Scene 1: I’m part way through my freshman year of high school. Something is wrong with me. I don’t know what I feel, but I just want to cry. I just got off the bus and am sitting in my room on the floor. After a few weeks of holding back tears from an unknown cause, I finally let them glide down my cheeks and into my lap, hoping to reveal why I’m even crying in the first place. Maybe it’s because I’m stressed. My heart feels heavy and my ribs tight around my lungs. I sit on the soft carpet for who knows how long, letting myself think and feel until I hear my mom calling me for dinner. I wash my tear-stained face and put concealer around my pink nose and swollen eyes. Scene 2: It’s the ninth period and I’m in the bathroom again. I always feel …show more content…
I wish I could just get it over with, but I’m too afraid of germs to stick my fingers down my throat. My hair tied up, I wait for my name to be called on the speakers, anticipating another detention. Scene 3: Mom asked if I was okay today. Ever since I first let myself cry, I haven’t been able to stop whenever I find myself alone with the tightness in my chest. I almost cried that very second. I wish I could tell her what I’m feeling. She deserves to know that. But I can never put it into words. I’ve always had a weird intuition about what was going to happen next in my life, but for some reason, I can no longer imagine my own future. Like I won’t even make it there. Scene 4: It’s probably around noon in the morning. I wouldn’t know if that happened. I’m sitting on a hospital bed with a needle taped into my arm, right above the aggravated array of lines and splotches. My parents are sitting in the two chairs on the side of the cramped room with their heads in their …show more content…
I sit in silence on the ride home while my parents report to the staff for their threats and deceit. Glad I could make them a little extra money. Scene 5: I’m sitting in the office in front of the suspension slip on the principal’s desk. Again, I wasn’t careful enough in hiding my habits. Once my parents find out that I’ve been using it, they’ll take everything away. I know I don't have the strength to tell them why I was carrying it in the first place. For the first time, my heart doesn’t tighten with anxiety. I think I might have enough reasons now. Scene 6: It’s early April. School is almost over but I can’t see that helping my situation. I’m in my room with the window open. It’s still quite cold so the birds have yet to come out but the mourning doves stay here year round, hooting into the night air. I’m fidgeting with the pen in my hand, thinking about what to write. I never understood goodbyes. What does goodbye even mean? They already know I love them, so what else should I write? I could write my feelings, but there aren’t many left. Though I love my family, I can’t help but wonder how superficial they’ll be after death. Scene 7: It’s summer! I don’t remember much about
As a result of what happens, Garys perspective of life and people of the Port changes.
The novel Deadly Unna? explores many themes; discuss which theme you feel is most strongly focussed upon. Use examples from the novel to support your argument.
My feet planted firm on the ground as I bit the inside of my cheeks to feel something. My pigtails and gray uniform forgotten along with my surroundings as I just watched death do his work. I didn’t feel like a kid anymore. The once peaceful scene turned into a mass of chaotic moments as soon as metal clashed on metal, and the remains of glass littered the floor of the street in front of the fenced gates of my school. My peers screamed loudly but the sound of the crash replayed in my head, but worst of all is that I saw the blond hair of the woman cover her face like a veil tainted red. My teacher ushered us to wait inside yet my mind was numb and my thoughts blurred as I heard the cries of the adults.
Bora's POV "Ah Bora unnie. " Soyou stuttered. "Where is she?" You say as you rushed into the apartment.
This could just be the worst day of my life; I’ve been dreading this day for the past few months. Moving day; it was just five months ago when my family told me the awful news. I just recently finished my sophomore year in high school, became captain of the varsity basketball team and finally got the girl of my dreams, Julie. Only to have it ruined by my parents telling me that we have to move due to my father getting a new job in Astoria, Oregon. The house or ‘cemetery’ as I referred to it is called Mors Thalamum, which ironically means death chamber in Latin; how convenient I would jest my family in hopes they would change their minds. Before we had to get into the car and leave for what I though would be certain doom I walked over to Julie’s house which was right across the street. “Hey Julie” I said for what would feel like the last time, “Hey Ben” she said, I believe she was feeling the exact thing I was. “I came to say goodbye, my family and I are leaving soon.” “Oh” she said simply but her green eyes said what she couldn’t. “Ben lets go!” I groaned at my father demand. Just as I was turning around Julie called my name, “I’ll miss you Ben” “Ill miss you too Julie” I choked back too focused on trying to hide the tears in my brown eyes. “Do you think we will ever see each other again?” she asked with anticipation in her angelic yet worried voice, “I hope” was all I could say before I turned and left my blonde green-eyed girl for what felt would be the last time.
