“Hopppeee,”Grace beckoned. My high school sister’s voice carried through the open screen door of our house. Even though we went to different schools, we left at the same time. My mother never trusted me to make it to my fourth grade classroom on my own, so, she left that job to my sister. In return, she got an extra dollar on her allowance each week! I am nine years old, thank you very much! There is no need to babysit me on the way to school. I know very well, not to be attracted when someone calls, “free candy,” and pulls up in a white van. Either way, mom said I have to be walked, so, there we are every day, walking, side by side, to Lincoln Elementary. But still, she is getting paid. Grace could be a bit more patient with a little weakling, like me. “Come on sis! It’s time to get to school, now!” She called again. I was about to add the line from the movie, Alice in Wonderland, “We’re late! We’re late, for a very important date!” sung by the rabbit. However, something told me that it would not have such a great turn out for me, so, the wonderful reference was locked inside my brain to use for a different time.
As I bounded down the stairs, the foul stench sifting up my nostrils told me I forgot to do something. At the bottom of the stairs, I was certain of this mistake when my mother confronted me and asked me, “Open those choppers, let me see.” My mouth opened quite slowly to ensure that she understood, that Hope Goodman does not need her mom to check her teeth every morning. “Uh, uh, uhh. Looks like someone forgot to scrub these teeth in here,” my mom chastised. My face turned a bright, peachy rose and my feet swirled around on the wood floor and raced up the steep blocks of carpet.
My mother shouted to my waiting sister ...
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... language! If your going to torture me thats fine, just please do it in English!
“Hoolllaa!” Señora Tapia greets cheerfully. I groan, at the events playing out in front of me. My reoccurring Monday nightmare comes back to haunt me yet again. Even my dad was suspicious about her, so she looked up her name. With result, he told me that her last name means “protective wall” in Spanish. This scares me because I have absolutely no understanding of what this “protective wall” could possibly protect. It is only a definition but it leaves me with an excuse to dislike Spanish class. Meanwhile, I miss the beginning of the welcome song. Señora comes over to my desk to scold me. She doesn't seem to understand that scolding someone in another language does not have much an effect. Either way, I don’t want to let off my apparently “sassy” side and mouth the words to the song.
Then she saw a greasy china plate that had bread crumbs, cheese and sausage. The pungent of cheese made her stomach grumble. The man was very rude and insulted her because she couldn’t read. Then Frances headed home and on her way, she bumped into a girl with a nice, green, winter coat. She imagined her Ma in that coat, twirling around with a smile on her face. The girl’s mother said a rather offensive sentence about Frances and walked away with her daughter.
“Our horse chestnut [tree] is in full bloom, thickly covered with leaves and much more beautiful than last year.”
The unpolished floors and graffitied lockers with pictures of the Beatles glued to them indicated to me that no summer cleaning had been done at school, for what seemed like several years. As I walked, a neatly folded piece of paper, which I placed in my pocket earlier this morning, grazed my outer thigh was not letting me forget its purpose. My palms were sweaty and all I could think of was that on the first day of school, I had decided to tell my crush that I liked her. What a stupid decision. I decided to wash my hands and then put my plan into action. My walk across the hallway continued till I reached the guy’s bathrooms. Just as I was about to push the door, it opened and out ran a blonde and petite girl. My crush. Her face was surprised and her hazel eyes were
“Hi Daisy”, Abby says while taking a seat across from me. At that moment, my jaw literally dropped, and my mouth went speechless and dry. “Daisy!” Mom snapped, giving me “The Look”. I quickly closed my mouth and said hi. As we spent a few minutes in awkward silence after I said hi, I sat there staring aimlessly into her face. I wasn’t trying to be rude but she w...
Her eyes were heavy, her body weak. As she crawled into the bathroom two feet away, Abby felt her body slowly succumbing to the numbness. All of her pain would be gone in less than 10 minutes, so why would she want to turn back? What about the senior trip Abby had planned with her best friend? What about the chair at the dinner table that would now be vacant? A couple of hours later Abby’s family came home from her little sister’s soccer game. Little did they know what they would find as they approached the top of the stairs. Her little sister, Ali, stood still as she looked down at her feet. There on the cold floor lay her big sister, her role model, and her super hero. Ali was crushed when she saw the pill bottle in her hand and the pale color of her skin. Her mom fell to her knees screaming and crying, wondering where she
Losing hope is like living in the darkness where you ignore the stars. Hope is easily lost in certain circumstances when people start to believe that the situation they are in will never improve or be in their favour . In the novel, "The Cellist of Sarajevo," the war going on results in the characters to lose all hope they have of living past this war and living in the Sarajevo they once knew and loved. Hope is crucial in order to survive the war, however, in the novel "The Cellist of Sarajevo" by Steven Galloway the characters Dragan and Kenan's hopeful side is absent.
