It was six in the morning on a summer Sunday and Percival woke. No matter how much he wanted to sleep in, it never happened. Like clockwork, his eyes opened at the same time every morning, rain or shine, summer or winter, regardless of what time he’d gone to bed the previous night. He had grown used to it, and tried his best to get to bed early. However, that was a challenge, since his boyfriend, Gwaine, was a night owl. Gwaine was most productive later in the evening, and as a medical school student (In his last year, FINALLY!), Percival understood his boyfriend’s needed to capitalize on studying when his brain best retained information. Percival had done the same during his three-year-long Doctor of Physical Therapy program. It made Percival chuckle whenever he thought about the fact that he and Gwaine would be referred to as Doctor King and Doctor Green, respectively, once Gwaine graduated. Golden sunlight trickled into the master bedroom of their beachfront house. They’d just purchased it a month ago, but it already felt like home. It was not fancy, nor large – there was an upstairs and downstairs, two bedrooms, two bathrooms (“With room to add on!” their relator had chirped), but the wraparound deck on the upper-level and the incredible water views from the floor-to-ceiling windows had convinced Percival and Gwaine this was the place for them. …show more content…
After sticking Gwaine’s phone and earbuds into his pocket, Percival yanked on his socks, laced up his shoes, then marched downstairs to stretch and down half a bottle of his homemade sports drink, which Gwaine proclaimed “tasted like death.” No matter how many times Percival explained the perils of drinking pre-made sports drinks “loaded with sugar and chemicals,” Gwaine still drank them like they were going out of style. That, and mugs upon mugs of coffee each day. One day, Percival would get his boyfriend to
Grant successfully managed to treat Mr. G she comes to the realization that a doctor should not judge a patient no matter how they may act, as each patient may have a reason for acting the way they do. Dr. Grant has managed to learn how to combine her own personal experience with her doctoral skills she had learned in medical schools. Dr Grant believes. “ …[A]fter twenty-eight years of schooling, my education continues, both inside and outside the classroom” ( 183). Mr. G was the key figure in changing Dr. Grants judgement. If Mr. G had not shed light onto why he was in the hospital and how he felt stripped of his freedom to Dr. Grant she probably would have just branded him as crazy, she probably would have done the same to similar patients. As Dr. Grant states, “ … I was proud of myself for having accomplished my task… I was proud of myself because I had decided not to prejudge Mr. G” (182). Mr. G exposing his true emotions to Dr. Grant was the reason that she learned that she should not judge unique patients but instead, she should try to communicate with them and better understand so she can better help
The house was gigantic and gorgeous. Compared to Tom’s, this building is full of liveliness and a sense of joy. This place is like America without
Esperanza wishes she could change where she lives. Even though Esperanza moved to a nicer house, she still does not like the house on Mango Street. Esperanza’s parents made the house they were moving to seem luxurious. Upon arrival, Esperanza realized “the house of Mango Street is not the way they told it at all. It’s small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you’d think they were holding their breath” (4). Even though the house on Mango Street is an improvement, it is still not good enough for Esperanza. Esperanza says, “I knew I had to have a house. A real house. One I could point to. But this isn’t. the house on Mango Street isn’t it” (5). She dreams of one day having a bigger and better house. The new and improved house will be a place for others to come and stay, “some days after dinner, guests and I will sit in front of a fire. Floorboards will squeak upstairs. The attic grumble. Rats? They’ll ask. Bums I’ll say, and I’ll be happy” (87). Dreaming of moving to a new house not only gives Esperanza the feeling of control and independence, but makes her
Many games are involved in the plot of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. The Green Knight, Bercilak de Hautdesert, plays a "Christmas game" with Arthur's court at Camelot (line 283); Gawain's host's wife plays games with Gawain throughout the third section of the poem; Gawain's sees his arrangement of mutual trade with his host as a game (line 1380); and all of the events of the story are revealed as a game of Arthur's sister, Morgan Le Fay (lines 2456-2466). Throughout the telling of the story, the author plays a mental game with the reader or listener, as well.
