Bobcats in Utah By the age of 6 we had lived in four different houses. For the time being, we were living at a house in Fruit Heights. This house was much different than any other house I had ever lived in. Since I was the youngest out of five girls, I felt it was my duty to be the rambunctious one. I never sat still. Always moving, always going. I probably had enough energy to run all the way to China and back if I could! But since that was impossible, the forest would have to suffice. Within our backyard we had a small patch of grass and a circular trampoline with blue pads. If you continued on past that there was a pathway of dirt that had two trees towering over the entrance like a garden trellis. The weeds were up to the middle of …show more content…
Smiling, I kept walking...which soon turned into sprinting. As I was sprinting down the newly found path, my 6-year-old eyes saw a tower of rocks that seemed to be screaming at me, “Climb us! Climb us!” Which is just what I did. When I reached the top of the rocks I found a cave. It wasn’t a very big cave but it was still a cave. This led me to believe it was necessary for me to enter into the cave. Reaching the mouth of the cave, I got down on my hands and knees and crawled into the dark area. But when I did I saw something that was not something a 6 year-old wanted to see. Quickly I stumbled backwards out of the cave and practically fell down the rock pile. Standing up with scrapes everywhere and leaves in my hair, I started to run back …show more content…
But I wasn’t going to have that. I grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards his bedroom door. “Alright, alright I’m coming! Calm down everything's okay,” he said. With all the strength I had, I continued to pull him towards the balcony. Upon reaching the balcony, I threw open the door and ran over to the railing pointing into the trees. He crouched down as if he was trying to see from my point of view. But when he wasn’t able to see anything, he stood up and looked higher. When he finally figured out what I was babbling about he let out a laugh that infuriated me. This was a serious topic and I couldn’t understand why he was laughing! Picking me up, he walked over to the lawn chairs - which we had put on the balcony since no one in my family likes the feeling of grass on our feet. Sitting down I was struggling to get out of his arms and he said, “Do you want to know what kind of cave that is?” No longer moving, I looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded. “It's a bobcat cave,” he said with his dark brown, almost black, eyes sparkling from the sun. I gasped. That was the coolest animal I had ever heard of. Even though I didn’t know what it was, it excited
“Strange Fruit” by Billie Holiday conveys the inhumane, gory lynchings of African-Americans in the American South, and how this highly unnatural act had entrenched itself into the society and culture of the South, almost as if it were an agricultural crop. Although the song did not originate from Holiday, her first performance of it in 1939 in New York City and successive recording of the song became highly popular for their emotional power (“Strange fruit,” 2017). The lyrics in the song highlight the contrast between the natural beauty and apparent sophistication of the agricultural South with the brutal violence of lynchings. Holiday communicates these rather disturbing lyrics through a peculiarly serene vocal delivery, accompanied by a hymn-like
He just turned and left without a word. I touched Lennie’s grave. The rough touch of the wood deflecting to my fingers. I walked back to the ranch. Everyone was asleep. I wanted to run away tomorrow but I couldn’t let this chance pass up. It also prevented any chance of Candy following me. I tiptoed out of the room and went straight to the woods. I made sure to mix myself in with the shadows of the trees. I saw the river and It felt like I did it...until I felt something grab me by my neck. I quickly got flipped over and pushed to the ground.
I continued running dodging the trees that sprung up in my path and jumping fallen logs as not to lose my lead on the Erasers who had gotten closer since my break.
I ran as if to keep up with the nothingness that surrounded me, and an empty vacuum pulled me beneath the surface. A bloody hole, when on earth did someone put a hole here? The annoying fact that a hole without my consent, had just been dug up, distracted me from the reality that I kept falling, a really long fall. Even the adrenalin was blocked out as a result of my frustration with the ‘hole’ issue.
