SPEAK WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND
PROLOGUE
It was a dark, rainy night. Anna was driving alone on the wet streets of Portland, Oregon to her parents’ house. Her windshield wipers were waving like crazy, and her headlights were not shining bright. When then she knew that all safety was lost, in this closed off forest, in my small car. The radio was screaming fun jazz music to lighten the mood. Though Anna was tired and weak wishing for the drive to be over. Little did she know her life was about to change, for the better and worse.
Anna was slipping and sliding on the road but managing to keep control. Then a large brown delivery truck sped out of nowhere. As shocked as she was, Anna swerved out of the way. She jerked the steering wheel but the ground
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Her car is faster than anything she has ever experienced. Finally her car stops and the side door bursts into flames! Anna studders, she has to get out of the car. She unbuckles her seatbelt, but because the car is flipped over she falls down into the fire. Scared out of her mind she reaches for the handle of the door and thunder strikes above. Now, the rain has stopped. It was convenient how the rain stopped right when she needed it to put out the fire. Anna’s car is not half burnt and the fire is spreading. She still struggles and tries to open her car door. The door is stuck! Quickly, Anna reaches for the windows. She grabs the black sturdy handle and moves it in a circular motion. Slowly the car window opens, just a crack. As if all hope is lost, Anna gasps for air, that is not inflated with smoke. Her whole body hot as can be. Her clothes are on fire, the golden flames pierce her skin. She climbs to the top of the car and to get the door open. Then the rain starts pouring down and with it strikes of lighting. She falls out and screams as the rain keeps falling. Her clothes still on fire she sees a river below her, so she jumps …show more content…
I feel like i’m wrongly eavesdropping. It started when I wound up in the hospital after the accident. As soon as I had enough strength, I walked to the nearest rest stop. Once I got there, I could call the police so I could go to the hospital. But I heard voices in my head. There was one other man at the rest stop sitting on a small, broken wood bench. It was almost like I could hear what he was saying without him saying it! His conversation was about either driving his truck all the way back to the station or using up the lasts of his coins to spend the night in a Motel. There was also another thought about his truck being ruined, which I didn't
Everything was going great at Oakville farm, I mean everything was normal and okay how it should be if you don’t count that the fact Donna came home late last night. She came home around two or three o’clock in the morning when it was pitch black outside, and believe me this isn’t the first time it ever happened either, maybe it’s not that big of a deal to you but to me it is, Donna here is the farmer’s daughter. While Mr. Salem is away she’s the one in charge of us,and because she’s the one in charge of us we haven't eaten in two days! Mr. Salem always made sure we were cared for, and was handled with love but , Donna on the other hand she just doesn’t care. There’s a lot of us here on the farm, we have a variety of animals here like horses,
We stop talking for a second only to hear the cries of a baby. It sounded as if the baby was right below actually hanging beneath the bridge. At the same it felt like someone was breathing on me, and the air got even colder than before. At the same time that this is going on, I look up to my friends and see that Kenley’s hair looks as if she had rubbed a balloon for hours. It looked like something out of a creepy Halloween movie. While this is all going on the car lights are still flashing at us.
(Suspense. SYNOPSIS: 60-year-old Anne Irwin is thankful that she still has an excellent memory, until a surgical procedure makes her look more like a curse.)
Maudire les actions du diable ! After years of working my fingers to the bone, this is all I get! The three people I valued most have left me. Ellen- my dear wife- passed away. My son – the one I trusted to be there for my family, after my time– has gone. Also my doll, my Mattie, with her sweet smile, her resilience as strong as a bull…Très bien! Qu'est-ce que je vais faire? My land, and my shattered family are all I have. I feel nothing… except shame, fear, and sleepless yearning for my loved ones. What bothers me most is … they all left me. Life would be so much easier with Lawton pulling the cart, Mattie looking after the younger ones and my precious Ellen… just staying here with me. I've been double-crossed by MY family!
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
“Straining his eyes, he saw the lean figure of General Zaroff. Then... everything went dark. Maggie woke up in her bed. “Finally woke up from that nightmare. Man… I miss my brother. Who was that person that my brother wanted to kill?” she looks at the clock and its 9:15am “Crap I’m late for work!” Maggie got in her car and drove to the hospital for work.
This poem 's expressive purpose is to show how detrimental jealousy can be. This poem shows how the duke was overtaken by his desire to control the duchess and became overtaken by insecurity, jealousy, and egotistical feelings. This poem shows how one can be driven by greed and jealousy to commit atrocities. The direct purpose of the duke 's monologue is to act as a warning to the representative of the count so that the duke would not marry another woman like his "last duchess". However, the poem 's influence extends father than this and readers can see Browning 's commentary on love, power, greed, and art.
