WARNING: This piece contains a very shocking revelation. Side effects may include: itching, drowsiness, tired feeling, nausea, denouncement of religion, toothache, mild bruising, uncontrollable and lengthy muscle spasms, or severe gangrene. Ask your doctor if this memoir is right for you, which it probably is not. Batteries not included. Contrary to popular belief, rocks are not soft. As I found out for myself, they are actually quite hard, and, like the sheer number of quandaries that plague human civilization, no amount of soft padding can change this fact. The day was warm and full of sunshine on Launiupoko Beach Park on the island of Maui (BREAKING NEWS!). The waves made the water bob up and down like the people in it; there was some …show more content…
I am absolutely terrible at judging distance by vision alone, but I would have guessed that I was out about 500 feet from the shore. At the aforementioned shore, there were many small, round boulders, each about four to six feet in diameter, lining a concrete buffer wall. If one were to walk across the ocean and traverse the boulders and scale the wall, then not only would they be the next incarnation of Jesus for walking on water, but they would also find themselves on a scenic, seaside …show more content…
And, as if the same deity wanted to see how I would react, I caught the wave and started surfing. Granted, I don’t recall standing up, but I was still riding on a surfboard, straddling a wave! “OH MY UNSPECIFIC AND NON-DENOMINATIONAL DEITY, I AM SURFING,” I merrily thought to myself. “Now how do I stop this thing?” I asked myself that question as my uncle’s board, as well as my face, made a beeline towards the rocks. I frantically searched for the brakes, only to realize that surfboards don’t have brakes. The rocks drew closer, and closer, and closer still. To say that I panicked would be an understatement, for I considered both myself and the board. Turning was out of the question, as the only direction was forward. The volume of the roaring wave behind me did not help, as it only served to both push me into oblivion and drown out my thoughts. I had no choice but to brace for impact, and brace I
time to have fun and roll a large boulder off the edge to watch it be
THE PAST :.. In days gone by, the four species managed to live in perfect harmony. Witches, werewolves and vampires lived in secret, blending in with the humans on a daily basis - and the humans remained completely in the dark about their existence. It was after thousands of years of living this way, whilst everything was completely normal, that a small group of vampires decided that they’d had enough. They spent months devising plans.
I looked up at Gabriel from the grass. I never actually got to inspect the full extent of his features. His dark brown hair was tussled and looked as if he had been running his fingers through it from stress. His green eyes resembled emeralds. He had a bit of muscle on him, but he wasn’t too broad shouldered. You could see a small rose tattoo on his upper bicep. He wore a dark green t-shirt and jeans. He was definitely handsome, and all his features complimented each other.
One rather beautiful day I head down to the building fields of Uruk with my only son Urnabe. He is 14 and he is turning out to be a skilled mason or at least better than his old man. When we get there I see that Binfem was already waiting for me.
The Story begins on a beach with three young children playing. Violet, 14, inventor; Klaus, 12, amateur researcher; and Sunny, baby, professional biter who has not totally developed speech. When they arrive to the beach it is a cloudy foggy overcast day. Violet is spending her time here skipping rocks, Klaus is studying tide pools and Sunny is just enjoying her time being at the beach with her older siblings. Even though it is not the greatest day in the world, the children are enjoying their time spent here at their favorite place. No other people are here on beach and this gives the children a place to be alone with their imagination. While playing a gentleman is approaching, but with the fog it scares the children because they cannot see who walks beneath the fog. As the figure gets closer they start to figure out who it is. The strange figure that lurked in the fog is Mr. Poe a friend of the family. Mr. Poe comes over to the children playing and explains to the children that their parents have perished in a fire that destroyed their home. Mr. Poe explains to the children that they will have to live with his family temporarily until he can figure out a plan as to where they will go.
Thinking about my childhood, I remember many things that influenced me as a person and changed or evolved my perspective of the world, its peoples and its things. One of my most vivid memories that this essay is about, changed the way I represented myself to the world and the way I felt being exposed to it. -- Being lost or forgotten at a young age is a bone-chilling experience that all of us have to go through, at one point or another. So, here I was, at the age of three, left all alone at a carnival in Muscat, Oman.
Marc lowered the boat as fast as he could, trying to get away from the pushy sunburned group of men approaching. When the lifeboat hit the water my heart sunk, there was nothing around us. I had no idea where I was, let alone where the nearest body of land was located. Looking back, I think Marc miscalculated the distance between the lifeboat and large cruise ship. He jumped towards the lifeboat, but upon his landing, a wave swept me and the boat further
...The lifeguard yelled, "Keep your hands and your feet together." I sat down on the edge at the very top of the slide, he gave me a hard, fast push and I was off.
When I was a child I liked to write letters to my friends. I had a lot of pen-pals.
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
My vision blurred and my chest was pounding like the fists of a thousand demons wanting to reach my heart. I was beginning to think they had succeeded. My hands had turned to ice and I knew that there was no turning back, it was all over. * A few years ago, I longed for something. There was a horrid feeling of emptiness that enveloped me.
Rocks of beach and waves of sea. The sound of the waves of sea can be heard. Then the Crunch of boots on rocks can be heard as two pairs of legs interrupt the scene and camera focusses on two boys walking across beach towards a wharf, wearing Boots, Jeans, Flannel shirts and beanies. BIGGIE’s face is ‘unlovely’ and pear shaped with a lazy eye KEVIN: I’m goin’
The lonely empty silence is overpowered by a wall of foam rushing towards me. Wheels of sand are churning beneath my feet. My golden locks are flattened and hunched over my head to form a thick curtain over my eyes. Light ripples are printed against my olive stomach as the sun beams through the oceans unsteadiness. I look below me and can’t see where the sand bank ends; I look above and realize it’s a long way to the top. Don’t panic Kate, you’ll get through this. I try to paddle to the top but am halted by something severely weighing me down- My board. That’s what got me in this mess in the first place. I can see the floral pattern peeping through the sand that is rapidly crawling over it. I quickly rip apart the Velcro of my foot strap and watch my board float to the surface effortlessly as I attempt climbing through the water to reach the surface. The fin of my board becomes more visible to me as I ascend. Finally, an alleviating sensation blasts through my mouth.
Taking a creative writing class was a good way for me to express my thoughts and feelings onto paper, as well as read my other classmates stories. Reading stories created by other people lead me into their mind brain to experience what type of writer they were, it was an overall exquisite class. I believe that every person has a way of expressing who they are through writing stories of their own, fiction is the best way to express your creative imagination. This class that I took for two years helped me become a better writer and helped me understand the types of writers we have.
adj. Lasting for only a limited period of time; not permanent. ....... lasting for only a limited period of time. I find so much peace in the word temporary.