With the left eye now open and almost seeing clearly, Lily began working on the right. Gently putting her finger on it she cringed in pain and could tell it was raw and swollen. "The blunt force of his fist to my eye socket must have burst open every capillary I have because it is causing some severe hemorrhaging," she whispered softly, then laughed out loud. “I can't believe I not only know those words, but I fricking know what they mean,” she said with a hint of proud. “God bless Google.”Calming down from feeling so delighted in finding something so funny in something so repeatedly horrible, she looked around the room with her one good eye. She knew she was in her room and lying in her bed, but she wanted to know what needed to be replaced or fixed since her belongings usually got caught in the crossfire or aftershock. Mirrors were all intact so no seven years of bad luck, she thought and became delighted again. “Thank God, how much more bad luck can I endure?” she asked herself and continued assessing. It didn't seem like any dressers needed repair, or that she needed to hold another Teddy Bear funeral (A ritual of standing above her, and ripping apart a childhood memory was not an every fight occurrence, but a satisfying one for Rick when performed). Not wanting to hold her breath, but it actually gave her hope that maybe the kitchen and living room fared as well. Noticing it was dark past the window Lily leaned out from the bed to peek outside, where she saw it was still dark. Turning towards the alarm clock trying to ignore the sharp pain in her neck she saw the obscured red digital lights. Not giving her any clue of the time since they just sat there on her clock like a big fat red blur, she decided she had no choice but to... ... middle of paper ... ...it was. That was the start of the argument, she remembered recalling Rick yelling that she should be home with him and not with those two “Fags”, as he liked to call them. Lily thought Todd would probably get Martin to finally shoot Rick if she didn't leave him this time. And, since Martin served in the Marines and actually kept a gun in the store, he just might. Then, she got off topic thinking how hot Martin would look in his Marine Uniform and it was too bad that he was gay. Of course, Todd ruined it since she could only imagine the weird role-playing games Todd would want to use the Marines uniform for and her sexy Marine distraction became a creepy Todd thing complete with cheesy dialogue. Chuckling she stared at the doorway to the bathroom then sighed since it seemed so very far away. “Come on Lily,” she cheered and began her painful shuffle to self-assessment.
The article, “Girl Moved To Tears By 'Of Mice And Men' Cliffs Notes,” published by The Onion, argues through its satire that people shouldn’t cry over the dry, analyzed parts like the summaries and that they should read the book instead. The type of satire used to develop the thesis is horatian and a satirical device used to develop the thesis is irony. The article is filled with verbal irony with direct quotes from Weaver like “‘I never wanted the synopsis to end’” and from her professor that said, “this was not the first time one of his students has expressed interest in the novel’s plot summary.” The target of the satire are students who read summaries rather than the entire book and the purpose is to encourage students to read the book rather than Cliff Notes to get all the information. The opposing argument is that sources like Sparknotes and Cliff Notes can actually help a student if they don’t understand something they just read or if they are under a time crunch.
“Straining his eyes, he saw the lean figure of General Zaroff. Then... everything went dark. Maggie woke up in her bed. “Finally woke up from that nightmare. Man… I miss my brother. Who was that person that my brother wanted to kill?” she looks at the clock and its 9:15am “Crap I’m late for work!” Maggie got in her car and drove to the hospital for work.
Although they seem to be arguing about something trivial like lemons, there are much bigger issues that begin to surface. Throughout this paper, I will show how this scene is a perfect display of how a combination of passive aggressive behavior, disconfirming messages, and a defensive and unsupportive communication climate led to a complete breakdown of this couple’s relationship. They both throw in all different types of issues and past arguments that have never been resolved. Brooke attacks Gary for never taking her to the ballet, for playing too many video games, and for the lack of novelty in their relationship.
... the fact that they are gay and Lily is their adopted daughter, therefore using conversation over conformity as a tactic to deal with adoption questions. They avoided family communication patterns such as protective and laissez-faire types that would put Lily at risk of having adjustment problems.
Hollow eyes glanced around the pristine apartment, the gray scale color scheme seems to match the women clasping her hands together, pursing her lips and searching for approval from the girl that stood in the doorway. Automatically, the girl deduced the woman was quite wealthy, especially in the neighborhood she'd now live in. The streets were busier, filled with nicer cars instead of busted ones without their fenders falling apart at the edge. Her nimble fingers explored the wall as she took careful steps into the living room. Winnie wasn't acclimated to this life style: the wallpaper wasn't being striped at the corners, stainless carpets without nothing questionable left behind, no sign of undesirable critters, and silence. She could finally
Suddenly her bed was empty. Her room was empty. The nametag on her door was gone. Annie slept most of the weekend and, one day, just didn’t wake up. She was gone. I was shattered. ================
She was surprised to find cabinets full of food, what seemed like an endless supply of fire wood, water and in the back room a very plush looking bed. She wished then that she would have had her wits about her enough to pass out on the bed instead of the rug pile. She ran her fingers across the mantle of the fireplace which seemed as natural a thing for her to do as breathing. The moment that her finger tips reached the end of the mantle piece, Hazel heard a small popping noise and noticed that one of the bricks above the mantle had fallen out of
Killinger’s eyes darted across the room, still recuperating from the grogginess of his swelling pain, burning with a red tint of anguish. The black and white crackle of the T.V buzzed in the corner of the room. A crooked mirror etched over the nearby wall. Clothing was spewn across the room, almost as if someone had been desperately packing for a quick getaway. It was all too quiet, but the faint murmur of cascading water could be heard behind the bathroom door.
