“Creek.” I jumped and looked around for the source of the eery sound. That’s when I saw It. The door. I hadn’t seen It before. The door wasn’t there last night. Cautiously, I turned the handle. The sand, warm and white, leading you to the glimmering beach. Then look far ahead, and there’s an isolated island. A pile of fruits, juicy and ripe, await you. Just take a few steps, and you’re there. But no. A tugging sensation envelops you the moment you try to take a step. And no matter how hard you try, you keep coming back to where you landed. You’re stuck. For a while, if not forever. This is B.O.D., and it’s my new home. I was a normal kid once. I went to school, played with friends, and danced a lot. Then I almost died. (flashback) I was at my dance studio and was learning aerials. It was my first time and the moment I kicked my legs up, I knew my position was wrong. “Crash!” …show more content…
I couldn’t move my head. I could feel my consciousness slipping away, then things went black. When I woke, I was at B.O.D. and had no idea who I was. Then I remembered everything. From the 8th grade bullies to the 6th-grade buddies. None of them were real friends, but they were nicer than the rest. Oh, the rest of them. They tucked away my school supplies, hid my clothes, and gave innocent faces to the teachers. Here, wherever here was, I could start new. With no bullies or fake friends. No one. It was all too perfect. It was B.O.D. Brink of Death. That was when I saw (and heard) the
“Just hold on babe we will be their in a moment.Now turn around so I can put this blind fold on you,”he said stubernly.
I stand in the corner of Granville Island’s pavilion, watching a street performer and breathing in the smell of freshly baked bread from the bakery behind me. Mom and Dad were standing in the super long line for the ferry back to Vancouver, but I know that there’s plenty of time for doing anything because the line’s so long. “Hey, Mom? Is the line shorter?” I call out.
Hughes ran along the hot sandy beach of Oahu, Hawaii. Oahu was a secret military that the enemies had found. It held missiles and experimental weaponry. The enemies had found it and captured it, he was there to take it back. He was just let out of a reinforcement helicopter onto the beach and it was already dangerous. He was trying to reach the front line to push the opposition back, but it was all for nothing he was stuck in the back. Hughes was thinking about how he could move up get to the front. As he figured out how to get to the base, he saw a large tank come up a dune with two smaller tanks trailing behind it. He knew this would be a hard battle considering they were now out gunned by the three massive tanks and two-thousand soldiers.
Behind him, a door swung open and shut tightly a moment later before the jingle of keys managed to reach his ears thanks to the eerie silence of the unfamiliar neighborhood. Perhaps that was due to the time, he thought. Either way, he paid the noise no mind, settling into the hell on earth he was placed in.
Out of all the places to be born, why did it have to be this horrible place? It's so boring here! All I ever do is royal lessons on how to drink tea properly or how to walk like the "soon to be King" I am. Tch, who ever said I wanted to be King of this wreched kingdom? I, as the Westington people, know completely what I am capable of and but of course, what is a King who's subjects aren't loyal or supportive in any manor?
It has been a long day of researching and I believe I deserve a break. Tiredly, I manage to make it to the couch where I just let my body sink and fall. I begin to doze off. Just as my muscles begin to relax and my vision starts to blur, I begin to hear my son, George, yell “Hey Dad! Dad!
They beckoned to him, the trees. Their knotted arms rose ever upwards, stretching towards the sky as if impersonating conductors. An orchestra of birdsong – unlike any other, broke out from within the thicket, wavering like the flame from Alastair’s lantern. His hair combed into a neat part; small, vexed mouth, and pale skin revealed his habit of remaining indoors. A calm young boy; but his drawn features and half lidded eyes bore the stamp of unutterable weariness, and a disgruntled expression hovered round his mouth. However, his eyelids stood as if in shock, legs moving in response. Lifting after another, his thick rimmed glasses nodding as he broke into a sprint, approving of his find.
I hear the movement of the bottle swishing and the cabinet opening. I make quick and quiet movements and retreat to “my” room. When I hear Uncle Chris’ door close, I wait a few minutes until I hear the telltale snores. I get back up and make my way to the bathroom, nervously turning the light on and opening the
She felt cold, dreary, damp, she tried to open her eyes but something was stopping them from doing so, it was almost like her eyes were not responding to her brain. Consequently, she thought they were frozen but all the sudden, just like that they popped open. The girl sat up. Looking around she realized she was in a tent, there were cots around her but she for some reason she was not in one.
The night was as clear as the day, darkness never fell on Blessed Island. I peek out my window and look at the never ending fields of orchids. The sun was blazing down in the distance, and it blinded me but I didn’t mind. The tall wild grasses were swaying in the light breeze and it was calm; outside and inside my mind.
But it was coming from our living room, it was almost like it was having it’s own conversation with itself. I went downstairs to check it even though I was scared out of my wits. I saw something. It was a woman, she was just sitting there in the middle of our living room talking to no one but herself. Then I got a little closer and I started to hear what she was saying.
Mollie stared at the lapping waves, watching the inky darkness lap at the ship. With every moment that passed, the little voice in the back of her head grew louder urging her to jump. The fall into the sea wouldn’t kill her, no the beast within it would. The sun slowly slipped from the sky casting shadows across the deck.
“Okay Max, it’s your turn. Climb on in,” the captain said as he broke the silence on the boat. It was clear that my turn was at that moment, but I didn’t respond. “Max!” he shouted abruptly.
he sea was pale and still on that overcast morning. Not a single trace of sunlight penetrated through the thin dense white clouds, as a thick fog slowly rolled in over the still, silent once bright turquiouse waters. It was silent and flat as glass; gleaming with an almost faint silvery light. The wind was quiet as well. Even the gulls and birds whom flew around early in the morning searching for food were quiet as well.
My feet touched the sand as water rushed around my knees, but no higher. placed my hand over my eyes to shield against the blinding light as I looked slowly around me. A tropical island. Trees higher than the tallest building in London loomed over me. The sandy beach went for about five feet before it changed into an unforgiving landscape of rocks, under growth, and all scores of insects and crabs.