Before I could even get one step on the wooden stairs he grabbed me by the wrist and yelled,” You should not have done that little boy.”
run as fast as I could in to the forest close by I was only four and they were telling me to run
The deconstruction of the conventions of the theatre in Anton Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard predicts the more radical obliteration presented later by Pirandello in Six Characters in Search of an Author. The seed of this attack on convention by Chekhov are the inherent flaws of all the characters in The Cherry Orchard. The lack of any character with which to identify or understand creates a portrait much closer to reality than the staged drama of Ibsen or other playwrights who came before. In recognizing the intrinsic flaws of its characters, we can see how Chekhov shows us that reality is subjective, reality is not simple, linear, or clean, and that the real benefit of theater is to show this inane, subjective reality.There are essentially three flaws that permeate over the characters of The Cherry Orchard. The obvious first flaw is nostalgia.
I ran. That’s all I could remember until, finally, the root of a tree sticking up through the ground grabbed my foot, and I went tumbling over and over, somersaulting over dead leaves and rolling down a slight incline when I hit my head upon the base of the tree itself--or maybe it was another tree. I can’t be sure.
Before I knew what was happening, I had been thrown into a dark, damp cave (mouth). A
I said, “OMG CAN WE GET DOWN AND TOUCH HIM PRETTY PLEASE”! in a screaming voice.
I turned back and looked at him then ran up the stairs. When i got upstairs, i went to Mr. Collins.
Anton Chekov's The Cherry Orchard serves as a glimpse into the lives of upper middle-class Russians at the turn of the century. The play at times seems to be a regretful account of past mistakes, but at other times it seems very comedic. The final outcome tends to classify it primarily as a tragedy with no shortage of lighthearted moments. It invokes many feelings within the reader: joy, regret, pity, and anger are all expressed among the interactions of several characters with rich and complicated personalities. The reader finds some parts of the characters appealing and some parts disgraceful. This complexity enhances the authenticity of the roles and in turn augments the reader's emotional involvement.
I began to focus on the rest of the contents that came from the bag. It held a backpack with an assortment of melee weapons, ammo, food, drink and a thing of rope. I looked around the room but began to lose hope as I saw no points of interest that could lead to an exit. I laid down and began to cry, this was the first time I had thought of my family and really questioned where I was. Why was I the only one who did not die from the explosions, why am I the only one down here? I stood up to a small tremor, then a violent shake accompanied by a molten rock shower. I had nowhere to go, the eruption had come from across the cavern but the molten rock was crawling its way slowly towards me. I was stuck between a wall and the little bit of water left in the room I had only one option. I was with my family when I saw them coming, hundreds of fiery streaks shooting out of the sky landing all over our city, making large flashes when meeting with the ground. We began to run for the underground tunnels dodging fallen trees and ruined building until was saw it, no more than a hundred meters away but we were too late. The gate was obliterated by a tall oak tree, we began to search for any other possible escape and that was when we saw it. A ominous cavern in the side of a hill. “That wasn’t always there was it?” I yelled. She replied “No, but that is our best option right now.” We each went to grab a kid but we couldn’t, they were in a better place. We began to run not looking back at the horrible scene we had just witnessed. Once inside way began to weep with the image of our children's bodies gone, replaced by a smoking crater. We knew they would find us here, I pulled out my 9mm and gave it to my wife and she nodded, put it to her head, and pulled the trigger. I awoke in the cold cavern, water splashing me in the face as I came to. They were the lucky ones, I
It was the second semester of fourth grade year. My parents had recently bought a new house in a nice quite neighborhood. I was ecstatic I always wanted to move to a new house. I was tired of my old home since I had already explored every corner, nook, and cranny. The moment I realized I would have to leave my old friends behind was one of the most devastating moments of my life. I didn’t want to switch schools and make new friends. Yet at the same time was an interesting new experience.
After just two hours, our very large friend said he’d had enough for the day and was heading for the surface. We told him we’d be out in a few more minutes and to hang around so we could discuss what we’d found. As we began our ascent toward the entrance, we became acutely aware of the complete absence of light the entrance usually emanated. When our flashlights finally found the source of the unusual darkness we were horrified; the big guy was stuck in the cave’s opening again. This time Scott’s head and shoulders were outside, so instead of being able to pull him through, we would have to try to push him out of the opening. We pushed in every combination of ways possible, and needless to say it did not work this time. The paramount problem was that the cave floods from the interior out, so we would all drown if we couldn’t get Scott unstuck, and unstuck quickly.