•Tyler• Do you ever feel like you're thinking too much? Does it feel like thoughts are a swirling hurricane, trapped inside you head, and you can feel the wind howling in your ears, so you curl up and try to block out the sound but nothing seems to work? I do. Some days, I just want to be alone to calm the storm. This is one of those days. I tread through the soft earth, the surrounding trees disappearing in the gray, misty predawn. I don't need a flashlight. My feet know where to take me. Sleep avoided me during the night. My brain was too active to shut down properly. It's mostly my depressing thoughts. I hate them. Why do I have to be afflicted with this disease!? I sigh out loud. Summer is coming to a close, which means school will be starting back up soon. The only thing that I like about school is seeing my friends, like Josh and Mark. Other than that, I hate it. …show more content…
I reach out and touch the lowest wood board that has been nailed to the tree which serves as a ladder. With my ukulele occupying one hand, I use my free one to make my way carefully up the tree. I feel the weathered wood boards underneath my hands as I crawl over the ledge at the top of the ladder. My dad built this treehouse for me as a kid. Despite it's simple box shape with three windows, I loved it. I'd play in it most days with my brothers. I'm the only one who goes back to it now. I've had to replace some of the rotting boards over the years to keep up to safety standards. It's my place to escape it
In the late 20s, life was good down here in the south. The grass was long, tall, and healthy, the wind would graze over the grass like a nice comb over haircut. The crops were plentiful and could be seen for miles. Life was good, we had everything we had ever needed down here on the farm. In the summer, we would have hay bale making contests on our farm. We had a farm of about 27 acres, we grew primarily soybeans and wheat. However, life would change for the worst come the 30s.
One rather beautiful day I head down to the building fields of Uruk with my only son Urnabe. He is 14 and he is turning out to be a skilled mason or at least better than his old man. When we get there I see that Binfem was already waiting for me.
Kate Chopin, a well known prolific writer of the late nineteenth century, enlightened readers to empathize with the characters in her literary works. Upon reading and analyzing Chopin’s The Storm, the author uses a rich and profound use of setting to avoid the moral judgments of female sexuality and inner turmoil of each character as a means of providing the reader with an understanding of the suppressive nature of women living in a predominantly male governed society. Chopin illustrates the approaching of the storm as a catalyst between Calixta and Alcee, driving them into their adulterous affair. Ultimately, the retreating of the storm unveils marriage into question.
According to wikipedia tree house are usually built for leisure but sometimes are built for protection against wild scavenging animals. Marc: I feel better about storing the beer now.
“ Well ...I actually don’t know who it was, but well… here let me start from the beginning.” The man looked down at me as we stood there in blazing heat. His chiseled features of his face and arms shined brightly in the sun. “It was just right after Katrina hit around 2ish,” he recounted. “Even though it was the middle of the day no sun shined through the clouds in days. It was almost completely dark out except for tiny ray of light that had managed to seep through. The street and houses around here were completely flooded the water was up to about here” the man walked off the porch and pointed to a red line just above his head. “ When Katrina had hit I was safely inside my home but by this time I had been forced out by the water like many
I didn’t know what happened, but worse, I didn’t know what was happening. The sounds of footsteps neared my body, but I was too hurt to react.
I tried to start the car but it wouldn’t work. I turned my head again
As this school year went on, I can honestly say my feeling towards school changed drastically. Yes it is still hard and yes some classes can be boring but
I make my way through the woods; I am familiar with my path that I don’t even mind that the towering trees have blocked out the sunlight from seeping in. I know exactly where I am going. The trees are endless and lost in the sky above. An outsider would have been lost here for days. I walk on through until the towering trees stop being menacing and the sunlight becomes more and more apparent with each step. The sky above is no longer shards of indecipherable green leaves but the soft and inviting blue of the cloudless sky. I am now in the light completely, the sunbeams washing over me. I just need to walk another mile to reach my destination.
In Christina’s vast, shadowy and handicapped world, there was nothing that seemed to make her feel as free as she would ever physically be able to, which was to sit on her doorstep, and soak in all her surroundings. She had developed a sense of oneness with nature. But this was not enough to pacify the yearning for freedom. Although she always saw the glass more than half full, it was still empty, and nothing seemed to fill up the hollow patch.
“Please don’t go Dad.” Ell said with tears forming at the corners of her eyes, “Please don’t”. “I’ll always be here honey, never stop trying” Ell’s father said with his last breath. The room fell silent, then the heart rate monitor let out a single droning beep. Ell’s father had gone still, and now with tears rolling down her cheeks, Ell hugged her father, “I’ll make sure of it Dad”.
As soon as brother had finished eating, we ran off to our secret hideout, Horsehead Landing. Brother kept mumbling under his breath, “Time is running out. School is starting soon. How am I going to get Doodle to be like the other six-year olds?” The sun was beginning to set east with brilliant shades of dark purple, blue, light orange and pink. The dark evergreen green trees cast ominous shadows along the desolate forest. When we reached the shoreline of the landing, brother told me to enter the boat and start to row down the creek with the tide. My limbs burned as I moved them up and around in constant motion, but my mind was telling me to punch through the pain. After I had drifted a long way into the creek, brother put the oars in place
The crisp, spring air envelops me in a blanket of earthy scents that is welcomed in my nostrils. The spongy ground gives way to my lightweight, dull orange and brown hiking boots as I embark on my venture. I push through the masses of tangled underbrush whose thorny branches that reach out to grab me as I pass through and it seems like it is dusk because there is very little light penetrating the gnarled barricade of the dark green thicket. When I reach the other side, my eyes readjust to the golden light that seems to be tinted lime green through the canopy of leaves overhead. This scene is much different than the thicket in every aspect.
Sitting. Waiting. Sulking. Suffering. The days, unforgiving, continued to seep the life out of the lonesome man.
“Hey sis, come over here,” Mei called “What is it?” I asked her as I started walking her direction. She was standing at the edge of the woods staring at something through the trees. As I stood next to her I noticed what she was pointing out. There was a beautiful village hidden in the woods, and it was full of elves.