have any ventilation in our small huts. Whenever we light a fire to maybe hope the cold will fade, if even for a few moments, we are forced to put it out so we don’t get overrun by smoke. Our cause is running out of food and clothes. We are out of our main source of protein already. I can’t bear to listen to the chants of “No Meat! No Meat!” for much longer.(Doc C) It hasn’t affected me yet, but I’m sure it will if I stay. The cold and poor ventilation are two horrible problems that take many lives, luckily I’m still alive and well, but who knows what will happen if I
As I walked down the gravel road, breathing became more difficult as the harsh sun beat on my back. I did not know if I could withstand it much longer. All I could think about was the sun - until I made eye contact with a little boy. His oversized t-shirt was drenched in sweat and dirt. He was breathing heavily, fighting tears to no avail. It was then, the large mass on the side of his forehead became more obvious. I could no longer selfishly feel the heat - only empathy for I knew the root of his pain: denial of proper medical assistance.
I wish I had taken the time to watch the squirrels. Instead, I was shivering in the 35 degree night in my poorly insulated survival shelter somewhere in the New York backcountry. Reading Tom Brown's field guide for wilderness survival had inspired me to test my newly learned skills on a three day survival hike, with eight campers looking to me for guidance. In high spirits after a root stew, we all crawled into our individual debris hut shelters for our first night buried in sticks and leaves. By 12am, my shivering affirmed that I had made a mistake. Laying in the miserable cold, I remembered what Tom Brown had said about watching the squirrels stuff their nests to the brim with insulation, and on the edge of hypothermia, quickly got out to
We had chosen the topic of food deserts a bit flippantly. We’d casually chosen Homewood, too, because it was the closest food desert to our school and only had one small grocery store. It was less than three miles from us, but as we approached the struggling town the bustle of the city seemed to die down. It was a blustery morning in January, but it was still oddly deserted as we pulled up to a man hoisting cases of potatoes out of his small sedan. We couldn’t turn back, so we swallowed our pride and got out of the car. We were there to do field
It’s been a few hours now, and we’ve been walking for so long. We have been long gone from our forest, but we have to find the source of thris drought.
Imagine yourself, alone, sitting there, in a random spot in the park. Cold because there are no blankets, and starving because the last time you ate was days ago. Sitting there with nothing but the clothes on your back, and a shopping cart with the little belongings you have inside. A fever burning inside, and rain pouring down your face because there is no roof over your head. And a dream, a dream of a house with a shower, a stove, a fridge, and a roof.
The grills, too, were closed to prevent escape. Air entered only through the cracks. So we travelled for 24 hours, without food or water. We were hungry and thirsty. But the desire and hope to see our families made us forget everything else.”
One day when I was thirteen, I was at my sister’s apartment in June. I had just woken up at 7:30am, and the kids were still sleeping. That day was the first day I took care of my nephew Adrian, and my nieces Sophia and Penelope. They were still sleeping, so I let them sleep. I sat there wondering how bad they would be when they woke up. When they did wake up it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but they did wake up hungry.
Her name is Meredith, she’s 18, a senior in high school, and has the life everyone wants. She has the cute boyfriend, Elliot, (who is the captain of the football team), and a best friend, who always has Meredith’s back. She also has parents who got her a sleek black Mustang Convertible.
Two IT’S BEEN A long time since I’ve been on a road like this. A freeway, I think, with roads going onwards and onwards until somewhere I don’t know. I don’t think I ever will. The sun is shrouded by the violet waves of anguish, of the hideous things people like to call clouds.
A bright light stings my eyes as I come to. I look up to see where I am, the place is familiar but I can't seem to bring back the memory of this place. I notice in a cornor a dark red stain and something next to it. A body? A corpse.
Just across the park is a Cemetery. Every night when the park closes, the Cemetery would mysteriously open its gates whenever the clock hits nine. At that time, a storm of clouds cast a dark shadow on the Cemetery. A dimly lit shade of red coming from the moon would also cast itself onto the clouds and area as a whole. When the clock hits ten, screams of the dead can be heard coming from each individual grave stone. The ground will also begin to heat it, as the pavement’s boiling grounds are reminiscent of the fiery pits of hell. Suddenly as the clock hits eleven, blood oozes from the ground along with bones and skin decayed from time. Then the cloud begins to squeeze hot, boiling blood out creating and endless precipitation of bloody that
The sun became almost unbearable; it was gleaming down on us like a magnifying glass beaming down on ants. I regret not putting on sunscreen, but that wasn’t the biggest of my worries. Trying to avoid the heat, we rapidly walked to botanical gardens drive. Preoccupied with the heat, we lost track of our whereabouts. To make matters worse it was so hot that the moment I wiped my forehead of sweat I immediately started to perspire once again. In desperation we asked a man coming up the street from the chemical sciences building where the gardens might possibly be.
As I stepped out into the gleaming sunlight, I had to shield my eyes from the sudden glare that came to rest upon my eyes as I moved out of the shadows of my family’s dimly-lit garage. After not seeing the sun for over two months, I paused to muse about how unusual it felt to finally be under the sun’s rays again, along with how strange it was to venture forth into the environs without anything related to winter wear protecting my sensitive skin from the biting cold. It was a Monday afternoon, and the weather app on my phone brightly informed me that we would enjoy a high of eighty-one, and the lowest temperature, barely falling below fifty seven. I had to stop and think back as to why I had ever complained about the weather here in Arizona, but I suppose experiencing what the other end of the meteorological spectrum has to offer really puts things into perspective. After I had my moment of adjustment, I climbed into the passenger seat of my mother’s Mazda and after she had finished her never-ending feud with the GPS system of the vehicle, we began the journey to our restaurant of choice, The Farm Kitchen.
A Town Called Hopeville I awoke early to a cold and rainy day. I could sleep no more for this was the day I am removed from childhood and thrust into adulthood. This is the day that I shall learn what fate I must endure for the rest of my life. On this day, all thirteen year old girls and boys are taken to the arena to learn what the elders of our town, Hopeville, have decided shall be our place in society for the rest of our lives. What they feel is best for society.