Creative Story- Stuart Hamilton I felt the air brush through my hair as I made the brisk escape from the hellish gates of the John-Smiths High school. I spun round in a quick one hundred and eighty degree turn to try and check if anyone had seen me make my escape or if anyone had been approaching to try and stop my quick climb over the small tattered aluminium fence held loosely by a few loose nails and screws. It seemed that today was going to be one of the few lucky days where my planned escape
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room‚ she drew back the curtains‚ and the bright rays of sun warmed her face. The wind entered her open window on that beautiful June morning‚ and it tickled her nose as it reached her. “Up‚ up‚ up‚” her mother exclaimed. “It’s a big day today‚ and you can’t stay in bed another minute! We have an appointment!” After minutes of battling her bed‚ she finally managed to escape the twisted covers to join her mother in the car. They drove with the windows down to embrace the bakery’s fulfilling aroma
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People think I’m crazy because I see lights. I’ve seen them all my life. Strange‚ multicoloured patches of light swirling through the air. The patches are different sizes‚ some as small as a coin‚ others as big as a cereal box. All sorts of shapes - octagons‚ triangles‚ decagons. Some have thirty or forty sides. I don’t know the name for a forty-sided shape. Quadradecagon? No circles. All of the patches have at least two straight edges. There are a few with curves or semi-circular bulges‚ but
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Universal Studios‚ Hollywood. Where I am about to enter through the entrance when my friend suggests that it’s not a very good idea‚ but I shrug and say what could possibly happen besides being scared half to death. We enter. It’s dark‚ the walls feel close‚ there’s an awful smell to the place‚ as if someone has died inside. I feel nervous because I don’t know what’s coming in the distance‚ and I have what feels like a hundred butterflies flying around in my stomach. I can feel the hairs on my arms
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a valid and universal basis to further improve the school sports development programs. The legal basis of the Palarong Pambansa is stipulated in the provision of the 1987 Philippine Constitution Article XIV‚ Section 19. ALARONG PAMBANSA PROGRAM I. Description of the Palarong Pambansa Program 1. The Palarong Pambansa Program is an annual multi-level national scholastic athletic competition conducted by the Department of Education and participated in by the elementary and secondary pupils /
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Congratulations. Five syllables. One word. A million sparks of energy surge through my body sending my every nerve into a hypnotic awe. It was as though you were falling in a dream and being kicked out of it. A moment of realisation… this must be just a dream‚ and for that reason alone I refuse to let it sink into my conscience. The world will remain a tone‚ a sound wave having happened to penetrate through my very existence‚ bouncing off the walls of my ears. Those alike to me filled their faces
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Queen’s piercing eyes. The 143 year old was seven feet tall‚ her neck downwards surrounded by a dark synthetic body suit. Her face was a wrinkled prune and her eyes replaced by black artificial beads. “I think you know why I’m here.” Catherine said. The queen’s smile had vanished. She said nothing. “You have reigned for over one hundred years.” “Yes.” Her gaze was stone cold. “And...”
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» English: Creative Writing Essays for English: Creative Writing Creative Writing: a Night Fishing Creative Writing: A Night Fishing It must have been 4 feet long and must have weighed at least 30 lbs. It was one of the slimiest ones we ever caught. The tentacles were... Creative Writing: Equality Creative Writing: Equality Nausea. To describe the whole situation in one word I would have to choose nausea. The Expo center was packed with societies elite‚ eagerly... Creative Writing: Jimmy Valentine
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creature inside my addled brain repeated over and over; a moronic mantra. I loathe them and their cheap‚ over – the – counter perfume‚ their pathetic pouts constantly asking me “Are you ok?” Obviously I’m not “ok”: Trapped in this terrible tirade of torture... I’m Bo‚ currently 16 years old and counting down days to a well-deserved death; I have a scar straight down my face to my neck; just moved house to start afresh and I have “problems.” Today is the end of the first week at my new school;
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Everlasting Bass The sound of a party nears‚ the bass echoes throughout the suburban neighbourhood. The bass somehow grows louder. It takes me back to that night which I show very little remorse for. It was an experience of a life time The full moon shines above us‚ illuminating our high street garments. Neon green and pink was the theme as we swaggered down the quiet boulevard. We look at one another as the trembling bass in the distance reverberated to our ears. We smile and chuckle as curiosity
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