My gut reaction was to drive the car directly into traffic. Just to end the misery and get the sleep I had been yearning for. Any other day the drive to my apartment would have taken five minutes; I made it in three. As I pulled up to the medieval Iron Gate in front of Board Walk, I called Joshua to deliver the grim news. He was still asleep and I almost didn't have the heart left to give the news in person. I skipped every step I could trying to get to the third floor. "Joshua! Wake up we got 6 minutes get the hell up!" He opens the door with the eyes of a defeated man. At that moment I know we had the same thought. "FUCK." We ran back into the living room to find out Dave already took the car to Chic-fil-a. I motioned towards Joshua’s phone my heart couldn't manage to make that call. "Hello, Mr. Brown" "Y’all are here?" "No, we don't have a car." "Do I care? Y’all got 20 minutes." "But you live 3 miles away." "Sounds like you better run." We grabbed a bike that we found at Strozier the week prior, Joshua rode handle bars for the first half mile and a half. My round on the handle bars sucked, there are a lot of speed bumps in that neighborhood. Every bump was a violent reminder that I was going through all of this to be even more uncomfortable. We arrive at what we affectionately called the castle. We called it that because of the stone brick walls outside and the fact that a moat formed in the dirt pile or front yard, he referred to it as one of those, every time it rained, there was a slight drizzle or the hose had a leak. All of the majesty owned by a tyrant, it seemed pretty fitting to me. We walk into the house and we are immediately met with hostility. Shouting about how lacksidasical our generation is and how we... ... middle of paper ... ...ded to tell. He told me how he got rid of our contact info and burned all the notes Mr. Brown had with our parent’s info on it. That was the last day we saw Mr. Brown and the last time we cried over a man. To this day I don’t drive near Tharpe Street strictly out of paranoia, he was our tormentor for over a month and clear reminder of why we didn’t like baseball. I learned that a fool is born every day and it just son happens that two of those fools became friends that summer. I have since ironically joined the same fraternity as Mr. Brown thankfully this was not his chapter. I am grateful to him for making my life so hard that nothing seems impossible nor too stressful to get accomplished. I am sill best friends with Joshua and this is a story he loves to tell to every new person we meet so I thought I would take on he carefree attitude and share it with you.
The Castle is a movie primarily about a family sticking together and their fight for the right to live in their own home. The Castle’s portrayal of family is both positive and negative.
The story pertaining to this castle I first heard in a coffee house on Capitol Hill, in Seattle, Washington. Capitol Hill is known for being the stomping grounds of a wide variety of people. There are bohemians, hippies, homeless people, drag queens, and lots of college students due to the fact that there are five colleges in the city of Seattle alone. It is also not so full of tourists, who spend more of their time at Pikes Place Market (also said to be haunted) and the Center. I spoke to the storyteller around two in the afternoon on Friday, March 23rd during my spring break. She works at a local hospital and is finishing up medical school. She is recently married, twenty-four years old, and she grew up in West Seattle. Her mom is Ukrainian and is the principal of an elementary school.
I woke up at six to shower and eat breakfast. We were out the door and 6:30 and off to Ashland, Nebraska. We had the hammer down only stopping in Ashland to grab three Red Bulls apiece. We chugged our energy drinks while driving a couple miles out of town to the raceway hoping to get awaken by the rush of the sugar. We parked our truck by our buddy Jacob after getting signed in and paying our entry fees. We made fun of Jacob for awhile for being such a die hard and having to be one of the first ones at the track. Setting up our canopy and unloading our bikes took about 5 minutes because we wanted to hurry up and walk the track. The track was a freaking mud pit. They had overwatered it. I was hoping that it would stay a little muddier after practice until the moto’s because I could out ride three-fourths of the guys in my class in the mud. After the track walk we all walked back to our trucks and got our gear on. The C riders were first to practice. The first kid to start up his bike just revved the piss out of it not letting it warm up like it should. We started shaking our heads because our dads taught us to respect your things and not mistreat them. Leaving our little camp
Sunrise: Thirty-seven people were housed in the Rowlandson garrison house. Abruptly gun shots were heard, three other houses were under attack. It was not long before the warriors turned to the Rowlandson's house. Amid a flurry of bullets, three men were killed. Suddenly the smell of smoke permeated the inside of the house; the attackers had succeeded in setting fire to it.
