Abigail could no longer take it; two months have gone by without her John. After the arrest of John Proctor‚ Abigail was left with nothing. He was the only reason she was doing all this for‚ but now soon he would be hanged. Reverend Hale already suspected of her; she would be next. In order to save herself she has to leave Salem‚ but she couldn’t go alone‚ Mercy Lewis had to go with her. Abigail convinced Mercy Lewis that if she didn’t go she would soon be arrested and hanged. Between the two of
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requirements for her class. “Monologues will be due Monday morning.” I heard Ms. White say. My nerves could not catch a break. After class‚ I went home and wrote my monologue. I did not want to present my monologue to the class. I was shy and knew no one in my class. I told myself repeatedly that I could do it. Monday morning was here before I knew it. The feeling of dread filled me‚ and I wanted to back out‚ receive my zero with pride. When I arrived at school‚ my monologue clutched firmly in my hand
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saluting enthusiastically to their red-robed leaders under the yellow star; the boat crammed with coughing throats and calloused hands; blood washed away by the rains. She talked about things I had only ever heard about from the kind of tragic monologues that hot-shot actors won Oscars for and only shed real tears for at the podium. But unlike the performers’ melodramatic shouts of magniloquent misdirected emotion and the onion tears I associated with this kind of language‚ she seemed perfectly
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Dramatic Intro Flashing lights were blinding my vision‚ and emergency sirens were screaming in my ears‚ both making it hard to process the situation I was in. I looked around praying to find something familiar that could possibly give me guess as to what was happening‚ but was interrupted by sharp creaking of a metal door‚ which robbed my attention. I looked towards the direction the sound was coming from and was shocked to see the face of a man‚ I tried moving but couldn’t. Confused I asked him
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The vile odour of disinfectant permeates the air around me. My heart is racing and my trembling‚ sweaty hands cling onto my mother’s like a sloth to its branch. Gradually‚ more doctors begin to crowd around me‚ resembling vultures hovering over their prey‚ preparing to strike. The clanging of metal instruments and beeps of various machines distract me momentarily. Looking over to my left‚ I see a stout‚ middle-aged man donned in a green surgical gown. He is wearing a big‚ red foam nose and a multi-coloured
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The glazed tiles reflected on my tired eyes not allowing to be opened. I slowly started blinking‚ harmfully blinking my eyes to see where I am. I scrunched my eyes at the bright shining light of the operation theatre. Imagining what all I had gone through in the past hours‚ I felt relieved. Thanking god to keep me alive‚ and letting me save the lives of those innocent people who have suffered so much. The nurse approached me and inquired about my health. It was more of a routine‚ and I was dragging
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As I walked into the barbers for my weekly shave I notice the barber sharpening his razors. The colour drains from his face‚ and though I can not see it‚ I know he’s trembling. I almost laugh‚ it’s like he wants to be caught. I begin to remove my belt‚ as it holds my gun and my cartridges‚ the weapon that killed his allies‚ and notice him eyeing it nervously. I stop myself from smiling as I hang it onto the hook in the wardrobe and rest my hat on top. As usual‚ I hung up my bullet studded belt‚
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PROLOGUE PROLOGUE Only fools became starfighter pilots‚ and my mother was one of them. It is dumb to put yourself at so much risk‚ because you may end up as a flaming fireball through space. Like my mother. You would never know if the Sinats would attack‚ or ambush‚ or raid. My point is‚ piloting a starfighter is very‚ very dangerous. And of course‚ my mother happened to be one of them; a flying‚ dangerous maniac. By my fathers definition‚ she was extra stupid‚ but I always thought that flying a
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If I see that one of my friends is continuously looking off into space with a frown or looking down into their laps as if waiting for something ‘right’ to fall into it. . I make it a priority to text or talk to them about it. Usually they’ll say things like “I’m just tired.” Obviously‚ being someone who uses that excuse as if it’s the secret to life‚ I tell them it’s okay to talk about it if they need to. But‚ what about me? I mentioned I use that same ‘excuse’‚ did you catch that? Yes? Well‚ I’m
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The sun was an arctic blue overhead as I lay on what appeared to be a dull orange shrub. I closed my eyes for a moment‚ completely disoriented. Just a moment ago I was in a park‚ I remember a tugging sensation on myself‚ then a crushing feeling‚ before suddenly being thrust into the sky that I see now‚ completely alien from my world. Where am I? The land around me was rather flat‚ orange shrubbery dotted it‚ with certain structures on the plant that glowed blue‚ most no higher than my shin‚ trees
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