A Helpless Prisoner
I stuffed my hand into my pocket, hoping to find my car key as I darted down the trail. Tears stung my eyes as I ran on my sprained ankle. My vision was blurred to the point that I scraped my leg on a large rock, and my leg started to bleed. I felt the jagged metal key in my pocket, and quickly pulled it out. When I reached my car, I pulled the door open. I shoved the key into the ignition and threw my backpack in the passenger seat. I started the car and slammed my foot on the pedal. Wind whipped my hair in every direction as I sped down the small dirt road in my convertible. After an hour of driving in the middle of nowhere, I made it to a small town. I passed a sign that said “Starcrest city limits.” As I was speeding down the road, I saw the police station I had passed while driving out of town this morning. I cut the wheel left and slid into the parking lot of the Starcrest City Police Department. I practically jumped out of my car into the police department.
…show more content…
I frantically started speaking about what I had seen. “Calm down! Let’s start off with your name,” said the blonde haired woman. “I’m L-L-Lucy Vink,” I stuttered. “I need an ambulance immediately.” “Settle down. Where does the ambulance need to be sent?” “The Peralta Trail in the Superstition Mountains. A woman was stabbed, but I don’t know her name.” “I will send an ambulance, but in the meanwhile, you need to speak to sheriff.” I took a seat at one of the benches while the blonde lady went to send the ambulance and look for the sheriff. Seconds later, she came back with a tall man walking behind her. I walked over to him, but before I could speak, he said, “Follow me.” As I followed him down a hallway, I heard him mumbling to himself. He had an extremely deep voice, but his mumbling was slightly comforting in an odd
. I applied to graduate school with the long term goal of working in a correctional facility. A childhood friend of mine was arrested and sent to prison in August 2007. I saw him four years after his incarceration. These four years definitely took a toll on his physical appearance and his way of thinking. He is 25 and has the looks of a young person whose youth has been wasted. As I sat with him, I had high hopes of being able to laugh out loud while reminiscing about the past. However, I became upset and tears of sadness trickled down my face. He confided to me thoughts of suicide. He explained to me in prison terminology or street talk, one must never drop the soap. I sobbed as he continued to talk about his sentence. At times, his words
It's dark out. The street remains quiet and the sounds of the city have faded. A woman walking down the street crosses, her heels thumping against the sidewalk. As she walks further into the night she feels a presence upon her. Suddenly the worries of the day have escaped her mind. All she can think about was the increasing echo of heavy footsteps behind her. Heart beating, she skips along the street, heels thumping with every step. She reaches a stoplight, and her heels come skidding to a stop. Her chest is aching and she's beginning to accept her fate, when, the man steps into the light with her. At first she looks away, praying that he won’t choose her as his next victim. As the seconds vanish, she decides to turn, to take a peek at the man breathing quietly beside her. Her brown hair whips around her shoulder and she clutches her handbag studying the man. It was difficult to make out his face in the poorly lit corner, but as she examined him she took note of his shiny blue eyes and light complexion. Without delay, her shoulders relax, and she releases the tight grip
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
It was a beautiful night. It was perfect for a walk. As I strolled further into the park a figure approached me. It was as dark as pitch so I couldn’t make out who it was. It was late; you wouldn’t usually see anyone at this time. My heart was beating faster and faster. The strange thing was I wasn’t frightened; it was just my heart beating rapidly. As the masculine figure approached, I began to walk slower. That was when I heard the voice.
I remember when I used to be normal. I still worked at the hospital and I enjoyed it. My daughter Sara, who was two, had beautiful blue eyes, just started speaking and playing like every other kid in the world. My wife Katie loved Sara and me. It’s all gone now, it killed them, it controlled me, I killed them.
Disappointment, disbelief and fear filled my mind as I lye on my side, sandwiched between the cold, soft dirt and the hot, slick metal of the car. The weight of the car pressed down on the lower half of my body with monster force. It did not hurt, my body was numb. All I could feel was the car hood's mass stamping my body father and farther into the ground. My lungs felt pinched shut and air would neither enter nor escape them. My mind was buzzing. What had just happened? In the distance, on that cursed road, I saw cars driving by completely unaware of what happened, how I felt. I tried to yell but my voice was unheard. All I could do was wait. Wait for someone to help me or wait to die.
A bright sunny spring day, the bus lane in filled with a bunch of bright yellow buses.”Bye” I said to my friend as I walk onto the load noisy bus. Walking to my seat trying not to bump my violin into anything. I get to my seat near the back of the bus. I set down my violin first than my backpack leaving me barely any space to sit. I get up a bit from my seat to look through the window cause my violin case was in my way. After what seemed like forever I open my fairly new backpack to get my phone because of my lack of entertainment. One problem, my phone wasn’t there.