Racism affects everyone on Earth since people are all different. Leslie Marmon Silko wrote an essay called Fences Against Freedom. She was a person of mixed-ancestry who has faced racism very closely from childhood to adulthood. Early on She recalls being rejected from some school pictures, later as an adult, she was pulled over by Border Patrol officers all because of her ancestry. Leslie Marmon Silko points out that there is no race, but human race and; hence, racism should not exist. Silko was raised in her hometown where racism did not exist at all; people judged others by behavior and not by skin color, religion or origin. Nevertheless, coming out of her hometown environment racism was evident. People’s interactions were driven by attending to skin color, creed, ancestry and other biases. Racism affects everyone in the United States from foreigners to natives, as presented by Leslie Marmon Silko’s feelings of pride, disappointment, sympathy and anger as she confronts racism in the United States.
He was reluctant to do so but knowing he might get out he listened. As soon as he covered his face the door blew of the hinges and broke the window throwing glass everywhere. When he uncovered his eyes he saw nothing but smoke, after it cleared he could clearly see written on the wall outside "welcome to The Game". He thought this was all a nightmare trying to wake up he only ended up hurting himself from all of the pinches. After working his way through the hallways following the arrows, he got to the front door. He knew it would be locked but tried anyway and to his surprise it moved, but only an inch or so. Chained from the other side the door wouldn't come
...ndurance of poverty, as we witness how Walls has turned her life around and told her inspiring story with the use of pathos, imagery, and narrative coherence to inspire others around her (that if she can do it, so can others). Jeannette made a huge impact to her life once she took matters into her own hands and left her parents to find out what life has in store for her and to prove to herself that she is a better individual and that anything is possible. Despite the harsh words and wrongful actions of Walls’ appalling parents who engage her through arduous experiences, she remained optimistic and made it through the most roughest and traumatic obstacles of her life at the age of three. Walls had always kept her head held high and survived the hardships God put upon her to get to where she is today; an author with a best selling novel to tell her bittersweet story.
The city seemed less hectic here and a little less crowded. I had read online that the once murder capital of New York City was now the fourth safest neighbourhood behind the upper east and upper west sides. I unlocked the door into the lobby of the apartment, the lobby was small and had one wide stairwell at the back of the room. Aunt Allison's apartment was a third-floor apartment, but the third floor seemed to be less of a trek than I had expected. I hadn't been in this apartment before
As I hanged on tightly to the handle, I felt butterflies in my stomach and goosebumps on my body. Cars were speeding like bullets and turning lanes without a blinker, the roads were bumpy and uncomfortable to drive on. Lanes didn’t have designated lines for cars to determine which lane they were in. Traffic jam lasted about two hours or more and cars that were driving slowly were tailgated or passed. This was an alarming experience because driving in America is boring, unified, and strictly enforced. I will never be able to drive in Kenya because it’s way too complex for me to ever understand.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
So there I was, thundering (or carefully maneuvering) my way up Route 9. After a quick stop at the local police station to re-orient myself (as I missed a left turn), I pulled into the small parking lot of the small, two-story, stucco-and-shingled building with an enormous satellite dish on it. I double-checked my questions, made sure my recorder was working, and headed in. I sat in the small waiting area as the secretary went to fetch Simon. Palms sweaty, I rubbed them on my jeans to calm myself and let out a little nervous energy.
The car was jerkily pulled back into the current lane. Time stopped, I was panting as if I’d just gotten 1st place in the Olympics for running. My heart squeezing so thin and small it would fit in a petri dish. I didn’t know what to do next my hand gripped the wheel awkwardly as life went by as a blur. The only sound being my driving instructor yelling maniacally in the background. I could feel it set in again... the disappointment. I would never be able to get past this first day on the road. The screaming in the background deflated me. I could never do
The reality is, it doesn 't matter the events of that day or the reason for their occurrence. It doesn 't matter the anger, terror, or despair I felt following the accident. Although my heart is in a constant battle with my earthly desires and feelings on the subject, the truth is, none of those things
slowly drive away, I continue to look at their house in my rearview mirror. I