We landed in Seattle, the airport wasn't very crowed, and smelt of fast food, the small airport matched the small airplane we flew on. I looked over at my brothers, the twins, Dimitri and Vladimir, there handsome faces contoured into a look of disgust. Then I looked to my father, Lucius, he was smiling brightly, his bright blue eyes scanning his surroundings, his smile never faded. It was hard to comprehend a reason to why we would leave our home in Texas. I was born and raised in Waxahachie, Texas and I truly loved my hometown. My friends and family all there, and the heritage in the town was remarkable. To leave my old Victorian home was unbearable to do, being raised in the same house for seventeen years, to know every crack in a wall, which steps squeaked when you stepped on them. To think that your childhood home was gone and that some other family was living in it, and that they would soon find out the wonderful quirks the house had.
As I stared at my surroundings, my brothers pulled me along, they both took my hands in there own, and the three of walked toward our father as he stood smiling by our car. The three of us looked at each other, our father was never this cheerful. We shrugged it off and continued onward toward our Father. He was cheerful through the entire car ride to Forks. Forks; a tiny town I'm positive no one has heard about. I had been to Forks once when I was thirteen, with my mother, we were visiting my Grandfather whom I only met that one time. He was dying of prostate cancer, and that's when I found out were my mother was born, and the reason why she had left. I guess being stuck in a small town with her family wasn't good enough for her, and she wanted a real life, career and wanted her children to b...
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... you seen Dimitri? I can't find him anywhere." Finally coming into my room, looking around for his twin.
"I think he's outback reading." I said, as I walked out of my bedroom. "This house is massive, Vlad." I said as we walked through the long hallway, and down the long flight of stairs.
"It is isn't it? Ahh, me and Dimitri like it though. Finally got my own room." He said placing a loving kiss on my head, I stood at the end of the stares. "I think dad wanted to introduce us to someone." Vlad took my hand, and led me into my fathers office, were Dimitri was already sitting comfortably on the couch.
Vlad and took our seats next to him. I didn't believe my eyes, my father sat in his chair with a tiny women with brown hair and black eyes, she smiled happily as she sat on my fathers knee with his arm wrapped around his waist.
"Kids, this is Maria. My fiancé."
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.
“We just want to see it, that’s all.” “You sure he’s here?” One voice seemed to come from the room on the sofa. “Yeah, he stays here every night.” “There’s another room over there; I’m going to take a look.
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...
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
"A Trip to the Moon" is considered as the first science fiction film in cinema history. Taking into account that the movie was created in 1902, Georges Melies managed to create a true masterpiece of the classic black-and-white cinematography. Scripts for most of the episodes were borrowed from the famous novels. Jules Verne's "From the Earth to the Moon" provided the image of the space capsule and giant cannon; most of the lunar episodes with blizzard, descent to the lunar crater, battle with selenites, arrival to the ocean bottom, were taken from "The First Men in the Moon", written by Herbert George Wells. The clarity and completeness of the plot, the vibrant costumes and decorations, and the special effects in "A Trip to the Moon" captured my attention and taught me about human notions about the world in the early 20th century.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
As my family piled into our car for our four-hour drive, I sincerely hoped my brothers wouldn’t ruin the best chance that we’ve had in a long time. They were already arguing about who got what video game, and were not making my mom and dad feel any better about going. We were going to Illinois, to Chicago, to be even more specific. Chicago was the city I’d been dreaming about visiting for a long time. (Well, that and New York.) I could not believe that my parents were getting out of their comfort zone and taking us to a big city.
I can’t remember ever living anywhere before living on Lantern Drive. It was a cozy neighborhood and everyone knew each other… which was also a downside when drama arose. The street was a cul-de-sac consisting of about twenty houses, I could tell you who lived in each house. My living arrangements were different than most kids in my town, but I didn’t mind. When you’re young the differences in your life don’t strike you as being a problem, which is quite lovely. I lived with my Step-Grandmother and my Grandfather. I called them “Mawmaw” and “Papa”. I know that you’re supposed to spell it “Pawpaw” but it will never be that to me. The house was small, old, and run down, but it has been
It was a dark cold night in December. Opening the door to their house, the den sat quiet as usual, but something else was different. Walking to the living room, I did not hear a voice that always greeted me with joy. There was no room for joy, or laughter anymore. When I sat down, my Pa Pa’s bed sat across from me. I could see the bones through his skin, the bagginess of his white t-shirt, and the sadness that rest in his eyes. On his lips, a smile no longer lived. “Hi Pa Pa”, I say as I walked over to k...
Today was the day we went to the O’brien family farm to say our last goodbyes. I slipped on shorts and threw on a shirt. i securely fastened my ballcap to my head and slid my Grandpa’s pocket knife into my pocket. The thirty minute drive through rural Illinois was filled of rolling hills, and golden wheat. Rows of dull yellow Corn stalks went on as far as the eye could see. The road was smooth and accepted the cars as they glided across its surface. I lightly slid my finger across the cold metal point of my knife. Thinking what my grandpa thought as he made the drive through this very
The city I found myself in was unfamiliar, a jigsaw of streets that fit together into one giant maze. Making my way around the narrow pathways, searching for a decent place to stay, I recalled the array of passengers I met on board the ship. They were knowledgeable and almost all of them were kindhearted, I remember having the chance to have many long and intellectual conversations. My first morning in the states I was awakened by a boom; signaling the coming of the day. Breakfast was delicious, my first fulfilling meal ever since I left Scotland.
Nancy was only four years old when her grandmother died. Her grandmother had a big lump on the lower right hand side of her back. The doctors removed it, but it was too late. The tumor had already spread throughout her body. Instead of having a lump on her back, she had a long stitched up incision there. She couldn’t move around; Nancy’s parents had to help her go to the bathroom and do all the simple things that she use to do all by herself. Nancy would ask her grandmother to get up to take her younger sister, Linh, and herself outside so they could play. She never got up. A couple of months later, an ambulance came by their house and took their grandmother away. That was the last time Nancy ever saw her alive. She was in the hospital for about a week and a half. Nancy’s parents never took them to see her. One day, Nancy saw her parents crying and she have never seen them cry before. They dropped Linh and her off at one of their friend’s house. Nancy got mad because she thought they were going shopping and didn’t take her with them.
I stood at the end of the driveway with a bag of clothes and my little sisters by my side. My dad pulled up, we got in the truck, and we drove about 10 minutes until we got to his shop. This would seem like a normal day, but things were different this time. We weren 't at the shop to ride the four wheelers around or to play basketball in the garage or to mess with the pinball machines. There was a gloomy feel about everything around us. Even though I didn’t say anything, I knew things were changing.
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.’
On the day my father died, I remember walking home from school with my cousin on a November fall day, feeling the falling leaves dropping off the trees, hitting my cold bare face. Walking into the house, I could feel the tension and knew that something had happened by the look on my grandmother’s face. As I started to head to the refrigerator, my mother told me to come, and she said that we were going to take a trip to the hospital.