The Runaway - Original Writing The sun was just appearing above the distant hills. I was sat bolt upright, in the same position I had been all night. Shivers were running through me and all I could hear was the violent rain and howling wind, rattling the bus stop I had taken shelter in. The road was empty and had been all night. Sudden light blinded me. Houses opposite were just waking. I longed to be inside one of them with someone who really loved and cared about me. Instead I was cold, wet, tired and alone. I felt empty and unwanted. All I could think of was the now distant, yet still prominent in my mind, argument. "Liar!" Was the last word my mum had said to me. I wasn't lying. Why wouldn't she believe me? Rage was building up inside me. I hadn't done anything; it was him hitting me, not the other way round. But he was the one tucked up in a nice warm bed, dry, heating on, away in the land of nod. Whereas I was there cold, miserable and wet. Nothing to do, nothing to see, only animals for company. And she had the cheek to call me selfish! "You just can't bear to see me happy." Were the exact words she'd used. I bet she hadn't even noticed I'd gone; either that or she didn't care. He'd have only noticed when he realised his own personal punch bag was gone. Street lights flickered as they were been turned off. The gloomy light was lifting. I could only guess it must have been around 6am as I hadn't had time to get my watch, in my rushed escape. I looked round the bus stop, which was obviously once red, but now more brown than anything. Graffiti was everywhere, making it a little brighter but that didn't lift my mood. The whole shelter was strewn with litter. Crisp packets, chocolate bar wrappers; it just reminded me of my hunger. Fear began to kick in again, my stomach turned.
"Right from the beginning, I always strived to capture everything I saw as completely as possible", a quotation from Norman Rockwell (1894-1978), one of the most popular and prolific US painter in the 19th century. This painting is named “The Runaway” done in 1958 that first appeared on The Saturday Evening Post, September 20, 1958 (cover). It’s a painting on oil on canvas and the dimensions are 91cm x 85 cm and it is now conserved in the “The Norman Rockwell Museum of Stockbridge” (Massachusetts). This painting depicts a realistic scene where we see a little boy sitting with a police man sitting beside him and their gaze is directed towards each other. The cook is watching his elbows on the counter. So we can conclude that this painting belongs to the realistic movement.
Susan is running a mile and she says to herself “I’m just going to give up and walk it.” Yet, she still push herself to run. What drove her to do it? What in general drives people take on a mission and accomplish them? People may have different reasons to be driven to undertake and accomplish a mission; however many share similar characteristics. People are motivated to achieve a goal by wanting wealth, wanting to survive, and wanting to get something they greatly desire.
himself. It was the last lot on the bay at the end of the road that
close in to my shoulder just as Grandpa had showed me. Then I realized, I had no hearing
The sky was fading it’s original color and all of the sudden there was darkness all around us. In that moment we knew that the rumble was about to start. We all heading where the fight was about to began that when we met all of our gang. The greasers were ready to fight then the socs were already arriving in their mustangs. “Hey ponyboy stand behind me alright,” I said. “Yes Darry I will be okay,” Ponyboy stated. I was making sure that my baby brother was okay. I can not loose my baby brother just like I lost my parents. I promise them I will take care of them no matter what happens. The greasers and the socs were ready to start the rumble. Suddenly Dally came to join us that is when we started to fight. Tiny drops of water was starting to
Original Writing - The Conflict He could hardly see anything. It was dark, wet and the
would grab one last beer on dry land. To my surprise I noticed one of
I was bored and had nothing else to do, so I followed Ron and we
Happy Little Accidents I never intended to go to Belize. Bob Ross, the famous painter, used to say that there are no mistakes, only “happy little accidents.” Whenever he would make a stroke he did not intend, he would find a way to use that stroke to make the painting better; transforming a stray line into a tree’s trunk, or morphing a misplaced color into a bird in flight. As I would watch The Joy of Painting endlessly on TV, I thought about the skill of men like Mr. Ross at making the best of his situation, and turning his “mistakes” around to make the whole work of art turn out better.
in his vast hand. He then flicked the boot lid up with ease. Then the
with a flannel and soap. I get to Lyn's at just past seven and we make
Jack tried many times to start the car, but there was no hope the car
he was very angry and he did not want to let the person get away with
The wood was enormous. It was dark and it was cold and I needed to get
I was doing everything I said I would never do. Sure I still went to