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More handpicked essays just for you.
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Standing in front of her full-length mirror in the bathroom touching her swollen right eye gingerly and wincing each time, Lily could not help, but question its authenticity. “It looks, fake,” she said examining it. Deciding to test the theory she touched it a little harder. Crying out instantly she fanned her hand in front of it chuckling at her own stupidity. “Doesn't feel fake, stupid twat,” she said then giggled and put her hand over her mouth. “I don't think I ever called myself a twat before,” Lily said trying to remember if she watched any BBC recently. Still amused she reached for the cloth lying on the facet and recoiled while her back screamed in pain. Moving closer to the sink by way of baby steps she let the hot water drown the cloth. Learning her lesson painfully she decided to just stay in front of the mirror above the sink. Taking the cloth that was beginning to dam up the bowl and wringing it out she began to pat it over her lips. She followed the trail slowly. Letting it soak and flake off naturally rather than forcing it. Gingerly she guided it over the stale blood...
“Taylor moved forward and started to put her arms around the girl, but Jade Dragon stiffened and groaned. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t like that.’ She tried to remember what she knew about autism. For several weeks they had studied autism in her health class. She remembered learning that some autistic children were hypersensitive to touch. The little girl looked at her for a moment, then, to Taylor’s surprise, stepped forward and touched Taylor’s
I stared into his face, feeling a sense of outrage. His left eye had collapsed, a line of raw redness showing where the lid refused to close, and his gaze had lost its command. I looked from his face to the glass, thinking he's disem...
The article, “Girl Moved To Tears By 'Of Mice And Men' Cliffs Notes,” published by The Onion, argues through its satire that people shouldn’t cry over the dry, analyzed parts like the summaries and that they should read the book instead. The type of satire used to develop the thesis is horatian and a satirical device used to develop the thesis is irony. The article is filled with verbal irony with direct quotes from Weaver like “‘I never wanted the synopsis to end’” and from her professor that said, “this was not the first time one of his students has expressed interest in the novel’s plot summary.” The target of the satire are students who read summaries rather than the entire book and the purpose is to encourage students to read the book rather than Cliff Notes to get all the information. The opposing argument is that sources like Sparknotes and Cliff Notes can actually help a student if they don’t understand something they just read or if they are under a time crunch.
abuse he endured at the hands of a figure that should represent security and comfort-his
The Onion's article, "Girl Moved to Tears by Of Mice and Men Cliffs Notes" (2006) explains the reaction and reasoning behind University of Virginia sophomore communications major Grace Weaver and her choice to read the Cliffs Notes version of Of Mice and Men over the original. The Onion develops the major claim by including specific quotes from Weaver about her efforts in reading these Cliff Notes and the personal effect these summaries had on her while also going deeper by looking at her choice to read these summaries instead of the actual book. The Onion's purpose is to entertain readers with Weaver's experience in "reading" Of Mice and Men in a sardonic and cynical manner in order to bring awareness to a lack of understand and competence that can come with taking the shortcut with a task that deserves an actual attempt. Because of The Onion's use of direct quotes and small but forceful commentary, the tone is satirical and critical to an audience of individuals who have read Of Mice and Men and can laugh along with The Onion at Weaver's short-sighted pursuits and amateur response to the book she didn't really read which can serve as a reminder to the mediocre outcome that results from laziness.
wash to get rid of the germs that she collected from that stick of gum she just
As she was pressing her daughter’s hair she watched as the pot bubbled up with a funky smell. She couldn’t wait to let her daughter taste what it was, and swore that they were delicious! She grabbed a fork and wrestled with what looked liked rubber skin from a hippo, and pulled a piece of meat from out the middle of it and Gera liked to fell out. Gera told her mother never mind but her mother insisted. As she went toward the fork with her mouth open, eyes closed, and her nose plugged Gera spit it out before it could touch her tongue. Mother just laughed. Gera didn’t know if mother was so happy that she didn’t have to share or if she thought it was truly
“Shut up i can talk how ever i want!” Lilly yelled, before she could turn right on the left side of her cheek, Mr. WIlson socked her. She ran down the hall with tears rolling down her face all the way to her bedroom slamming the door before Mr. Wilson could say anything else. She then threw herself on the ground bursting into tears. Laying on the floor she spotted something under her bed which at first seemed like a piece of old bark but it was the Monkey’s paw. Curiosity Lily inspected he paw not knowing the dangers it had caused. She then placed it in her pocket, thinking about how bad life was treating her.
Jane, not her real name, became upset one night while I was at work. I was called to help stop her, as she had ran into the bathroom where she was making cuts on her face with a piece of mirror she broke from a compact. She made four parallel superficial lines of about two centimeters downwards from her left eye.
“It’s …coming…from…the…mirror,” Breanna stated as her voice slowly forced itself out between her chapped colorless lips allowing itself to be heard. She looked up at me and through the dimmed room I could make out her soft teary blue eyes. I began to feel really bad about allowing her to come when I knew how dangerous places like this are. I was soon jerked out of my thinking when a cold gust of wind blew between me and the mirror.
A Child Called It is a book written by Dave Pelzer. Dave writes this book as an abused child who went through horrific experience. In the first part, he writes how he was horribly beaten, and even forced to swallow his own vomit, ammonia, and even soap. Dave writes about the horrors children go through when abused. A Child Called It is an unforgettable account of an abused child who was brutally beaten, burned, starved, and tortured with an unstable alcoholic mother. A child Called It is an incredible emotional story where the author describes how he endured unthinkable suffering and abuse from his own mother who hated him for no reason. Dave provides a detailed account of the neglect and abuse as well as the emotions, struggles, and the pain he had to cope with in order to survive. Later on Dave was able to be freed from his hateful mother and the hell of life he was living in.
Without seeing her, I knew what she was doing. I knew that she was sitting in front of the mirror again, seeing my back, which had had time to reach the depths of the mirror and be caught by her look, which had also had just enough time to reach the depths and return--before the hand had time to start the second turn--until her lips were anointed now with crimson, from the first turn of her hand in front of the mirror. I saw, opposite me, the smooth wall, which was like another blind mirror in which I couldn't see her sitting behind me, but could imagine her where she probably was, as if a mirror had been hung in place of the wall. "I see you," I told her. And on the wall I saw what was as if she had raised her eyes and had seen me with my back turned toward her from the chair, in the depths of the mirror, my face turned toward the wall.
"Anna, would you like some tea," I offer as the screen door slams behind me. She doesn't move. "Anna," I try again, this time touching her shoulder with my elbow. She turns her chin towards me, but her eyes continue scanning the page until she has reached an appropriate stopping point. She lifts her slightly glazed, hazel eyes towards mine, unwilling to disengage from the world created by Anthony Piers or Terry Brooks. The corners of her mouth curl upwards, eyes slightly squinting from the bright sunlight, and she reaches out her empty hand, decorated with an intricate henna design, to grasp the sweating glass of tea.
It had been love at first sight, the day I met Tom. That stormy night
I am stuck in a world of thoughts, distracted with emotions, as my pen bleeds words of sorrow. Pain and