“Take this in hand again, Gilbert. You don’t need the stones anymore. You may not need us either,” Trunk said. “Whatever you do now, don’t interact with what you see. It may shift time if you do.” Gilbert wasn’t given time to respond. The feather glowed bright red from his touch. Visions of his friends formed inside Gilbert’s head. Mr. Pinkerton moved David Balducci, Pamela Johnson, and Stephanie Peterson into holding cells. His Uncle Arnold was bound secure on a stretcher, bleeding from wounds after he was tortured. Gilbert wanted to scream but couldn’t. He stood taking in the horror as if he were there in the same dungeon room. Dazed, Gilbert grasped at his throat as Prod Silvers’ skinny frame lifted his Uncle Arnold off the gurney with his magic wand’s power. The glow sliced at the opened gashes, making his Uncle’s wounds bubble. The searing sound made Gilbert put his hands to his ears. No screams came from his uncle. He lay limp. The wounds opened and closed while gray rodents entered into the openings. His skin moved in waves as the critters found their way into his body. Uncle Arnold’s eyes snapped open. His face grimaced oddly, in an evil manner. His arms lifted, snapping the restraints as if they were useless dried up and decayed rags. In one sudden heave, he sat up to shift around with his legs dangling off the gurney. Gilbert jumped from fear. He felt two hands hold his shoulders while two other sweaty palms pressed the red Phoenix feather in Gilbert’s hands. He shook, stymied by his friends’ horrified expressions, as they stared at Prod slapping his Uncle Arnold on the back. *** Uncle Arnold coughed then repositioned his body before standing. He stood taller than normal. His shoulders were wider. Muscles popped out of ... ... middle of paper ... ...e critters made their way into their bodies yet?” “No, my Evaluator. They have resisted the parasitic excavation.” “Hmm, interesting. I wonder how they’re managing to do it?” “Nothing opens their skin, no matter how sharp the blade,”coughed out Prod. “And our illustrious Phoenix, Mr. Porter, here has had no effect on them either?” “None, they seem to be impervious to fire.” “Well it will all end soon.” Baker Dan’s body stiffened with glee. *** Gilbert gulped. In his belly was a knot, he was sure it was more, a whole rope perhaps. He dropped the red Phoenix feather and glared at it as though it was a trick. The sudden understanding of where the gray rat came from, which tormented Trunk, made him want to vomit. “Trunk, this is too much for him,” said Orson. “He’s pale.” “Yes, but…” Trunk stopped cold. He missed grabbing Gilbert. Gilbert fell to the ground unconscious.
The majority of people waste food on a daily basis. In fact, in the U.S. alone there is an estimate that over half of the food produced goes uneaten; meanwhile there are people who are in need of food, and it ultimately goes to waste (Dockterman). For example, in his essay, “On Dumpster Diving,” author Lars Eighner writes about his experiences of dumpster diving with his pet dog, during his years of homelessness. According to Eighner, much of the food and materials he came across in the dumpsters were in usable shape, and many items were new. Clearly there needs to be a change in American food waste, in current and, hopefully not so much in, future generations. In order to bring about change in this misuse of food, Americans need to be conscious
The Leader gasp, feeling a sudden hot sensation, burning through his body, and releases a painful moan, when dropping to his knees. He peeks over his shoulder to Gottlieb with a look of betrayal and blood seeping into the fabric of his clothing, creating a large circle. He keels over with his eyes wide open.
Vance, “Here the victim was tortured for fifty minutes by red-hot irons being thrust against his quivering
"On Dumpster Diving", is a rather odd but interesting piece of writing by Lars Eighner. He is a great writer and craftsman of the senates. Eighner's, "On Dumpster Diving", is considered the best chapter of the book, "Travels with Lizbeth." Eighner describes in his owns words, and tells us about his experiences with dumpster diving and even informs us about wasteful habits of the American population. Eighner conveys, "Students throw out canned goods and staples at the end of the semesters and when they give up college at midterm."(par.23). When he became homeless, he had no other choice but to make a living out of dumpster diving. Through his experiences, he uses ethical, logical and humorous approach to inform his readers about dumpster diving.
“So those bites were really given to you buy carnivores?” Gilbert asked. He liked watching the Discovery Channel too much.
In this passage Poe describes a plague that death uses to take its victims. The horrific manner in which the disease appears -- bleeding at the pores, sharp pains, and seizures--can be related back to episodes in...
Blood seeped from his shoulder, saturating his plaid shirt as he made a futile effort to stand. “Get the hell away from me.”
“On Dumpster Diving” by Lars Eighner and “Two Ways to Belong in America” by Bharati Mukheriee are both extremely thought-provoking texts that chronicle society’s treatment of marginalized people in the United States. Although, the speakers are of different ethnicities, nationalities and come from very different backgrounds they both share the common perspective of feeling left behind by society and excluded socioeconomically. On Dumpster Diving explores the financial hardships of living in America and the treatment of the lower class, mass consumption and waste. It highlights the theme of reckless gluttony that is prevalent in American society. Whereas, Two Ways to Belong explores the treatment of immigrants a cultural upheaval, mass division
Adrian’s grip on Vanessa’s breasts caused her to whimper slightly, though she did not shut her mouth, for the mixture of pain and pleasure was not enough to keep her from doing her duty. Vanessa had done this more times then she could remember, so she was able to time her strokes perfectly, so that Adrian’s cock erupted as close as she could get it to her awaiting mouth. With her mouth open Vanessa caught rope after rope of Adrian’s pearly cum. Once Adrian had finished panting her chest and face with his seed, Vanessa turned her head upward so that Adrian could watch as she gulped down the seed he had spilled into her mouth.
A scurry of little white rats came rushing out; led by one that in command. Gilbert couldn’t count them all.
Kino hunches over the ledge of the cave, looking down upon the trackers, the sound of evil ringing deeply in his ear. The light of their fire was illuminating their face, casting shadows across the stone wall above. Kino slowly crawled over the bumpy rock. He latched his arm around the vine that was crawling its was up the mountain. Slowly he lowered himself down from the ledge and pushed his bare chest again the cold face of the rock.
“Oh my god!” He laid me down on the ground. After that I could only hear faint shouts and it was all I could do to keep my eyes open. My head was swimming like crazy and it seemed all my senses were failing. “Bring the bandages and the first aid kit!”, I heard a distant call. But even through my lack of vision I could see that the call came from a distance of no more than 2 feet of my face. “Keep your eyes open”, “it’s just a little cut” I heard. A sting and a splash indicated the washing of my hand to clean the blood. Then a pang of pain and the soft dab of cotton. My finger tightened as a I felt cloth being tied around it. As I lifted my hand to try and look at the damage, all I could see was fabric that seemed almost dyed in crimson. This was quickly replaced by a new bandage and by now the bleeding had fortunately
his uncle. Trying to remain calm and not be overcome by rage and betrayal, he starts
I raised my arms in anger, ?I?m talking to you.? Instantly his arm swung swiftly, like steel, it impacted on mine. Fear bulged from my eyeballs, he grasped both my hands and heaved me up. My feet dangled in the air.
Quick to react, one girl steps forward from the crowd and takes control of the situation. Preventing Al from further injury by grabbing both sides of his head, the brave young senior moves with the seizing boy, fighting to hold him steady. She does not cry nor do anything but instruct a teacher to “YES, call an ambulance.” Al thrashes, not breathing, upon the white speckled linoleum.