Jimothy Collard walked down a vegetated, moldy, wooden path leading to his villa. It was the night of the third week of November and Jimothy came home from a long day of work. His house was about a quarter mile out in the marsh and his legs would ache every time he’d walk through it. He had no car because he had one job that could feed him, pay the shack, and his dog’s necessities. He was a skinny young man, forking for Vinny Gustavo, at an Italian bakery called “ V Bread”. He slithered through his house and slumped onto his bed. He thought and thought about quitting his job because it was a pain to work there. He whipped up some porridge and got a small portion of dog food for Bubb. They ate in silence, listening to the tall grass, swaying back and forth from the strong wind. …show more content…
He couldn’t get his mind off of Vinny. How he hated him so much, it was like he was a kid and Vinny wa broccoli. He filled his brain with endless amounts of negative thoughts of how he despised Vinny. He kept on telling himself how terrible his paycheck, his hours, and his position of the job were. He stared off into space wondering “why” in general. His anger overflowed him, but he hid it from his dog, because Bubb would yelp and whimper. It was around 11:30 pm when a knock was made on his front door. Jimothy perused through his house and grabbed his dull and rusty steel blade from his closet. He knew no one would know know were he lived, so at once he thought it was a criminal. He had a gut feeling it was someone worse than Vinny so he had his blade by his side. He knew what had to be done. He opened the door slowly and gingerly and hid behind the door itself. The shadowed figure slid in with something sharp in it’s hand. Jimothy pounced on the mysterious human and slashed at it with his blade. His anger bled out of him, making him a demonic, immortal beast. He stabbed, gutted, kicked, and
It was a village on a hill, all joyous and fun where there was a meadow full of blossomed flowers. The folks there walked with humble smiles and greeted everyone they passed. The smell of baked bread and ginger took over the market. At the playing grounds the children ran around, flipped and did tricks. Mama would sing and Alice would hum. Papa went to work but was always home just in time to grab John for dinner. But Alice’s friend by the port soon fell ill, almost like weeds of a garden that takes over, all around her went unwell. Grave yards soon became over populated and overwhelmed with corpse.
The day started with clear blue skies and not a cloud in the sight. The only noise that you could hear was a concert given by the nearby crickets, and a lonely bull frog singing nearby in unison. As the evening passes on a sharp snoring noise can be heard muffled softly.
The window was cold to the touch. The glass shimmered as the specks of sunlight danced, and Blake stood, peering out. As God put his head to the window, at once, he felt light shining through his soul. Six years old. Age ceased to define him and time ceased to exist. Silence seeped into every crevice of the room, and slowly, as the awe of the vision engulfed him, he felt the gates slowly open. His thoughts grew fluid, unrestrained, and almost chaotic. An untouched imagination had been liberated, and soon, the world around him transformed into one of magnificence and wonder. His childish naivety cloaked the flaws and turbulence of London, and the imagination became, to Blake, the body of God. The darkness lingering in the corners of London slowly became light. Years passed by, slowly fading into wisps of the past, and the blanket of innocence deteriorated as reality blurred the clarity of childhood.
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
Thomas lived with his family in a two story house in Windy Hill. He had a little brother names Frankie and a dog named Max. One autumn morning, Thomas jumped out of bed and stared out the window at the quiet cobblestone streets below. Leaves the colors of a brilliant sunset glided and danced along the streets edge, playing a rustling tune. Thomas smiled, he couldn’t wait to see the vending trucks pulling up outside, and the town folks hurrying about as they prepared the streets for the Festival Of Ghouls.
After a rough day at the office, Mike arrived arrived home tired, and hungry. After dinner Mike went to his office before going out to the patio. Louise knew by his behavior that, something was wrong, and waited until the children finished their homework before joining him. When she sat down beside him, without saying a word he got up, went to the living room, turned on the TV, but didn’t watch it, which was what he usually did when he had something on his mind.
Two days later, early in the morning we say goodbye to Gilbert's grandmother and in the company of the grandfather, a woodcutter and his wife settled us in the wagon pulled by the two horses from the farm, and grandfather, explained to us that we were a family in his way to a nearby village to a family funeral. The trip made on routes passing between farms in the region until we come to a village which we pass through and arrived at a farm where two young women, were waiting for us. There we say goodbye to Gilbert‘s Grandpa to the woodcutter and his wife, and they told us that these two young women wouldbe responsible of us and, would lead us to the following stage The Girls gave us to eat and they hid us in the high spot of the stable one
When the sky started to grow dark, and the clock struck quarter to seven, he left his house and set off towards town hall. The town was a strange shade of blue, glowing in the twilight, and there was no one on the streets. Instead of street lamps, the wide avenues of Golden Oaks were lit by small braziers that lined the sidewalks. They burned a bright orange against the blue of the evening. The walk was short, and the night was warm, but still Jeb dreaded it. He was already half asleep, and he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. But he knew that he had to go. The feast was in his honour, and everyone had been so nice to him. This is the perfect town, Jeb thought. I’m so glad to get away from all that trouble, and be able to live in a quiet town.
One of the things I've seen is that the vast majority does not take a seat. They come in, get their beverage and go. The ones that take a seat stay any longer than it takes to devour their beverage. The beverage is only an accidental buy. Surely not the reason they arrive. Large portions of the general population who come in as a gathering are grinning when they enter. Half the same number of is grinning when they clear out. Individuals who come in alone commonly aren't grinning by any stretch of the imagination. There were a greater number of gentlemen than young ladies sitting without anyone else's input, and the general population who were talking in gatherings of a few were for the most part young ladies. The vast majority who strolled
Despite the seemingly perpetual heat, work had been alright so far. Customers had an average amount of patience and tips were (shockingly) better than average for a Tuesday night — and it certainly helped the weather had cooled from a sweltering ninety-five to a much more manageable seventy-eight. It was the first time in over a week Jonah would be leaving work in a decent mood — but it wouldn’t stop the overwhelming weariness creeping behind his eyelids. And tonight? God, he had a paper to do tonight. Something he couldn’t just bullshit forty-five minutes before it was due. And that meant there was only one option — paying the coffee shop across the street from Pizza Hut a visit.
Frost paused to look at Wolf and Leopard, then turned back to the remaining Iraqis, firing his weapon in three-round controlled bursts.
There was always a new horizon to conquer for an intelligent species. The first was the domination of small areas of land. Those small areas expanded into larger areas, and soon a dominant species claimed dominion over their entire planet. When space travel first became possible, this process had repeated itself. At first they made small colonies on neighboring planets, and moons. Over the years the galaxy and beyond had been surveyed. Technology had evolved to a point of where the entire Local Group, all 54 galaxies, millions of light years under control.
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.
I wearily drag myself away from the silken violet comforter and slump out into the living room. The green and red print of our family’s southwestern style couch streaks boldly against the deep blues of the opposing sitting chairs, calling me to it. Of course I oblige the billowy haven, roughly plopping down and curling into the cushions, ignoring the faint smell of smoke that clings to the fabric. My focus fades in and out for a while, allowing my mind to relax and unwind from any treacherous dreams of the pervious night, until I hear the telltale creak of door hinges. My eyes flutter lightly open to see my Father dressed in smart brown slacks and a deep earthy t-shirt, his graying hair and beard neatly comber into order. He places his appointment book and hair products in a bag near the door signaling the rapid approaching time of departure. Soon he is parading out the door with ever-fading whispers of ‘I love you kid,’ and ‘be good.’
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.