Thumbs Out A girlfriend of mine once defended me to her father by saying, calmly, “Not everyone who wanders is lost.” The dad kicked me out of the house anyway. But the damage had been done. Not everyone who wanders is lost.
I'm one who when people tell me I can't do it, I prove them wrong. I'm one who is always looking to be challenged. It's similar, but not quite the same. I can appreciate what you're saying.
In the year of 2010 around 11:00AM on a bright and sunny summer morning and not a cloud in the sky, you could hear birds chirping and feel the wind blowing, I was planning on swimming in my clear heated pool in my backyard with colorful lights on the inside, it was planned to be the perfect day. Little did I know I was not going to be the only one swimming.
I still remember that day, that everything had changed for me within seconds. On June 12, 2012 my dad had a heart attack with blockages in his lungs. My mom, my brother and I were in a total shock, my dad had just fell to the ground with white foaming stuff coming out of his mouth. We didn’t know what was happening to him and were very frighten. My mom rushed to the phone to call 911 so that they would send help. My brother and I on each side holding our dad’s hand tightly; having the feeling that we have loss him forever. In that moment, I could see each one of our hearts dropping on to the point where there was no hope left at all. As we were around him tears were just falling out of ur eyes, as if there was rain falling down from the
The woman I’m married to is sitting in the office reading. I can see her face glowing from the light of our new tablet. The familiar face I’ve known for the better part of my life. I watch her blink those big, green eyes, then swipe left to turn the page. As she does so, I see the screen flicker on her face. It illuminates her long, luscious blonde hair and protruding cheekbones. She has her toned, tan legs extended onto the brown, suede chaise lounge we bought just last week. She notices me watching from the hallway. She smiles, then goes right back to reading. Should I tell her? I can’t, for the life of me, decide. Part of me feels like she has the right to know, while part wants everything to stay how it is- perfect.
The first, and only so far, time I've been grounded was in fourth grade. I had been staying after school with a friend, Cheyenne. We wouldn’t do much, just talk for a while and then walk home. The thing was, I would take an hour getting home. My mom, of course, was very suspicious. I usually had an excuse along the lines of “Oh I was helping a teacher with something” or “Oh I went to the library to look for a book” or “Oh I walked home with a girl”. After a week, these excuses were getting old, really old. I didn’t know any new ones either, so my mom evidently found me out.
Have you ever been scared for the safety of a complete stranger? Have you changed somebody’s outlook on life just by being a Good Samaritan? Well, I have. It was a late Thursday night and I was in a bad part of town informally known as “The Knob.” I had been at a friend's house when we decided to leave to find somewhere to eat. On the way, my friend got a call from his mom telling him he had to be home. His house wasn’t really out of the way. As I pulled down Belle Avenue, towards his house, another friend of mine shouts out “Hey, pull over that guy just knocked that girl out” I instantly questioned this absurd accusation. “What? You’re joking.” As I turned around I noticed that he certainly wasn’t as I saw a middle-aged lady facedown on the pavement. Without hesitation I parked the car and we all ran over to see what was going on. You could see in the distance a man in an orange hooded jacket fleeing the scene. My friend attempted to wake this lady up. She was out cold. At this point each one of us had no idea what we should do. Obviously, the first thing we should have done was call the police, but let me remind you this was a bad part of town and didn’t know if we would be the next. Tommy, my friend, the nearest house and knocked on the door. A trashy looking man answered the door. After being informed that there was an unconscious lady in front of his house he scurried to her aid. The man then realized it was a good friend of his. Jane was her name. You could sense his anger and concern for this lady. He began to frantically ask questions. Who, what, when, where, why, how and every other sort of interrogation question was thrown our way. We described her assailant and which way he went. Evidently it was her boyfriend. At this ...
It was dark that night, I was nervous that this dreadful day was going to get worse. Sunday, October 23, 1998 I wanted to start writing this to tell about the weird things i’m starting to see in this new neighborhood. Gradually I keep seeing pots and pans on the sink suddenly move to the floor. I would ask my sister but she is out with my mom and dad getting the Halloween costumes. When they got home I didn’t tell them what I saw because i've seen Halloween movies and I have to have dissimulation otherwise the ghost will come out and get me first. October 24, 1998 I think I got a little nervous yesterday with the whole ghost thing. 12:32pm, Went to eat lunch with the family today and I go to get my coat. I heard the words furious and madness,