Behind the drops of water I see a man slowly walking down the street. His eyes flicker up to see me. Locking gazes for half a second I realize he is the man from inside just a second ago‚ then i beg he won’t remember my face. I have to simply disappear after
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The lazy afternoon sun plants hot kisses on the nape of my neck as I drift up the garden path and towards the house. It’s the kind of heat that dries out your skin and chaps your lips. Towing an armful of bulky paper shopping bags‚ I slip through the side gate‚ shaded by the sweet smelling jasmine that climbs up the wooden fence palings. “Monet!” I shout‚ my eyes dart back and forth‚ surveying the empty yard. A heavy silence follows. My forehead prickles with worry when no little white dog with
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1/21/14 Bumps and Bruises I’m tired and restless after a mentally draining day at school. There are blurred lights and angry drivers all around me as the tires of my car grind against the cold concrete. My dad pulls into the back parking lot and signals for me to get out of the car. I groan‚ knowing that I am in for a long practice‚ and slowly drag myself out of the front seat. I lug my hockey bags out of the trunk‚ and they become another nagging reminder of the grueling workout I’m
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I woke up one April morning with the chickadees chirping rapidly in the tree branches. I threw my pants and socks on and rushed down the stairs as the smell of fresh bread assaulted my nose. Mom was already awake and greeted me with a slice of crispy toast‚ the butter was perfectly melted and seeped into the crust one squeeze‚ and it oozed out and dripped on the floor. Once I put my boots on‚ my feet were excited and before I knew it‚ I was flying out the door. One step outside and the smell of melting
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Eric Moore Essay #1 #365 September 4‚ 2010 My eyes and ears open to the sound of chirping birds outside the dew covered window and my alarm buzzing behind my head. I sense that my room is still messed up from the night before after I threw my gym bag down from practice yesterday night. I stretch my arms and legs as I prepare to get out of my warm bed. I was so sore from practice it felt as if my muscles turned of and I couldn’t move for the whole time. I started to get the feeling back into
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BEEP. The whistle blows and the water erupts as we take off. BEEP. We switch directions and begin swimming. BEEP. Again‚ we switch directions. After a few minutes of intense swimming‚ he sends us over the the shallow end where we have a few minute to rest‚ as the second group begins. At this time‚ my arms feel heavy from the sudden activity. Just as I begin to catch my breath‚ coach yells for my
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abundant. The older children confidently strut around aiming snowballs at anything that stands still long enough. Smaller children cower and scatter as they try to avoid the incoming missile attack. Girls scream and hide as they are bombarded with wave after wave of relentless snowballs. There is one young boy who can’t move. He is wrapped tight in so many clothes‚ that he can barely breathe. His scarf meets his hat leaving just a small slit for his eyes to warily peak out from. He can’t bend his legs
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The startling sounds of my alarm clock causes me to shoot forward from my bed. After my short lived panic I remember why I am waking up before the sun. I fumble through the darkness gathering my hunting gear before snatching up my shoes as I head towards the door. Pausing briefly in the cluttered mudroom‚ I pull my brown boots over my aching feet. I throw the door open and step into the misty fog. I look to my left and see the sun slowing coming over the horizon. I watch as it fades from a dark
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Jessica Schmidt Mr. Kelly English Composition I 1 March 2017 Soccer Ball The darkness is extremely overwhelming. I have been sitting in this bag for far too long. I can feel myself deflating. Suddenly‚ my gloomy home began to move‚ and a bright beautiful light from the sun appears above me. The rough big hands picked me up and placed me on the soft grass. I can feel the warmth of the bright sun on me. All the thoughts running through my head about what is going to be my task this time. I am
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Naturally by this time my aching loneliness glides in like an empty cloud drifting afar in the dead of night. All presence of faith deserted long before the scorching sun inhaled its last breath‚ in order for the moon to be reborn. Yet unmistakably it’ll only be the sun welcoming my dispirited morning as any glimpse of faith is hushed by my heavy thoughts‚ which deeply desire to remain firmly rooted in my mascara stained pillow. A reminder of the all the endless nights I overfilled with enough tears
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