The night began with a positive start. The party was off the hook. The Saint John’s team had won the champion ships for the year. The guys went out for a good time to celebrate the victory. Daniel had a bit to drink, not surprisingly since he had been drinking lot lately. He was in a chilled mood, standing straight, and proud. It was a sudden change in mood. You could see the anger in his eyes.…
Blorida is all a IMAGINATION of a 10 year old KID called Zain.m From [[India]]…
It has been many weeks, but we finally heard the ship’s captain scream that he saw land ahead. Everyone on the ship was screaming with excitement. All of us start packing all of our belongings. Now, we had packed everything we came with. We said our goodbyes to the people we had become friends with. Then, the moment came and we stepped out…
There I was, walking along the road that lead to whatever next town it let to. It was a cold, windy sunny day with no cars around and I was also alone, which to me was a perfect day and I was also terrified.…
Situated on the bend of a horseshoe-shaped dirt road that intersects a back country highway is the place I called home as a child. Here my elderly father raised his two girls without the help or companionship of a wife.…
I heard my name and number being shouted out in the middle of the night, it was my turn. I wasn’t the last to get off the ship but I pitied those who were. The ship captain had told all of us what a great…
Poets of the XX century in United States of America express their feelings and thoughts in their poems. Each writer has his own style. To give a poem their style they use a unique way of treating theme, structure and tone. Thanks to these elements, readers can compare and contrast similar poems. “Chicago” by Carl Sandburg and “My city” by James Weldon Johnson are two poems that are similar, but in their own way different. These poems are similar in the fact that they both talk about the proud the feeling for their cities; their theme and tone are similar, but they differ in structure.…
The day was bright with a welcoming sky and cotton clouds. A cool breeze broke the heavy humidity and lifted a weight off my shoulders. The building that was once a towering mountain was behind me and my pathway lead home. A new family member was coming home and this time, she was…
After the fight, I realise it was real late. I wander the streets, in order to get back home. It was dark, cool, and very eerie. I must have walked for miles, before I got to my street. By the time I got to my street, The first thing to cross my mind was “This is Ackee’s fault.” He shouldn’t have let me go grab that stupid burger. It had felt like a century since that happened.…
As the sun goes down, the innocence of New York sleeps, while the predators hunt for their next victim. It was icy cold, yet we could bare it all. We were like lions escaping the torment of the suffocating metal bars that kept us away from society.…
As the day was coming to an end me and my men decided to head back to our ship with the hope tomorrow we would figure out the way back home. We reached the beach, the night compared to the blackest of satin flowing along the sky and smothering its host in pure darkness. Now the complete opposite of the morning, the air was heavy and humid, making it hard to breathe and the beauty of the area dissipated and was left…
I looked at the clock. It was only 8:00. I still had 5 hours left. I went into my black and white themed bedroom and set my phone alarm for 12:25. That would give me enough time to get all my things in order and drive the 15 minutes to the factory. I should arrive there right on time. I looked around my bedroom, suddenly resenting the lack of comforting colors. I have to admit, I was scared. I was starting the most important night of my life. Who wouldn’t be a little freaked out? With that thought in my head, I lay down, trying to get a little rest before I went and blew stuff…
I used to watch the news and see the warzone of a city we used to inhabit. Fighting, muggings, and robberies littered the screen every night from five to nine before I fell asleep to the sirens that hummed over the reporter's words. But, I didn't let it…
Take a half an hour walk through the city I live in and you will realise that it isn't designed for you as a pedestrian; it has undoubtedly lost its human element. You feel like an alien in your own world, trying to make your way through an entanglement of spaghetti-like highways. Your thoughts are drowned by the sounds of the fast paced spaceships soaring past you. You are in a non-place. A place of nowhere. A black hole. A place we humans once called a street. As an architect in this extraterrestrial world I put forward the following essay as an attempt to solving this problem.…
Livny is the town my mother was born in, and my husband and I try to visit several times a year. This town is rather small and has a dismally low population. However, I like this place. There are a lot of things to do in such a small town. There is the River, several parks, the ancient church. But my favorite part is undoubtedly the Adamov’s Mill. This place which dates back to the 1870s is actually the one to go for young people who believes in supernatural. There is a legend that the mill’s owner hung himself after unsuccessful launch of the Mill. Since that day the merchant’s ghost is roaming around this gloomy awesome building. They say that many people can hear muted voices, shrill whistle and shrill screams there.…