I was so scared to get on. My aunt and I went to get in line at the top thrill dragster at cedar; usually the line is 2 to 3 hours long but our wait was 45 minutes. We went to cedar point over the summer. As we went on the top thrill dragster because we have never been on the roller coaster and the line was really short. We were talking on the way to cedar point if we were going to ride the top thrill dragster. “If the line is shorter than last year we will try to get on the top thrill dragster”
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Pulling up on this old beat down gas station. We all knew it was old when the sign was hanging loosely and swinging with the wind. My dad needed to put gas but I could see he was very skeptical. I rolled my window down getting closer to the gas pump‚ when I smell the most unpleasant scent I have ever smelt. I told my dad we would have to pay for the gas on the inside because the machine was so old that dirt and spider webs built up in the card machine reader. The buttons to the pump were all faded
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Describe the scene at a train station It is 8 o’clock in the morning at Liverpool train station‚ the busiest hour throughout the whole day‚ it’s also known as the rush hour. Trains of all imaginable colours gradually draw to a halt‚ causing a slightly burned smell from the brakes. As the automatic doors fly open‚ continuous flows start of people shoving and pushing‚ rushing to get off into the already crowded station. The noise of the tannoy is hidden beneath the murmur of the crowds of people
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I remember the events of 9/11 like they were yesterday. The enormous‚ burning building collapsing to the ashy ground‚ people desperate to stop the plane that was being flown at 600 miles per hour‚ the impact of when the plane collided with the building‚ the screams and cries for help‚ along with my fellow passengers calling their loved ones to say they’re not going to make it. Yes‚ I said my fellow passengers. My name Lauren Kriewitz‚ and I am a survivor of the treacherous 9/11 attack. My flight
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Staphylococcus aureus: From a Spot to the Hospital The hospital is silent this morning‚ as the sun breaks through the blinds and casts off all the silver objects in the room. My hospital bed is uncomfortable‚ and it makes me yearn for my 100-year-old mattress and many unnecessary plush-pillows. The smell of bleach and cleanliness lingers in my nose and almost makes me feel sicker. How did I end up here? Well‚ that is not an adrenaline rushed injury or a freak accident‚ but something that started
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He sits on the steps in front of his brown house. One foot on the sidewalk the other leg bent at the knee. The orange glow of his cigarette held inches from his yellowing teeth. From inside the house he hears shouting. He stands‚ his light washed jeans are worn down at the knees. He stubs the cigarette in green ceramic ashtray on top of the wooden banister. Taking out a lighter‚ he walks over to his car. Placing one foot on the gray rear bumper‚ he lights a second cigarette. The luminescent street
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The plaid shirt was covering my tank top‚ the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the collar soaked with sweat. The faded red had been stained a dark crimson from the sweat pouring off me. I threw another bale onto the hayrack‚ straw getting caught in my shirt. I grabbed the open front of my shirt and shook free the straw. I rubbed the sleeve of the plaid shirt across my brow‚ to wipe away the sweat. I grabbed the final bale off the last hay rack of the day and threw it over the side‚ towards where
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rain. Waves rage upon the sand‚ sending sand back and forth as they go. They crash against the sea wall‚ shooting upwards and spraying the abandoned cafes and shops. Yachts begin to rock with the waves; they are like a gymnast balancing on a beam about to fall any second. The pier fights against the drowning waves as they attempt to bring it under the surface. Trees surrender at the battering wind‚ forcing leaves and branches to be torn off their trunks. A bird-usually so in control of its own destiny-fights
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Writing About Conformity Everyone wants to be able to fit in somewhere. People love having a place where they feel like they belong. No matter who you are‚ or what you like to do‚ or even what you look like‚ there will always be a place where you belong. Nowadays people will do whatever they can to be able to be a part of something where they think they fit in. I believe if you just continue to be who you are‚ you will find your place in society. From a view point of a teenager in high school
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Eagle River No wifi. No Service. No way to connect to the outside world except through the ancient landline phone hanging on the wall labeled with the numbers of the Eagle River library‚ the home phone‚ and pizza take out. The door screeches open; the rustic smell of the cabin fills the air and the aged wooden floor gives a small creak when stepped on. The two cabins have room to hold three families at a time‚ however the quick race to claim the rooms soon begins. As always‚ the kids end up in the
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