Amber Johnson Josette Arvizu Writing 101 Narrative Essay 12 September 2009 First Days At Boarding School This was the fist time I flew in a plane and I was so sure I was going to die. I imagined the planes engines suddenly breaking down and then slowly we plummeted down to certain death. “Excuse me miss‚ would you like something to drink?” the flight attendant asked me. I must have looked worse then I thought because she said it in a calm soothing way sort of like she was trying to talk someone
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9/13/10 In David Sedaris’ “Plague of Tics” readers learn quickly about Sedaris’ OCD behaviors and how they affect not only himself but also the others around him. I have certain compassion towards Sedaris as I learned through the “Plague of Tics” we shared a connection relating between our views and past events. His family is clearly used to the odd behaviors but rather than being worried they tease him and think the tics are voluntarily practiced. Due to his unique routines annually his teachers
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A guard with an unfamiliar face approached our door. “You are going to take a shower now‚” the guard snared from the doorway of our barrack. We shuffled out from our bunks and moved out the door. The soldier strutted with pride in front of us‚ as if he was proud of what he was doing. The now familiar stench of burning flesh stung my nostrils. I watched my bare feet navigate
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Blocks/Hollow concrete blocks. Mosaic Black granite slab Main door - Approved designed Hot-pressed vinyl coated shutter with hardwood frame Internal doors - Flush shutter Walls Flooring Kitchen First class clay brick in cement mortar / Light Weight Cement Concrete Blocks/Hollow concrete blocks. Marble Galaxy granite slab Main door - Designed & carvedTeak wood with teak frame Main door - Designed Teak wood with teak frame Doors Internal doors - Designed & carved Teak wood with teak frame Designed
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Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting. From room to room they went‚ hand in hand‚ lifting here‚ opening there‚ making sure--a ghostly couple. "Here we left it‚" she said. And he added‚ "Oh‚ but here tool" "It’s upstairs‚" she murmured. "And in the garden‚" he whispered. "Quietly‚" they said‚ "or we shall wake them." But it wasn’t that you woke us. Oh‚ no. "They’re looking for it; they’re drawing the curtain‚" one might say‚ and so read on a page or two. "Now they’ve found it‚’ one
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“I really don’t like it here.” With the doors propped open‚ the auditorium was cast in a soft twilight glow that didn’t reached the corners. Shadows danced on the floor‚ walls and ceiling. Spider webs hung from the light fixtures and a rat squeaked in the distance. “Remind me again why we are
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got dressed‚ and ate my breakfast- Kellogg’s Raisin Granola Crunch‚ and pop tarts. I then brushed my teeth‚ combed my hair into a ponytail secured by a big black hair band‚ put on my shoe’s‚ made sure everything else was in order‚ and headed out the door to the car. And so it was that I arrived at the Dial A Ride parking lot with plenty of time to spare. Here that I met my buss mates. I was pleasantly surprised to find them all rather nice people‚ people who were friendly towards me. We introduced
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but no one answered. As I pressed my feet onto the cold ground I stood up and walked slowly towards the door as I got closer the voices grew louder. It sounded as if the voices were telling me‚ “Hurry Amy! Hurry!” As I put my hand on the steel door knob my heart started beating faster to where it felt as if my heart was about to explode out of my chest. I turned the door knob and opened the door slowly and walked into a long hallway with windows covered in torn white curtains and dark brown stains
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head on what to do with her lover after she had accomplished in finding out the secret of what was behind each of the doors‚ being the first one to ever do so. As she struggles to come to a decision she has thoughts of “how often in her walking hours and in her dreams‚ had she started in wild horror‚ and covered her face with her hands as she thought of her lover‚ opening the door on the other side of which waited the cruel fangs of the tiger” (Stockton‚ pg.4). From that thought it leads to another
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feet sunk into the beige carpet as I hustled towards the door at the very end of the hall and cursed myself for choosing to have the room farthest away from anyone else. My hand grasped the metal door knob and turned it‚ but before I could breathe out a sigh of relief‚ my face contorted into an expression of horror. “AHHH!” I shrieked. “Scaredy cat‚ scaredy cat‚” my little brother Tejpal bellowed. He had sprung out from behind my door and scared the living daylights out of me. A mixture of
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