You would. My inner voice says No I would not, thank you very much. That is what you are doing right now, isn’t it? Why how rather snarky of you, myself! “Wait, what am I doing? This is weird.” It’s only weird when you make it weird. “Stop talking, I’m trying to do stuff!” I say out loud, beginning to weave vines and leaves together. The voice in my head mimics me, but retreats back. Looks like I won. I continue to gather wood and dry leaves, to make a fire as it is starting to get cold. Right when I enter into my camp I see that a fire has already started, and it doesn’t seem to be wild. Strange, I didn’t start a fire did I? No, maybe someone does live here, in that case I don’t think I should go to sleep tonight. Now that, is something I can agree with you on. …show more content…
I roll my eyes and put the sticks I have in my hands next to the fire. I sit down and begin to carve the sticks. Remembering how the other kids and I used to make wood carving and sell them in the village. “The village, how cruel they are. Acting as though I am some monster, something that they should be afraid of. It’s not as if I am any different from any other kids there, they talk about the powers that they have all the time!” I sigh and look at the stick that I had sharpened, stabbing it into the ground, “And Ms. Rose, she acted like I would kill her! Last night, if anyone was playing games it was her, pretending that I had been joking!” I stand up and begin to walk to the stream so I could catch something to eat. “Whatever, I don’t want to think about it
You’re too exhausted to actually cook a decent meal, so you reach into the freezer and pull out a frozen dinner from the back.
I remember walking in the room. I tried to turn around, but it was too late to go back now. “Amber, I already saw you. Come in here now.” I couldn’t tell her no. So I trudged into her room afraid of what she might say. “Is this weed any good?” asked my mom. “I don’t know mom. I don’t do drugs.” I explained to my mother. “Then come here Amber, try this… tell me if it's any good or not.” I walked to my mom’s room and was about to tell her no when she grabbed my arm and put the blunt in my mouth. (Flashback)
My brother noticing my declining pace, reassuringly grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. A we got closer to the tents, I stumbled and reached out for a tree to stop myself. It’s bark was rough and gnarled with age. I noticed the campfire which my brother lit with great difficulty was now on the verge of being extinguished from the drizzle. It’s warmth could be felt though with the strong smell of ash, and I quickly savaged it and sleepily scrambled into
It was an intermediate response as it seems I was stroked (struck?) by a small ball of molten lava monster. GO, GO, GO, but I really couldn’t. My body wasn’t functioning properly as it felt like just yesterday I learned how to rely solely on myself. I really couldn't do anything… Maybe I was always been a crybaby that the next moment I stood there and cried… I cried a river if that was possible!
A year ago I left ______I started going to an amazing school and met a whole plethora of wonderful, cute people. I made new, lovely friends that are some of the best people I’ve ever met. One person stood out from the rest, though. This ginger boy with the disposition of a golden retriever and a smile that I swear could make flowers grow. Of course I didn’t realize it at the time, but he’s the boy I would come to fall in love with. Now this boy—he is the biggest goofball I have ever met, but he’s the goofball that stole my heart, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
That night the neighborhood was alive with music and lights, "that party would be talked about for a while" thought Jerome. Everything was perfect, he had the best costume, didn't feel sick, and he was pretty popular that night. Then it all went downhill, he was talking to his friend and didn't notice when a stranger walked by and put a pill in his drink. The next thing he knew he woke up locked inside an asylum, still dressed in his 80's themed costume(disco pants, sneakers, Afro and rainbow leg warmers). If you thought he could just go out the window, you thought wrong, 4 stories up inside a locked room. Knowing he could get out through the the door or the window he looked for another way out, finding a piece of paper with the words "lay on the bed and
Sam and Antonello agreed to meet for a drink at the Vic. When Antonello arrived, Sam was already sitting at a table not the bar; on the table, on his side there was beer, on Antonello’s side a glass of red wine. Sam was bald, what was left of his hair, a rim of short hair, was flecked with grey. He had put on weight, but he was not fat, there was just a hint of a beer belly under the blue Metal Workers Union windcheater. ‘I took a punt – ordered you a red.’
Ever wondered what it's like to feel the sharp pain of getting stabbed? I'll tell you this, it isn't too great. For starters, it feels like you are being hit by a truck, but the truck is small, and very sharp. Know why I know this? Well, that's because I decided to play hero to protect the love of my life. Now that I look back at it, I'm glad I saved her. If not, I would not be alive today. I wouldn't be standing upon this platform looking into a sold out, speaking into a microphone about how in the world I created this little ball. So yeah, here I am talking to God knows how many people about how I am now considered a "genius". Well let us begin then, shall we? ~ Kuro says with the power ball in his hands, and a big smile pasted on his face as he looks into the crowd on the podium.
Jackie Kranz Ms. Sentner Period 5 October 17, 2017 Ava & Lily Lily - I was bored. I had something to eat, watched some television, played with my Nintendo, did my homework, and it was still only eight o’ clock. My friend Ariel was out, and I sat looking at the goldfish swimming around their tank, wondering what I could do. Then the telephone rang, and my life changed forever.
"Father,what were you thinking?!" I stood in the doorway of his study furious."Do you believe that what you did today was even in the slightest bit of humane?"
Wood burning. Black smoke burning my nose. My eyes watering from grief. My family.
He rapidly rambled on, green eyes glittering with excitement. Well, I figured out the point to this creeper’s mission. All he needs from me is to spend a few days with him without sleeping? Sure. This is totally a good idea. Like taking candy from strangers in white vans and not looking before you cross a street good idea.
It was a dark and foggy night I can hear the wind howl and screams in the distance but I kept running it's not safe it never was safe. It was a foolish idea to try to convince them it was the end. I ran by the graveyard right next to my house picked up the pace I slammed open the door and made myself upstairs I locked the door behind me and close all the blinds I turned off all the lights and turn on a candle. I looked around the house looking for a weapon. I went to the kitchen get a knife until something stopped me at my tracks I heard voices outside my house and they kept getting louder indicating they were getting closer. “Those filthy beggars deserve to die” I heard a man cackle as more follow presuit “You should have seen the boy cry
When discussing the poetic form of dramatic monologue it is rare that it is not associated with and its usage attributed to the poet Robert Browning. Robert Browning has been considered the master of the dramatic monologue. Although some critics are skeptical of his invention of the form, for dramatic monologue is evidenced in poetry preceding Browning, it is believed that his extensive and varied use of the dramatic monologue has significantly contributed to the form and has had an enormous impact on modern poetry. "The dramatic monologues of Robert Browning represent the most significant use of the form in postromantic poetry" (Preminger and Brogan 799). The dramatic monologue as we understand it today "is a lyric poem in which the speaker addresses a silent listener, revealing himself in the context of a dramatic situation" (Murfin 97). "The character is speaking to an identifiable but silent listener at a dramatic moment in the speaker's life. The circumstances surrounding the conversation, one side which we "hear" as the dramatic monologue, are made by clear implication, and an insight into the character of the speaker may result" (Holman and Harmon 152).