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Night
Night
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“Fuck me in the ass” you yelled. It was 7:14 am and that was the time your school bus came, so you frantically ran around your house trying to get ready for school. You threw on some clothes and tried to make your hair look as decent as possible, but you still looked like a washed up beach whale. you frantically ran around your house trying to get your things for school. You knew that if you were late to class again you would have night detention. Night detention was some type of cruel and unusual punishment created by the teachers. It forced students to come to school and stay from 6pm to 7:30pm. The whole idea of it made you groan. It was late November and you knew that sun went down at 4:30p.m. You ran out your house and grabbed your …show more content…
You put on a nice dress and cardigan before walking out your house. You Lived in an area where it wasn’t really cold. You walked out your house and got on your bike. It was dark and you rode through a sketchy area. It was bad enough to get kidnapped in broad daylight, but it was the fastest way to your school. The time was 5:40pm and you took your time enjoying the scenery of graffiti. To your luck there was nobody outside; this always made you happy because the people in this neighborhood were really intimidating, so you always tried to block them out from your head as you rode through. You were halfway down the street until you heard a scream from alleyway closest to you. Slowly and quietly you rode past trying to see what was happening. Your eyes widening at the sight in front of you. The scene of a man hovering over somebody’s limp body slowly tearing the person apart like a hungry wolf. The man or THING was was pale and skinny. You looked a little longer to notice the mans unusual hair color. “No” you whispered to yourself. The man had hair as orange a pumpkin. “Doyoung” you blurted out; you quickly covered your mouth knowing that your mistake could cost you your life. He looked up at you. Your eyes widened in shock and fear. You must be crazy you though to yourself. Right in front of you; your best friend stood covered in blood. His eyes were a deep red and his teeth had fangs. He slowly walked to you, but you hightailed your way to
“Ponyboy run for it!”,I yell to him David chasing after him,and pony doged there first atemt then he was caught both arms twisted behind his back and legs gripped by the arms of two socs while they hadnt caught me yet,I was still running.The socs broght pony boy to bob and he pointed tweords the fountain with no hesitation and with that pony boy was head first drowning in a fountain of freezing cold water.As I was runnning from the socs I saw ponyboy as blue as a blue berry trying to hold his breath in.”I can t see this,I need to do somthing” I cryed.It was then that I rememberd I had thatswisarmy knife in my back pocket but I felt Heroism Revenge and Rushed for time but I also felt Question,confused and disbelefe.Eiether way I had to even thought I would be a murderer.With that I Stabed Bob in the heart and he slowly fell to the ground and then colapst onto the cold pavment.
As I walk to the store to pick up snacks for the next half of the super bowl, I am trying to make it quick. I finally arrive at the store and quickly get my two favorite items, skittles and an ice tea. Thinking to myself that this is all I need, not knowing that it would be my last meal. On the walk back home, I have a feeling that I am being followed. I speed up. I turn around to find that a grown Hispanic man, mid-age, and heavily built is in fact, following me. In my head, I just want to make it home safely. Every move I make, he makes the same moves. Finally I turn around, quite nervous, to see if there was a problem. Next thing I know, we are on the ground fighting. Here I am, seventeen years old, up against a man in his thirties. As we fight, I know that this situation isn’t going to end well. Last thing I remember is being shot in my stomach. While I lay in the grass taking my last breaths, all I could think is “Why me”?
I. Intro. - Imagine you are sitting home one night with nothing to do. Your parents have gone away for the weekend and there is absolutely no one around. So you sit around that night watching TV for awhile but find nothing on worth watching. You go on upstairs to your room and get ready for bed. Turn off the lights, lay down, and close your eyes. All of a sudden you here a crash of glass in your kitchen. You rush to your feet and put your ear to the door listening to what’s going on downstairs. You begin to hear the voice of two men as they start going through the living room, making their way to the stairs, right outside your room. What do you do? You aren’t going to confront them since its just you—remember you thought you heard two of them right? Well you are really stuck in your room and all you can do is sit there hoping that they leave soon and don’t harm you. Now if it were at my house things would be a little bit different. For starters I would get out my shotgun from my closet and begin to see what is gin on down stairs.
There was a warm breeze, the sun was shinning, and it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. As I briskly walked to the auditorium my heart was racing with nerves. Today was the first day I would have the opportunity to go and mentoring some of the young women at the Richard L. Bean Juvenile Detention Center in Knoxville, TN. Ever since I found out this program was available I was more than eager to go and make a difference.