Judy pov Judy had been sleeping yesterday after what happened it wasn’t that late and she still had classes to go to but, she didn’t, not with her face mark like that. Needless to say it was an awkward day as her and Nick were basically trapped together in the room. It had been two days
The rhythm of my morning walk to school is interrupted instantaneously by the torturing shriek of rubber tires skidding, only to be followed by the chilling screech of metal scraping metal. Down the street at the corner of St. Rose and Wyandotte, all eyes lock open in absolute shock at the tragic mess of a wrong turn. One cherry red Toyota truck had absorbed and spit out a silver Honda Civic. The surrounding air becomes smothered with a thick blend of the toxic fumes of gas and the cruel smell of charred rubber. Three young men race towards the wreck to rescue the victims trapped inside, as people take out their phones to shakily call 911. To the left, one car lays upside down, surrounded by a blanket of fragmented glass. To the right, there
"Good morning, Lady Charlotte." Yep, that's me. Just get rid of the fancy noble title. I may have come from nobles, but I can assure you that I am no lady. Also, I prefer to be called, "Charlie." I opened my blueish green eyes, coming face-to-face with my maid, Sidra. She was always very kind to me. Despite her being Muslim, and I a Christian. "Good morning." I responded with a kind smile. "I have laid out your beautiful long sleeve, blue dress. As you have a meeting with Earl Ciel Phantomhive this afternoon." Sidra informed as she pulled my blankets off me. "How so? What business do I have with him?" I asked, obviously confused as all hell. "Your father was business partners with his father," Sidra informed as she pulled open the lavender
‘I have been noticing Mr Collins more and more of late’ thought Charlotte Lucas. ‘ Although not the most amiable gentleman, he seems to be in want of a wife, and in good speed. I know it seems silly and that Mr Collins would not so much as look my way, but at 27 years, I myself am becoming older and more and more out of my marriage span with each passing day. If I do not marry soon, I worry that I will become an unwanted, old maid. Should I be asked my hand, I would gladly and hastily accept the offer from any man, no matter how un-agreeable he appears’.
I slowly trudged up the road towards the farm. The country road was dusty, and quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle. Only the clear, burbling sound of a wren’s birdsong sporadically broke the boredom. A faded sign flapped lethargically against the gate. On it, a big black and white cow stood over the words “Bent Rail Farm”. The sign needed fresh paint, and one of its hinges was broken. Suddenly, the distant roar of an engine shattered the stillness of that Friday afternoon. Big tires speeding over gravel pelted small stones in all directions. The truck stopped in front of the red-brick farmhouse with the green door and shutters. It was the large milking truck that stopped by every Friday afternoon. I leisurely passed by fields of corn, wheat, barley, and strawberries. The fields stretched from the gradient hills to the snowy mountains. The blasting wind blew like a bellowing blizzard. A river cut through the hilly panorama. The river ubiquitously flowed from tranquil to tempestuous water. Raging river rapids rushed recklessly into rocks ricocheting and rebounding relentlessly through this rigorous river. Leaves danced with the wind as I looked around the valley. The sun was trapped by smoky, and soggy clouds.
She opened my eyes to an entirely new world: a realm in which my suffering was relinquished and, at last, I was aware of the beauty and happiness that had been since hidden in my life. That was until she moved away. On the day in which she announced her departure, I clearly recall looking desperately into her eyes, pleading for her to stay: begging her to not leave me alone again. However, all I received in response was an young and innocent smile, enthused by the idea of leaving the dull and mundane Connecticut and entering the thrilling and exhilarating Florida. It felt as if before I even had the chance to conceptualize her eventual leaving, she was already gone: thousands of miles apart from a girl who had just lost the one thing in life that had kept her going: the one thing in life that allowed her to renounce her title of
I had driven home this way a thousand times before, but today would be different. The misty rain made the road slick as I steered the car through the slow, wide curve. It may have been the setting sun in my eyes, but it was probably a combination of the loud song on the radio and the slight yawn that escaped from my mouth. Regardless, a momentary distraction was all it took as the tires hit the damp gravel. The wet rubber and slick stones triggered the car to slide off the road to the right. In a panic, I jerked the wheel to the left, over-correcting the slide. Swerving across oncoming traffic, my car jumped over the drainage ditch and smashed down into a neighbor’s front yard. Continuing its dangerous journey, the car destroyed a lamp
The ruckus from the bottom of the truck is unbearable, because of the noise and excessive shaking. As we slowly climbed the mountain road to reach our lovely cabin, it seemed almost impossible to reach the top, but every time we reached it safely. The rocks and deep potholes shook the truck and the people in it, like a paint mixer. Every window in the truck was rolled down so we could have some leverage to hold on and not loose our grip we needed so greatly. The fresh clean mountain air entered the truck; it smelt as if we were lost: nowhere close to home. It was a feeling of relief to get away from all the problems at home. The road was deeply covered with huge pines and baby aspen trees. Closely examining the surrounding, it looks as if it did the last time we were up here.