Everyone is dead. It happened in a moment‚ one small minute has altered my life. I always told myself life isn’t fair‚ it never has been‚ but this once I ask for a warning or a sign that I would be spending my last day with my family. Everything was fine for a week after the move here‚ just like the calm before the storm. Now thanks to one drunk driver I’m left on a hospital bed while the nurses play cards. Talk about sympathy. That monster killed Simon. He was just an innocent kid that dreamed
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The Story of My Search Do you know that dessert you have at every family gathering? You figure that it has something to do with your ancestors‚ but you just do not know the significance of it. Ever since I was little‚ I have thoroughly enjoyed the pizzelles my grandmother baked. From Christmas to Easter and all celebrations‚ pizzelles were abundantly found on the dessert table. Though I grew up with them‚ I never knew or understood the process the soft cookie went through. However‚ I do know that
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me. As I walked up the narrow driveway I could see my breath hanging in the cool morning air. The house was old‚ the windows were boarded up and had cobwebs in every corner. The bare trees scratched and scraped against the large‚ dark house‚ as the wind howled below. I zipped up my jacket when the wind started to pick up and then took out the key my grandfather had once given me‚ I carefully slid it into the gold padlock on the doors. As I was about to open the door the strong winter wind took another
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Staring at the grey walls of my bedroom I tried‚ albeit lackadaisically‚ to clamber out my bed. After several futile “attempts”‚ I rolled onto my side and buried my head into my pillow like a frightened ostrich sticking its head in sand. Indolently‚ my fingers grazed my cheek and ran past the dried tear stains from the night before. Slowly‚ I sat up‚ shoulders hunched over‚ clutching my comforter to my chest‚ and again cried. As the new tears began to run down my face‚ I wondered‚ why? Why had
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My identity is in a jar in the can house. It’s the white breath exhausted over greasy tools in rusty‚ silt-filled drawers. The mountain sounds‚ the back-up sirens‚ and steam whistles are my sounds. Spring is cold in the high country. Where hills imitate islands. Frayed cables will slice hands and give horrifying slivers. Let them rest‚ embedded in the mud. I’m flood waters rising in the night‚ and rafts of firewood and old doors. These chains are too big to reach my hands around but their rust remains
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are all made to help learn for the future. My favorite mistake happened a few years ago‚ when I left my instrument and suddenly stopped playing it for a long time. A few years ago‚ when I was transitioning from elementary school to middle school‚ I was in my prime of playing the alto saxophone in the school band. While that may not seem very important‚ I was very dedicated in it‚ and played very well. By then I had been playing the instrument for about 2-3 years‚ and was also in the beginning band
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to be exact‚ was the time when I first exist in this world. My parents considered Ana Angelica to become my name but they thought that it was a long name. So at last‚ they decided to christen me as Angelica and in our home‚ they nicknamed me as Ana. Yet in school‚ I preferred to be called Andrin. I am the type of person who was shy‚ quiet and not-so-energetic. But deep inside‚ I have many thoughts in my mind‚ many topics to talk about and many things to do. It was just that I am not
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plants and trees in here………… I was Born in lower middle class family in 1987.My father Biswanath hira is a well educated person but he engaged himself as a businessman rather than to be a service holder.M y mother Rina Rani Hira is also educated woman. My family has not many wealth but it try to be honest in any adverse situation. I was the only children of my family since my younger sister born in 1999.M y younger sister is now in class 10 and she
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My Hockey Adventures As winter approached‚ my parents constantly bothered me about choosing a winter sport. Because I was only in the sixth grade‚ my options for sports within the middle school were basketball‚ dance‚ or cheerleading. Luckily‚ I thought outside of the box and suggested hockey to my parents‚ even though my school did not have a team. A couple of my friends who played for the Mandan Hockey Club had helped me convince my parents to let me give it a try. The next week I was already
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the last of my clothing into a bag‚ anything I couldn’t fit into my luggage will have to be left behind. I’ve never realized how much stuff I had until I forced into a box; unfortunately‚ this didn’t stop from forcing as much as possible into bags‚ boxes‚ or luggage. Overall I packed almost my entire room. There’d be no room in my car for the mattress so it looks like the back seat will be my bed for the foreseeable future. No one’s home‚ or would be home for the rest of the night. My departure is
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