The soft pitter patter of the rain on the ceiling and windows drowned out the defining silence. The smells of old books and freshly printed papers surrounded you from the entrance to the tiny coffee shop in the corner. As I made my way over to the smell of fresh cocoa and coffee beans I ordered a hot cocoa and open the worn leathered book. The pages frail and tattered with water stains and wrinkled, my brain began to scan the page and let the story unfold and tell a story of forbidden love, rough seas, and heartbreak.
In faded black ink barely still readable was "The Book of Sir Balfour Given January 2, 1621" in tiny hand-written print at the bottom the cover said, "For the Voyage to America, given to Sir Barnabas". As I slid my fingers
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The captain yelling down to the people on the dock to untie the ship overpowered the waves hitting the dock and shore and the few distant families mingling with each other. Not too long after that, they were herded down the ship to a small area. This will be home for 2 months. Stacked like cargo, he set up my little pallet that he would call a bed. Laying down and closing his eyes trying to get used to the sway of the ship, the stench, the shouting only a few floors above. Slowly sleepiness took over, and he began to forget about everything and let the blackness take over. Letting his brain create demons and angles in his dreams. Minutes blended hours. Hours blended into days. Days blended into weeks. Storms blended into easy rocking of the ship. The only memorable moments were when his mother and father dropped like flies and the sad funeral of throwing the bodies overboard and letting their souls rest in the bottom of the …show more content…
All he wanted to do was to shake his fist up at God and ask why, why them, why did they have to die? Quietly, the only person to say a word to him since the passing of his parents and sibling slid down next to him and sat there, in silence, just being there. Slowly he couldn’t stop his thoughts, and they came in like a flood, like a breaking dam, flooding his thoughts. With that spilt-second tears came down like a hurricane. Leaning against the only person who stood with him in the hard times. His boding racking up and down, like a spasm. His face covered in tears, soaking his shirt and his friend's shirt, wishing it could all go away. Wishing his father and mother could come back, could be back on the ship not at the bottom of an ocean, wishing his sibling could be born. But that will never happen, they will never come back, his family will never say 'hi', 'have a good day', 'have a good day' there will never be another moment with his mom, never another learning moment from his dad, he was alone once
Just a night. An ordinary night, around fifteen to eleven o’clock. I lay there playing with my xacto knife kit. It belonged to my Grandfather’s aunt. So I guess that’s my great great aunt. Well anyways I finally set aside my kit and started to try and sleep. I’m at my grandparents house in the Fairfax District of Los Angeles. The house? Why it’s a classic Spanish themed home built precisely in 1929. At the end of a Golden Era: The Roaring Twenties. So as I turn to closed eyes I see a boy. A young Hasidic Jewish boy. He looks around the age of eight or nine and asks me in a seemingly cute creepily voice Have you seen my family? I asked what family. The family that seems to be missing. I asked are you from around here? He says, yes I grew up here in the brown roofed house.
In recent years many manufacturing companies have exceeded the technology for residential, agriculture, construction, landscaping, forestry and engines, yet John Deere is still one of the best products that people use everyday. Questions come up whether the company’s products are proven, simple, more efficient, and integrated machines that are capable of developing engines. Some of the merchandises are strong-featured to survive the extreme vibration, temperatures, and duty cycles found in off-highway conditions. This paper will demonstrate Economic Environment, Socio-cultural Environment, Global Environment, Competitive Environment, Governmental Environment, and Technological Environment of John Deere Corporation (Leslie, 2014).
Jake watched as Miss Collins’ horse galloped through the trees and out of sight. He made an exasperated snort and slid the Winchester into the rifle scabbard. His duty was to get Duvall, and he’d start by doubling back to the dead or wounded outlaws.
The previous week they had performed the spell successfully. After contacting Mordred, Merlin and Morgana had arranged to meet him and Aglain, the leader of the druid camp, in the woods near a small waterfall, halfway between Camelot and the grave of Gorlois. Morgana always went on her annual pilgrimage to her father's tomb at this time of the year, at the end of spring.
