It was a normal July day in Esterdale, a small town in southeast Nebraska. The temperature was warm, even in the shade, and the constant drone of the summer cicadas provided a constant buzz. With a total population of just under a hundred, things were mostly quiet in this town, with the exception of the insects’ constant chatter. Hardly anyone new came into town, and hardly anyone left once they got there. This however, was to change that very night.
Mark Noshwell had been driving for just under nine hours straight. His eyes were heavy like lead and his body slumped limply behind the wheel. He found himself struggling to keep himself awake and soon realized that if he did not pull over for the night, he would likely swerve off the road. He saw a rusted sign in the distance and decided to pull over next to it. He could faintly make out in the darkness of night, the word “Esterdale”. He could not see much of anything, but he assumed there was a town beyond the sign. He
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He meandered down the road, expecting to see some merchants or really anything, but there was nothing. He had figured this was a very small town, but he had not expected this. It was practically deserted. The sun was setting as he walked to his small living area, and out of nowhere, a young woman ran past him. He tried stop her to see what was going on, but she was quick and didn’t look back. He kept on walking to his hotel, wondering about the girl and why she was alone and was in such a hurry. When he arrived at his room, he took a short nap so that he would not be tired for his job that night, whatever it was. When he woke up, the small clock in his room read 9:30 pm. He lumbered out of his bed and started walking over to the farm where he and the farmer were supposed to meet. The air was cooler than during the day, but not cold. It was actually a fairly nice night for a walk. He went to the field to meet the
Wexler, L. (2005, October 23). Darkness on the Edge of Town. In The Washington Post. Retrieved November 20, 2013, from http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/10/20/AR2005102001715.html
As many people would know, standing up for what you believe in is very strenuous and it takes a lot of courage. This is clearly shown in the movie Secondhand Lions, directed by Tim McCanlies, when a fourteen-year-old Walter is dropped off by his dishonest and irresponsible mother to visit his two uncles (Garth and Hub) during the summer. The only reason why his Mae, his mother dropped Walter off was so he could find the millions of dollars stashed away with his two uncles, but when he figures this out, he is shocked of the betrayal of his mother, so he decides to change his personality. In the end, Walter changes from his old timid self to someone bold and ready for the world.
“At this time in my life I lived in a very old town house, where I often heard unexplainable noises in the attic. One night, when I was about 11, my parents went out to a party, leaving me all alone. The night was stormy, with crashes of lightening and thunder outside. Having nothing to do, I fell asleep after eating too much ice cream. All of a sudden, my alarm clock goes off in the middle of the night, reading 3 o’clock. I’m wondering why ...
“It was a large, beautiful room, rich and picturesque in the soft, dim light which the maid had turned low. She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mourning notes without promise, devoid even of hope. She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro, down its whole length, without stopping, without resting. She carried in her hands a thin handkerchief, which she tore into ribbons, rolled into a ball, and flung from her. Once she stopped, and taking off her wedding ring, flung it upon the carpet. When she saw it lying there she stamped her heel upon it, striving to crush it. But her small boot heel did not make an indenture, not a mark upon the glittering circlet.
The small legs that whisked back and forth in the open space of the vehicle were full of energy. The young girl spent the day with the two people she admired the most. A bigger version of herself sat in the passenger seat with her husband driving next to her. They laughed over conversation. Every so often, the girl would stick thin fingers against her mother’s shoulder to receive her attention. She would say something trivial and obvious, but her mother would still entertain her. She absorbed every phrase her daughter said as if each filled her with a tremendous joy and was the greatest thing ever spoken. Her mother had selected a black dress for her today with a large white ribbon tied around her midsection. Her hair had been combed back in two braids so that the tips were touching her shoulder blades. They were coming home late from a Christmas party at church.
Hallelujah woke up from her soft cozy bed. Same time for school everyday, even on the weekends. It was a part of her routine and she was so used to it. Sleeping in on Saturdays and Sundays were very difficult. When she got up, she shivered the cold in her room hit her like a slap after doing something wrong. She looked at the brown sack that held a secret she was dying to find out but Hallelujah had to head over to Lake Michigan. She headed over to her bathroom across the hall and used the pail of water to wash her face and scrub her teeth. She used the towel hanging on the rack to pat her face, dripping with water. Hallelujah put on her Saturday outfit, a typical long sleeve shirt with a gray, long fluffy jacket and put on some pantalettes. She headed downstairs with the sack in her hand and a tissue in another. As she headed downstairs, smelled a large whiff of Miss Tilly’s scrambled eggs topped with cheddar cheese, toasted bread, shreds of bacon, a sausage link and a cup of coffee. There was a side of strawberries too.
Ben forced open his eyes to look at the boy who was calling out to him, but no one was there. The pain from his head went away and the wind died back down to a calmer state. He jumped up from the bench startled, and spun around to see if he could catch a glimpse of the child who called him by name. As he was looking around the town he saw it in a different light. He gazed back at the road he just had walked down and around at the playground. The feeling of uncertainty was replaced with familiarity and it was as though he had been here before. The wind caught his attention again but this time he let the whispers of the town's people direct him to where he was needed. He caught the boy's voice in the wind as he was calling out to him in a louder, panicked tone that he was all too familiar with. Ben broke out into a sprint although he was not sure what he was going to do when he reached the boy. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind; it was his profession to help people in need and this boy was obviously calling out for his help. Ben's legs seemed to know their way along the alleys as he dipped and dodged through the dead town. He came to a jetty on the edge of the town overlooking a lake that gave the town its name; he could tell that people used to admire its glory. It was now a deserted, cloudy lake that contained a deep sadness that immobilised Ben immediately. His head started throbbing again as he
When he arrived back home, he ran back to his room and shut his door. He put his new friend on his night stand so it would be right next to him as he slept. He brought his homework over to his bed to keep his goldfish company. He didn’t feel as lonely as he had before. He didn’t really mind doing his homework anymore. A little spark had ignited his fire again. He worked harder than he had ever worked before and he finished his paper in record time.
