Peter said surprisingly‚ “can you please tell me where I can reclaim my luggage?” “Oh! Even I am going there‚ we can go together if you want" Mike suggested. "Yeah! Sure‚" Peter agreed. They both started walking‚ and there was an eerie silence between them. The silence was interrupted by Mike’s phone call and when he looked at it‚ his face feelings had changed‚ he was agitated. “I need to take this call‚ you carry on‚” Mike stammered‚ pointing the way. Then Mike went into a corner where there
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Power is certainly a main theme in both the poems ‘Ozymandias’ by Percry Shelley. And ‘The River God’ by Stevie Smith. Despite them having the same theme‚ there are many differences along with similarities between the poems. ‘Ozymandias’ is a sonnet poem about how leaders seem so powerful when they’re alive‚ however their achievements fade over time. Even a ruler‚ will be forgotten. Whereas ‘The River God’ is a dramatic monologue‚ about a beautiful woman who drowns in a river. The river is presented
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SI can remember that day when I was ten years old. I was going to the primary school with my friends by bus as every day in the morning. On that day‚ I leaved home at six a.m. and got to the bus. After that‚ I saw a strange man was following us in his car. He was about 40 years old with dirty clothes. Before we arrived to school he had shouted‚ "stop stop stop the bus" to the driver and he tried to stop our bus. So he hit the front of the bus by his car. After five minutes the bus stopped totally
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Friday‚ December 24‚ 8:40 a.m. Christmas Eve - today’s going to be insane. When I got up this morning‚ it was snowing heavily. The sight made me tingle with excitement. Pumping with adrenaline‚ I fixed myself a cup of water and took a quick wash. I lay down on my snug bed pondering over what to put down for my Christmas list... Life was hard here in Serbia ever since my mum died. Nothing was the same. No more clean water‚ no electronic luxuries and a huge shortage of money. I had to often help
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Gary Torry English II July 16‚ 2013 Drill or No Drill? The National Artic Wildlife Refuge (NAWR) is home to many animals‚ such as: moose‚ caribou‚musk oxen‚wolves‚foxes‚ grizzlies‚ polar bears‚ and migratory birds. Leaders in the oil industry‚ however‚ believe that the refuge is the perfect site for the “environmentally sensitive exploration” of oil. Environmentalists are wondering: What will become of
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Chapter 1 Mom’s word stuck me like a lightning bolt. I was so shocked that I forgot to give reaction to what I had just heard. Maybe because a part of me still believed this couldn’t be true. Well‚ was it a joke? I looked back into mom’s eyes. She was still looking at me with pitiful look in her eyes‚ which showed me sympathy. I wanted to ask her if she was joking‚ but then I realised it would be hard to bear the pain if she said no. Instead I wanted for her to say something else or give a reaction
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Once upon a time there was a boy laid in a corner of a dark room‚ he was alone and silent. The only noise was that of footsteps which entered the room. "Macro! Get up you swine" said the man. His voice was very deep and menacing. He wore a redcap with a dark green army suit‚ again he shouted and the boy slowly rose from the floor. “We know that you are involved with a gang of villains called the Mad Catz but where IS your secret layer?!!” screamed the man impatiently “I don’t work with them
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----------- The Mienshao opened her eyes and gasped loudly. She could instantly feel that she was sitting in a very uncomfortable position in small‚ enclosed space. The ground felt cold and metallic. It was obviously some kind of cage. The Mienshao looked down to her stomach and rubbed it‚ relieved to feel that her unborn baby was unharmed. "Richard‚ long time‚ no see buddy. How’ve you been?" a voice spoke happily. "Dr. Feinburg‚ it sure is great to see you again‚" replied a second voice
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Antwan Mansour S_113 Announcer: “ C_Copy2 and C_Copy 7 to super stage‚ report now.” “ What do you think all of this is about S_112 ?” “ I have no clue‚ they might have some sickness or might be polluted.” “Yea”‚ every time I talk to her I feel something in me that keeps me attracted to her‚ a bond maybe. Polluted‚ that word struck my head‚ what can it be? Thinking as I was strolling through the corridor until I approached a steel door called stage 3 with a sign saying “no
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One by one‚ the raindrops fell onto my head as I looked out onto the front yard‚ eagerly waiting for the postman to make his delivery. Feeling my hair drenched and frizzing up didn’t make me flinch as it usually did. There was only one thing that could summon that feeling. In the distance I could start to hear the grumble of the postman’s bike. As my ears twitched to the nearing of the roaring sound‚ I immediately got up off the veranda and paced towards the front gate. It was only a minute later
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