Allison Vandemore looked back one last time at the dilapidated weekly rental as she pulled a dark strand of hair behind her round ear. How it looked even less livable than what it had ten short months before, she wasn’t sure. Still, she was certain a small part of her would cherish the time spent in the duplex style apartment. Although she was ecstatic this chapter of her life was finally over. The rotten siding, broken window panes, as well as the sagging roof with patches of missing shingles, felt like home. It’s the only real home I’ve known, she thought pressing her lips thin and nodding to herself.
...e red lady blows a light, grayish puff of smoke in my direction and my eyes begin to twitch. My two brown eyelids flutter awake, and I slowly become aware of my surroundings. It is a late night in the city, and I can hear the streetlight buzzing above me. I roll onto my stomach and find the little girl in the same state as I had earlier, coughing incessantly. My stomach growls, and the car tires circle rhythmically on the warm, wet pavement. I awake from one nightmare, and continue to combat the real struggles in my life.
“We played The Soul Game today.” Her words hit me like a wrecking ball. “What’s the soul game?” her head was like a spinning chair, for she couldn’t keep her gaze. Her amber eyes darted all over the car, and sweat beaded from her brows. “I said no thank you, but she told me we wouldn’t be friends anymore if I didn’t!” a tear ran down her cheek. “WHAT. IS. THE. SOUL. GAME. TELL. ME. CHILD.” I turned off the car. “I cant tell you, the rules are so horrible! I cant!” she screamed. “Well will Violet tell me?” the look on Alyssa’s face was pure torture towards me. No one ever wants their child to appear so angry and frustrated. “NO!!” she squealed, scaring me, and making my blood run cold. “DON’T ASK HER. PLEASE. DON’T!” I opened my car door, confused and frightened. “PROMISE ME MOM!” I shut the door, heading towards her side where she was going ballistic. She was bawling, terrified. I opened her door and took her in my arms, and rocked her the way I used to when she was little, and had a bad dream. She fell asleep there, and I calmly took her to her room and laid her in her bed. Maybe sleep would make her
All of my life, until I was eighteen years old, I didn’t understand the concept of grieving. Grief just hasn’t been something I’ve ever had to experience before. Because of my lack of experience I had no understanding of what grieving felt like. All of his changed for me on July 29th.
Roslyn groaned piteously. Maybe if she just waited a little longer the sun would go away and leave her alone. Wait... Roslyn thought. There was something wrong with that idea... What was... "Oh shit!" Roslyn sat up, throwing the blanket off of her. She blinked, dazed by the light and tried to get her head to stop spinning and her eyes to focus. She was lying on the sofa under a blanket. She cast her eyes around her until she found her phone on the coffee table. She grabbed at it, missed, then sat up with her feet on the floor and leaned forward to grab it. In leaning forward, she threw up in her
The dark and dingy room swayed before his bloodshot eyes, he had not been sleeping for days. The trees outside shook in the strong wind as though their arms were waving helplessly. The cracked glass in the window was razor sharp: daring somebody to come and test its sharpness. The sofa was black with grime and incredibly sunk in; the putrid smell that wafted in the air was almost unbearable, the wallpaper was peeling off the walls at every corner. The one light in the room flickered on and off feebly. There were cracks in the ceiling and the walls alike but for Travers this shack was his home.
There was an impending doom coming to the small town of Calamity. Unbeknownst to the citizens it would come firstly upon a church on the outskirts of a town. A few people were inside as the doom came closer. Preacher Tom was the first one in the church to sees what would haunt the town and was scared out of his wits. He pushes a young woman out of the doorway as he speeds into the church. He continues to bar the door and close up all of the windows as the surprised group stares on at him with suspicion. He dropped to his knees and prayed as a loud noise echoed through the building. The crowd began to scream as the windows rattled and the building swayed. All of a sudden, a whimper could be heard from the back side of the building. The sound was unmistakable, it was the tiny voice of little Lisa Cunningham. Mrs. Hamm hobbled quickly over to the door before anyone else could react. She threw the door open as Father Ted finally came to his senses. Lisa flung herself through the door into the arms of Mrs. Hamm. Father Ted lunged for the door and slammed his shoulder into it right before an unknown force bashed against the other side. Mrs. Hamm grasped the child as and attempted to console her as a sharp pain erupted in her breast. She looked down and saw a dark stain growing on her blue dress and jerked the child away. Everyone’s eyes went wide as they saw the scene unfolding before them. Lisa stood smiling; face covered in blood, and began to laugh hysterically. Mrs. Hamm was becoming hysterical as well, as she noticed that one side of her chest had become smaller than the other as a huge chunk had been bitten away by the child.