The warm sun emerged over the top of the hill. Its warm rays stretched across the field, drying the dew. As if on cue, the rooster roared out a loud “COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOO!” summoning Farmer Joe out bed. He stumbled through the screen door in dusty work boots, boxers, and white tank. His long hair was disheveled and as he slumped into the rickety, porch rocking chair, he guzzled down 3 beers in a matter of seconds. Farmer Joe closed his eyes and let the warm sunrays wash over his skin, hoping it would subdue his hangover. As he was starting to drift back into dreamland, his wife, Myrna, came busting through the screen door. With a screeching “YEEEHAWWW” she karate kicked the door open, yielded a rifle up to her shoulder, and fired a round into the open yard. Myrna was dressed in some cutoff jean shorts, the left side longer than the right, a pink camo sleeveless shirt, and work boots. She had an athletic build and stood on the porch with a lit
A short walk to Meadow Pond: following the stone wall up the dirt road, FOR SALE sign next to an empty house with a clear-cut yard. Struggling to escape the perpetual thoughts that always seem to pull me in – where do we go from here? – a golden smile in the afternoon sunlight – branded to my mind like a red hot iron, trying to dismiss them. Looking up at the road ahead of me, I smile – only thoughts. The cold air hits the skin of my face and I stick my hands in my pockets. Pete, our neighbor, pops out of the bend in the road, walking his old black lab. “No camera today?” he shouts out. “No, just a notebook,” I reply. “Do you have a lot of homework?” he asked concerned. “It’s good work.”
-Pulling into the parking lot I gave the place a once or twice over, checked out the surroundings. It appeared to be a motel with a diner around the side, I’d park toward the outskirts of the parameter so that I could keep the vehicle concealed. Stepping out I’d take another quick look around, there wasn’t anything that seemed out of the ordinary so I retrieved my lighter and lit the cigarette that was hanging loosely from my lips. The embers would glow a cherry neon red in the darkness, exhaling the smoke I pulled the hood of my jacket up over my head and began to move. Every movement was graceful, but every step had purpose behind it. Entering the main office I’d find an old man waiting behind the desk, he was completely uncaring of my presence, caught up in his encore western channel film festival I would speak out, my voice hard edged yet smooth all at the same time. [color=400000]” Give me a room old man…...
May stood in the kitchen hovering over the stove, steam rising into the vent as she cooked some eggs for herself.May's arm laid on her hip as she scrambled the egg's on the plate besides her and picking up the plate turning off the stove, and moving the pan off the heat. May's eyes looked over at the forest through her window she frowned it rained, she wondered if he was okay.May wandered to the table and slipped the warm food onto the marble tabletop and sat down and started to eat, unable to not think about him she mumbled,"I should go make himself something....since he won't join me in this house...it's the least I can do."May finished eating her eggs and got up cleaned her plate and stuck it in the dishwasher and doing the same with the pan.May wandered around her house grabbing a basket and placed it in the
I woke up in the morning to see my little sister Ruth. She had sea-green eyes like my mom and dark brown cinnamon colored wavy hair like my dad. Caught to my surprise, the window was ajar and I could smell the awful malodor surrounding the streets. When I looked out of the window, I saw dead-unattended corpses who needed to be buried in the cemetery which was located down the alleyway. I looked away in disgust. “ Mary! Are you awake? For if you are, then come down and help me with breakfast,” yelled my mom. “Uh…,” I sighed to myself. Just another normal day in this boring little town of Abington. Next to me, my sister started to stir awake. I gently put my hand on her back and started to soothe her back to her soporific. After my sister’s breathing finally started to slow down, I got out of my mattress even
Sitting in the back seat between two towering piles of clothes and snacks we drive up the abandoned streets of Adell. I see vast open fields of corn and dense wooded forest filled with life, along with the occasional, towering grain house. We pull into a dry, dusty, driveway of rock and thriving, overgrown weeds. We come up to an aged log cabin with a massive crab apple tree with its sharp thorns like claws. The ancient weeping willow provides, with is huge sagging arms, shade from the intense rays of the sun. Near the back of the house there is a rotten, wobbly dock slowly rotting in the dark blue, cool water. Near that we store our old rusted canoes, to which the desperate frogs hop for shelter. When I venture out to the water I feel the thick gooey mud squish through my toes and the fish mindlessly try to escape but instead swim into my legs. On the lively river banks I see great blue herring and there attempt to catch a fish for their dinner. They gracefully fly with their beautiful wings arching in the sun to silvery points.
The dark, black sky was covered with a million bright shining stars. The moon shimmered above a small town in the suburbs of London. The gentle wind swept past the bare trees and danced with the leaves below it, creating a colourful array of orange, yellow, red and brown. Across the street, a light was on in a small house where a tall, dark haired woman stood, talking to her two children Nicola and Erin. While she was tucking them in Erin asked, “Mummy, will you tell us a story please?” “I’m sorry but its time to go to sleep now,” she said. “Please mummy,” begged Nicola “Okay but only one story,” she replied “This story is about how I got lost when I was a young girl and how I met an incredible man. It all began when…”