Tears streaming down my face, I kept walking ahead wherever my small, roughed up feet would take me unaware of the consequences of doing so. I felt tears roll off of my cheeks slowly, and then all at once. My shirt was wet and cold because of the salt filled tears, my nose was runny and I used my Winnie the Pooh hanky to wipe the snot away. Within seconds, my nose felt irritated despite the soft, microfiber of the handkerchief and my hands were tired. My vision became really cloudy and I could barely see where I was going. At this point, I had lost all hope and my heart felt heavy, pushing me down with every hurtful step I took. I wanted to sit down and wait for my parents to come to me themselves, so I did. I sat down next to the gate to one of the other rides and waited for what I thought was years of time. I remember getting strange looks from people, as they walked by and I kept wondering why. The ground I was sitting on was unwelcoming, rough, and littered. My pants would definitely need to take a spin in the laundry. Mom wouldn’t be too happy about this, not just the fact that my parents had forgotten me and left me to venture out into the world solitary but also the fact that my clothes were dirty and I had generally made a mess of
The night before, I didn’t practice my English so I knew what to say. By now, I knew most of the words, so I would just let my heart guide me. Besides, my cramped old house, which is actually just a junky garage in an abandoned alley, is too small to let out my feelings. Once I got to school after a cold walk in the snow, I placed myself by her locker and waited. Fourteen minutes had gone by, and still no sign of Lily. I only had a minute to get to class now, so I hurriedly collected myself and ran to my locker. I was disappointed, knowing that without Lily here, it would be the hardest day of school. I opened my locker and to my surprise a note fell to the floor. I quickly picked it up and gazed at the neat handwriting that clearly spelled my name.
I was born in Montgomery, Alabama in 1935. I was just a day old when my mother and father dropped me off at grandma’s house and never came back. Grandma Rosa said that my father had gambling problems my mother was on and off drugs. Sometimes, grandma said that my mother asked her for money when she was running away from my father because he was abusive. But I wouldn’t know where I would be if my parents would have taken care of me. My parents did not name me so, my grandmother named me after her great grandmother Leslie. The only memory of my mother is her pocket watch that fell out of her purse that day. I’ve been living with my grandmother for ten years. I’m very sure my parents are not coming back. Everyday as soon as I wake up I use the pocket watch. Using it every time I always wonder what it would be like seeing my parent’s faces. My grandmother said to me that everything happens for a reason maybe my parents leaving was for me to live. At school when the kids get out of the schoolhouse they say “don’t step on a crack”. I believe in that ,but it does not apply to me. Just started fifth grade at Frederick Douglas Elementary School. It’s my first year at this school. I can say that it’s a step up from Harriet Tubman Elementary. All the kids in that 4th grade classroom threw crayons and
Letters are written and sent to an anonymous recipient from Charlie, and the content is his innermost thoughts, feelings and experiences. He explains he anticipates his high school years will be difficult, but has made a plan to visualize his last day of senior year. Charlie expresses an
As I walked into school, I could hear my mother’s voice start the routine that occurred every weekday at 2:21; when I got off the bus. “How was your day at school?” she asked, sitting at the table, with the mail and bills spread around her. “Good!
We walked into St. Mary’s Hospital in Saginaw. Then we walked into an elevator. I wanted this to have never happened, I just wanted to wake up. I don't know what to do, is what I said to myself as the doors slowly shut. We walked to his hospital room. As we walked in we were quiet. We walked up to his bed and I will never be able to erase what I saw because it is carved into the back of my brain. I saw my dad in a hospital bed and just looking at him made me want to cry and vomit at the same time. I just stared at him as if I were a zombie or statue. Then I started to cry and cry and cry. I couldn't stop crying. I was so upset with all that was going on. After about 30 minutes of me balling my eyes out we left. Maximus and I spent the rest of the weekend at our grandparents house. On monday we go to school like any other
He had been there for long as I could remember. He always stood in the corner of my room, his cloak merged in with the darkness around him. I tried to get closer to him numerous times, but he was always so far away, no matter how many steps I took. When I told my dad about him, he just shot me a look of disgust, the same one he gave to the homeless when he passed them on the streets. When I was around three, I started to get more curious.
Leaving the house was exhausting; my life in the outside world was a consistent stressor. It left me reeling, unstable. I suppose I was waiting to grow out of it. In school, conversations plagued me. I’d spend my waking moments asking why, why, why, and my nights cringing at all my past interactions: stupid, stupid, stupid.
My stomach weakens with a thought that something is wrong, what would be the answer I could have never been ready for. I call my best friend late one night, for some reason she is the only person’s voice I wanted to hear, the only person who I wanted to tell me that everything will be okay. She answer’s the phone and tells me she loves me, as I hear the tears leak through, I ask her what is wrong. The flood gates open with only the horrid words “I can’t do this anymore”. My heart races as I tell her that I am on my way, what I was about to see will never leave my thoughts.
It was finally the first day of school; I was excited yet nervous. I hoped I would be able to make new friends. The first time I saw the schools name I thought it was the strangest name I’ve ever heard or read, therefore I found it hard to pronounce it in the beginning. The schools’ floors had painted black paw prints, which stood out on the white tiled floor. Once you walk through the doors the office is to the right. The office seemed a bit cramped, since it had so many rooms in such a small area. In the office I meet with a really nice, sweet secretary who helped me register into the school, giving me a small tour of the school, also helping me find