Aiming my flashlight at the ground in front of me, I breathed as I saw the cold air turn my breath into a cloud. The grass that was below my boots was soft as I crushed the blades underneath, the aftermath of the light rain giving off a dewy smell to the air. Continuing my walk, I was soon distracted before I stopped myself, realizing the structure in front of me. A large gate blocked me from the other side of it, spikes protruding from the top of the gate and the sides that seemed to spread out for miles on end. Reaching out to the gate, I felt a sudden sense of dread, as though a boulder had suddenly filled my stomach. Shaking off this feeling and chalking it up to paranoia, I placed my hands on the bars of the gate, the old metal being extremely cold from the rain, metal chipping off its surface due to centuries of rust building up. Pushing on the gate, I opened it a bit before feeling something grab me, pulling my back as my hand ripped away from the bar of the gate. I attempted to scream out, yet the other hand of the mysterious person covered it, preventing any way to bring attention to my ordeal. Fighting continuously, I was pulled down the side of the hill into a small ditch, where the figure pinned me against the ground. Turning my head to see the person, they held my face to the side, keeping me from even a slight glance at their face. Their strength was formidable, inhumane it could be considered, yet it was obviously being held back from it’s fullest potential. …show more content…
They continued to scold me for almost trespassing on private property, as though I voluntarily ignored signs and continued to make my way to the
Zero awoke to find himself standing, it was not something he was familiar with and he searched his memory for any recollection of it happening before. Quickly he discovered that large parts of his memory were missing, gone were the seemingly endless data bases of information. Quickly he sent out feelers trying for a connection of some sort but he drew a blank. It seemed that where ever he was now, had limited connection capacity. Instead he used his visual feed to survey his surrounding, it appeared he was in some kind of desert of discarded parts.
how strong they actually were, but the more I think about it. That was not the case. They were all
"So you see, Professor, Psychological Manipulation is truly a wondrous craft, something to marvel at, and fear. With the thoughts of my study, I leave you to think on just how problematic Psychological Manipulation could be if left in the wrong hands, hands such as mine." And with that Adira turns on her heel and struts down the walkway towards the old wooden doors, as her pale hand reaches for the doorknob the sound of a large book falling on the cold floor freezes her hand in midair, and the Professors dead, emotionless voice says a stress inducing sentence, one that she will never forget.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
I wasn’t sure if I wanted them to believe it or not. I didn’t want to tie strings I couldn’t keep together when I am going back to Essex within a few weeks. Riley just flashed him her sweet smile before we went back. Now the two of us lay in bed.
They met in a mid december night, how cold it was is something Louis remembers very well, so different from the light and gentle breeze that instead was blowing that evening, while he was waiting for him sitting down on stool in a bar. Without any apparent reason, probably in lack of something better to do , he started thinking about that night and, as usual, he wasn’t surprised of finding out that all he could remember was the cold. The cold. Only the cold.
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
The first day it happened, there was panic everywhere. People were running about, claiming there was another Jack the Ripper. I got a lot of hate mail in the first 24 hours. I hadn’t even known what happened - I was on vacation in France. I threw the mail away after I read the first three.