	The poem "Peril of Hope," by Robert Frost is about having hope. The poem speaks about no matter how things are one minute they can always change. Hope, however, is constantly there and will always be there to help get through the tough times until things get better.
...nd just as fast the memories came they went. Cringing her teeth, she begins to count. “One, two, three, four, five…” As she is about to reach six she begins to feel a warm rush invade my inner skin, instantly she feels relief. It no longer mattered to her that that woman came, or that the trash was overflowing with weeks of junk mail or that she had a thirty page thesis due tomorrow. All that mattered was getting on the phone and phoning her mother, Nancy. “Mom?” says Janine.
She walks up the stairs. The house is very noisy. The music is so loud that the floor vibrates. The smoke alarm is off and the little girl is coughing and sneezing. The living room looks cloudy. “What’s burning? What is up? Whose jacket is this?” Linette asks hanging her bag. “What has come over my son, God?” She asks rhetorically looking up the ceiling. “Didn’t we discuss this before I left for Dubai?” Linette asks Brian, her eldest son who is slowly becoming a drug addict. “What are you up to this time round? What are you smoking, my dear…pot?” Linette asks as she bends to pick pieces of what looks like packaging manila. “Oh my goodness!” She pauses. “Look at what you are doing to your sister. Can’t you spare her at least?” Linette wonders as she stretches her arms to pick up Kimberly, her youngest daughter. “Mom…” Kimberly utters. “I miss you!” Kimberly says as she reaches her mother’s ears. “I know ma’am! I am back and I missed you too. How are you?” Linette asks as she looks into her daughter’s eyes. “I am hungry. I ate lunch, though!” Kimberly
I woke up to the sound of my mom calling my name. ‘’Just five more minutes,’’ I said as I pulled the covers over my head. ‘’We’re going to Yosemite.’’ my mom said. My mom finally dragged me out of bed. I trudged into the bathroom and then brushed my teeth and got dressed. ‘’Well look who got up.’’ my grandma yelled. My sister ruffled my hair. ‘’Hey bro.’’ my sister said sitting down for breakfast. I went and joined her. “Do you want cereal or french toast?” asked my grandma. “I’ll have cereal please.” I said. We all ate breakfast and packed some backpacks with waters and got on the road by 8:30. My sister sang a song I didn’t recognize. “What song is that?” I asked. “Heart of gold” she replied. “Never heard of it” I said. We pulled up to the
Hallelujah woke up from her soft cozy bed. Same time for school everyday, even on the weekends. It was a part of her routine and she was so used to it. Sleeping in on Saturdays and Sundays were very difficult. When she got up, she shivered the cold in her room hit her like a slap after doing something wrong. She looked at the brown sack that held a secret she was dying to find out but Hallelujah had to head over to Lake Michigan. She headed over to her bathroom across the hall and used the pail of water to wash her face and scrub her teeth. She used the towel hanging on the rack to pat her face, dripping with water. Hallelujah put on her Saturday outfit, a typical long sleeve shirt with a gray, long fluffy jacket and put on some pantalettes. She headed downstairs with the sack in her hand and a tissue in another. As she headed downstairs, smelled a large whiff of Miss Tilly’s scrambled eggs topped with cheddar cheese, toasted bread, shreds of bacon, a sausage link and a cup of coffee. There was a side of strawberries too.
It was a cold, dark morning when the phone rang. It was boisterously loud and the clock read six o'clock. The deafening noise jolted us again, and there was only one way to make it stop. Chris picked up the phone and in a tired, drowsy voice, answered, "Hello."
Too late. I could already hear my mothers graceful footsteps ascend the stairs. She carefully opened the door that entered my kitchen, and I flung myself into her arms. My mother yelped with shock and a hint of exhaustion, “Meggie honey, Mommy is very tired. Please be a little more careful next time.”
William Blake, born on November 28, 1757, in London is one of the greatest English poets. His work is studied today all over the world. One of Blake’s poems, “The Chimney Sweeper”, shows many signs of immortality. In this poem, immortality can only be reached by maintaining hope in a hopeless world and embracing happiness. An example of this is line 20: “He’d have God for his father, and never want joy”. Immortality is something people have chased for years and have never been able to capture. In Webster’s dictionary, immortality is stated as, “Not mortal, deathless, living or lasting forever.” In “The Chimney Sweeper”, Blake saw immortality in a different sense than Webster states. Blake saw immortality as happiness throughout life and the importance of hope.
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