“Go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.” It’s the most unfortunate and inconvenient rule in the book, triggering paralysis while the other players are free to use their $200 to taunt you while “just visiting” you in the slammer.
. 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
Ok. One night my sister and I were at my father’s house. He lives in Kingsville on 10 maybe 9 acres of land in this [small pause, looks at ceiling] I wouldn’t really call it a farmhouse, just a kind of small house out there. The previous person who lived in the house was supposedly shipped to an asylum, for, you know, normal stuff [pause] schizophrenic or something. My sister and I were at the house one night and we were cleaning up the house while my dad was on some sort of job out of the state and my step mom was at work in the hospital. We were doing our stuff, and then the power flickered, and came back on. We didn’t think anything of it. Then, outside of the door, we heard a noise, kinda like a dog barking, but like, just enough not so that we knew it wasn’t. So, we hear this noise, and start to get fre...
Kneeling on my apartment floor, I held the phone up against my ear and frantically cried for help. She laid in a puddle of blood with one of her wrists slit open. I screamed her name and begged her to stay awake. The paramedics barged through the door and lifted her on the gurney, while I remained on the floor in a complete state of shock. My roommate had just tried to end her life. Police officers bombarded me with questions, but I struggled to answer them because all I could do was continuously replay the event in my head. After I finally managed to explain my side of the story to the authorities, one of the officers accompanied me to the hospital where I sat by my roommate’s side awaiting her parents’ arrival.
Those blocks (block, block, block) in just plain gray (gray, gray, gray): the perfect surroundings to leave one's mind blank... or insane.
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.
It was just a normal day. I was living at home with only me, John, and my mom. My dad had died trying to protect the village from a wild animal from the forest. My mom wanted me to go to the market and get some food. So I did. As I made it to the market I could see all of the things being traded. I went to were the food was being traded and traded some stuff for some food. As returned home I noticed a couple of strange voices I didn’t notice. I walked into the house. It got dead silent. Then all last I heard were gunshots until everything went black.
These personality traits, shy, a night owl, and picky describe who I am. Firstly I am shy, not very gregarious. For example I’m not a very social person. I dislike being in crowded places. I like and feel more comfortable being quiet. Sometimes I come off as rude because I don’t say “hi” or “how are you” to people. I feel uncomfortable talking to people especially if I don’t know them. Secondly I’m a night owl. For instance I enjoy staying up late until 3 a.m. it makes me happy. I love night life seems more fun and at peace. I live for going at night it gives me serenity. I do my shopping mostly in the nights because its less crowded and more exciting like an adventure.
Sitting here all alone where I was placed for good, watching all the different types of cars enter the parking lot, wondering if they have noticed me on the dirt surrounded by all the colorful and different types of wildlife. Scattered patches of green grass mixed with some unhealthy brown ones are pushing its way out from the ground. I have only one friend, but no family that I know of, I can't talk to my friend, but the reason why I call him a friend is because he is in the same situation as I am despite the fact he has a total different shape and design than me, having the letter P on top while the two Cs? underneath connecting each other and is standing on one tall skinny leg they have given him. Not much excitement ever happens around here except I am always afraid one day a tree which surrounds the area where I live fall on me due to strong wind. At some point of the day, a bird lands on me as it chirps to his friends- calling them to play. After the little get-together they have, the birds? kindly leave a little white spot on my brown polished smooth coating. However, I do not mind their little droppings they leave on me only to give me extra color on my boring brown, chipped up skin. It is almost the fall season and already I am covered in dead, dried up, and crackling leaves, hence, reminding me of the good old days. At random on a cheerful sunny day, a creature who presented himself as a human being approached me. Had his right hand to his ear talking into a black brick, for some reason why- he probably had no one to talk to- he then was holding it, pointing the strange looking black brick straight at me saying ?you?re going to be my homework for today? then added ?COMMUNITY COLLEGE? as he put back the black brick into his ear and started again with the talking, leaving large foot steps as he walked away. Yet, those words, ?COMMUNITY COLLEGE? kept echoing in my ears with his voice, realizing what was carved with a lighter and brighter brown color into my body after being chopped down and cut into a rectangular shape with smooth edges and two stiff legs.
It was a gloomy Tuesday despite the fact that it was late August. I had missed the first day of school because I always hated the idea of introductions and forced social situations during those times. I hated my particular school ever since I started as a freshman the
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 ...