The Story begins on a beach with three young children playing. Violet, 14, inventor; Klaus, 12, amateur researcher; and Sunny, baby, professional biter who has not totally developed speech. When they arrive to the beach it is a cloudy foggy overcast day. Violet is spending her time here skipping rocks, Klaus is studying tide pools and Sunny is just enjoying her time being at the beach with her older siblings. Even though it is not the greatest day in the world, the children are enjoying their time spent here at their favorite place. No other people are here on beach and this gives the children a place to be alone with their imagination. While playing a gentleman is approaching, but with the fog it scares the children because they cannot see who walks beneath the fog. As the figure gets closer they start to figure out who it is. The strange figure that lurked in the fog is Mr. Poe a friend of the family. Mr. Poe comes over to the children playing and explains to the children that their parents have perished in a fire that destroyed their home. Mr. Poe explains to the children that they will have to live with his family temporarily until he can figure out a plan as to where they will go.
Brock awoke to the sound of a trumpet. He was ready to get training. Brock put on his long johns, pants, shirt, coat, and hat. Then he slowly walked out of his tent. When he walked out he was greeted by Major General Wayne. He said, “Follow me i'll show you where you will be training.” Brock followed him for a about a mile until they walked into a large field with hundreds of saddled horses, and about 80 other men. Major General Wayne said,
There were once three friends Luke, Adam, and Eli. They were running for their lives from alien soldiers. They had only some food, water and a knife each. “Runnnnn they're gaining on us!” yelled Luke who was at the front. After they lost them they stopped to rest. They were in the forest of pyrex. They knew they had to get to hi valley for it was the only safe place in all the world. They were close to the place thought they just had to avoid many soldiers and bullets and then it would be a straight shot to the valley. Eli pointed to a map and said “It might be a few day stretch from here.” “But” interrupted Adam “There are soldiers everywhere that will shoot you on the spot,” luke said “We should go this way through the Spirit forest because, there is no way any soldier would go through it.” even though the voyage would take longer it was the safest way.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
A city was fast asleep as the night shrouded it. The only ones awake were those who belong to the night. A young man ran down the sidewalk, panting heavily.
Back, and forth, back, and forth I rocked on the old squeaky rocking chair out the front of my old family home. The grass was fresh and sparkly with dew. I took a shuddering breath of the crisp morning air that filled my lungs to the brim, after the war I appreciated the little things a lot more. Like the clean air that I could freely breathe and the vast expanse of crisp green grass and evergreen trees that filled my vision. I could move freely, not having to be afraid of stepping on anyone's foot in the crowded trenches.
It was a blazing summer’s day. There were many different races at this competition but they were all three legged relay races. It was time for the first race. The teams were many and all of them, save one, had a common foe - Team Human. Team human had four pairs of runners like all the other teams. The other teams were Team Hate, Team Failure, Team Stereotype and Prejudice, Team Envy and Jealousy, Team Conceit and Pride, and the list could go on and on. Their goal was to slow Human down by serving as obstacles in their lane.
This morning I wake early from the light that creeps underneath my blinds and my bed next to the window. I wake floating on the streams of light, heated, like white wax spilled across the floor, dripping, soft. In bare feet I walk down the stairs, cold on the wood, and find my father in the kitchen, also awake early. Together, we leave the house, the house that my parents built with windows like walls, windows that show the water on either side of the island. We close the door quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. We walk down the pine-needle path, through the arch of trees, the steep wooden steps to the dock nestled in the sea-weed covered rocks. We sit silently on the bench, watch as the fog evaporates from the clear water. The trees and water are a painting in muted colors, silver and grays and greenish blue, hazy white above the trees.
Slowly opening my dreaded eyes and blinking rapidly to shake off my state of unconsciousness, I peek outside of the airplane window to see where we were at. Scanning with my eyes to the top view, I could see the beautiful white miniscule stars that shines across the sky. Shifting my eyes down to the bottom, I glimpse at the vast amount of city lights that springs across the land. As I brainlessly stare through the window of the plane, I felt a slight bump on my shoulder. “Con trai, chúng tôi đang ở đây.” I glanced over my shoulder to hear the first few words my father spoke to gain consciousness upon landing in my parent’s holy majestic birthplace, Vietnam. Exhausted and excited, I replied back
I decided to tell or not to tell when i knew my friend had been cutting himself. I had decided not to tell anyone. I knew he wasn't suicidal, he had just been going through a lot of bad things at home and at school. I knew it was his way of going through the hard time. I didn't tell because i knew it wouldn't stop him, he’s doesn't even want to kill himself. I don't know why he did it.
(Talking To Myself) “What should I write about?” “ I should write about my trip to Hawaii, Nah!! that ‘s too boring” “Ooh-- I should write about Mike, that might help me get my grades up and I should probably change his name to John or something like that” “So let’s get started”