Also, the inside of the house felt cooler inside than outside once walking a few steps inside. When walking to the left along the hallway is a living room with a window to look out at the front yard, a multi-purpose pool table set and a couple of couches. I kept walking down the hallway until I reached the dining room; the long wooden table was empty except for the same oak chairs surrounding the table as if they were worshipping the table. The seven candle holder against the right side of the wall isn 't lit because the dining room had enough light from the sun shining through the sliding glass door that is past the main living room. From here I could hear my turtle tank and my fish tank filters splashing the water like kids in a
“The house is settling,” my Italian carer would say as the lights dimmed and glowed in her ghostly presence… but this wasn’t all the house did. I slept in my room. Well, not really slept. Sleep was never something I did much of, especially early on. My worries at seven pm far outweighed my need for sleep. Awake. Forever awake. My father had left me. My mother…
'Wilson sat on the balcony of the Bedford Hotel with his bald pink knees thrust against the ironwork.' He looked out toward the ocean - past the spire of the church thrust into the sky in defiance of the uniform serrated, tin roof-line of the huts clustered around the shore, past the bronze glimmering naked bodies of the inhabitants toiling through the midday heat, toting woven grass baskets and gray baked clay urns upon their heads - to the tranquility that lay just out of grasp, toward the calm that rested just above the water and just below the sky; an ephemeral space one could put his finger upon on land but which always alluded one, slipping just out of grasp when upon the sea. A foreign ship in the bay began taking down the sails to anchor, awaiting another day of futile searches for hidden diamonds. The setting sun draped the tin roofs with a golden gilt which overflowed and dripped to the sand below, creating a landscape worthy of Midas himself, if only for a few seconds.
In the poem "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight," Gawain is a guest at Hautdesert Castle. During his stay at the castle, three separate hunts take place. These hunts also parallel temptations aimed at Gawain by the wife of the Lord of Hautdesert Castle. In each hunt scene, a characteristic of the prey of that hunt is personified in Gawain's defense against the advances of the Lord's wife.
As you enter the cove, your eyes are filled with the striking colored homes bathed in hues of peach, salmon, and sunny yellow. Each home is topped with a Spanish terra cotta tile roof. There are seashells of different sizes scattered along the sidewalk. A series of stones on the ground makes up the driveways, and each home is surrounded by a magnificent garden. The aroma of confederate
Once one got nearer, the archway opened up until one could see the whole front of the house in a somehow eerie way. Around the windows grew ivy and creepers, twisting their way up to the roof in a claw like fashion. The windows themselves were sparkling clean, but the curtains were drawn in most of them, even though it was almost noon. The doors were of solid pieces of dark oak and the two windows above it seemed to give the whole house a rather formidable look.
I’m not sure how the clock learned to control the light. Every time the minute hand would cleave the twelve at three o’clock the room brightened. The cloud of sleep lifted and the new freshness was almost palpable. With a nod from the teacher we quietly made our way around the room to rouse the kids.
The third maddening buzz of my alarm woke me as I groggily slid out of bed to the shower. It was the start of another routine morning, or so I thought. I took a shower, quarreled with my sister over which clothes she should wear for that day and finished getting myself ready. All of this took a little longer than usual, not a surprise, so we were running late. We hopped into the interior of my sleek, white Thunderbird and made our way to school.
A preteen girl with green hair and glasses knelt before her standing parents. Crayon drawings of beaches lay next to her on the floor. The walls trapping her in were decorated in rotten wood. Her parents looked down at her shaking clasped hands with annoyance. Over a few hours their expressions softened to pity. Their house was a haven but not a resort.
As I walked down the sidewalk, my nose picked up the salty scent of the sea breeze. I looked ahead and saw the gleaming beach in the far distance. Before me, the tranquil city along with the endless blue sea sandwiched the golden beach that stretched across for miles. Then my eyes were grasped by the incredible beauty of the city skyscrapers that stood hundreds of meters tall, and they probably had also captured the sight of many other tourists. Some people were jogging and others were bike riding Just as the yellow sun rises from behind the buildings. It’s easy for many people t...
He woke with a start, a police siren blaring past the open window. HIs arm waved blindly in the dark searching for the electric alarm clock placed on a pile of old newspapers and magazines. The neon numbers informed his groggy eyes and pounding head that it was 04:30 a.m. His mouth felt like sandpaper and tasted like vomit. He gave a quiet groan, pushed his hands into a dark tangled mess of hair, as though trying to make his head cave in, and maneuvered off the bare mattress onto the floor.