I reached for the knife, my fingers met the plastic case. “Dang it” I cursed. I must of dropped the knife when I tripped. I was thinking about going to look for it but my hopes were crushed when I heard something coming into the mouth of the cave. I dropped to the ground and started to snake my way behind a boulder. I armed the flare gun and took aim at what was to come around the corner. I heard a rock tumble and roll on the ground. I heard a something being dragged along the dirt. I glared at the figure, the little moonlight giving me some sight. I heard Anmol screaming. HELP, SOMEONE HELP” I watched in terror as a slumped figure rounded the corner, I could not see its face. It was black and deformed in a disgusting way. I saw it take Anmol to a corner, I heard Anmol scream one last time. A shrill, spine tingling scream. I heard something cracking and tearing. Like a green branch snapping over your knee. I was pretty sure that this thing, had just killed Anmol. Just before I was about to run, something was in my peripheral vision. Something that didn’t suit the colour way of the cave. I looked, at first I was surprised that there was a hat in here. I continued to look at it, gazing. Something about it was strange, like I’ve seen it before. A yellow sun hat with a sunflower brooch? Then it came to me, it was the mother brooch the one that went missing. I snapped out of thinking and decided it was my only chance to run. My feet meet the ground, I sprung out and went beyond my top capabilities of sprinting. I knew the thing was after me when I heard It screech. I turned around, aimed the gun behind me and pulled the trigger. For once the cave was lit up, I briefly saw everything. Anmol limp body, a pile of bones and the killer monster that chased me. It screeched at the flares brightness and dove into the shadows. I loaded another flare. I looked up, I was going to shoot the bastard again. I law its shadow and shot, it
One drizzly, humid day, I overheard my neighbor, Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout, arguing with her father. I glanced out the window to see what was going on over there with all of the disturbance. When I glimpsed over there, I could see through the window, that the trash was completely packed and piling over. I saw that her father asked if she would take the trash out. Then all of the sudden you could hear the annoyance in her voice when she shouted, “NO!”
WARNING: This piece contains a very shocking revelation. Side effects may include: itching, drowsiness, tired feeling, nausea, denouncement of religion, toothache, mild bruising, uncontrollable and lengthy muscle spasms, or severe gangrene. Ask your doctor if this memoir is right for you, which it probably is not. Batteries not included.
Let’s imagine this situation. If you need to close your eye feel free to do so. You wake up Saturday morning, at your usual time of 6:00am. You take a quick shower, eat a very fast breakfast, and head to work. Your job is one of hard physical labor, and honestly, it sucks. At about noon, you take a 30 minutes break to eat lunch, and are working again in no time. Yeah, good luck eating in that time. You’ll have no more breaks till your job is over with. Its 1:30pm now, and your back is really hurting, if you take a break, you’ll work better. The security guards shouldn’t do anything if you only take a minute. Well you’re about to find out, because one of your coworkers stopped for a break. What they did makes you wish u went back to work five minutes earlier. They dragged the guy across the jagged floor and his arm got caught between two rocks. They kept pulling until it snapped in two. They then proceeded to break his legs because he sat down and didn’t want to use his legs just a minute ago. See the irony? Now he can’t work, provide for his family, and they will surely starve, because you barely can feed your family with the salary. Luckily tomorrow is your only day off the entire week. You can rest, or can you?
running down the street and made me fall over as it hurtled through my legs and continued on it's merry way. With a little feeling of ruefulness at my decision to wear high heels for the first time, I slowly began to push myself back into my tottering position. Which is when it started to rain. Great, freezing drops began to suddenly pour from the sky, and in seconds I was drenched. Staring in frustration at the sky, I realized that the umbrella I usually carried (because when doesn't it rain in New York?) had been left at home.
Habits of the Creative Minds is a simple textbook with a particular twist. I began reading the book thinking it was going to be a basic textbook, but the author,Richard E. Miller and Ann Jurecic, changed the tone of the book and put it into a metaphor. This metaphor was about the reader in your writing, or for anyone reading should feel like Alice in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The reader should be reading, and figuratively fall into the reading, by this the authors means the reader should not want to put that book down. They should be engulfed in the book and read from cover to cover. The attention must be maintained and the best way to do this is by making the writing unique. The authors of this book puts
Taking a creative writing class was a good way for me to express my thoughts and feelings onto paper, as well as read my other classmates stories. Reading stories created by other people lead me into their mind brain to experience what type of writer they were, it was an overall exquisite class. I believe that every person has a way of expressing who they are through writing stories of their own, fiction is the best way to express your creative imagination. This class that I took for two years helped me become a better writer and helped me understand the types of writers we have.