Vengeance Thirteen is an age of confusion, stuck between wanting to be an adult but not yet old enough to be an independent. Angela was about this age, born in 1464 in Russia. She was conniving and a liar; the latter of the two lesser known. The girl was also power hungry and had an unsettling obsession with the ability to control others. She belonged to only her mother and owned a small house cat. Walking along a narrow road in her town, Angela noticed a man with a small stick hanging out of his jacket pocket. The young woman’s mind immediately began to wonder what it could be. “A wand?” she pondered. And so her fabrications began. The girl had a way with creating a problem and stated that she had seen a wizard experimenting the physical limitations of a small …show more content…
She submerged herself under her blankets in hopes that the morning would prove she had only had a bad dream. Morning would come, along with no cat. Many more normal mornings would come until nine days later. Angela awoke this particular morning to with a visitor: a crimson puddle of blood beside her arm, and the words, “Where’s your mommy?” engraved in her skin.The wand gleamed in the sunlight, almost happily, she noticed. It seemed as if she had received more than just a new toy. Angela was not afraid of the blood; she was afraid of the words carved into her skin and what had caused them, although she already knew. Adrenaline consumed her, and she immediately scrounged the house and the town for her mother. Into town she took with her the wand, and worked for three hours penetrating the earth so deep she knew no other person could stumble across the disasters of this atrocious object. Her journey back home consisted of ways to find her mother and a plan if she could not. Walking into her home and up the stairs to her room, Angela felt a sense of foreboding. On her bed the wand lay, with a small note reading, “You can’t get rid of me.” Vengeance has no
“First, I thought it was a weapon,” he said of the stick that, I should add, is fairly heavy. “But my grandmother told me what it was and that it had belonged to her great-great-great grandfather, or something like that. She had forgotten all about it being there. She told me to keep it, it might be worth something someday.”
Susie’s mother opened the door to let Molly, Susie’s babysitter, inside. Ten-month old Susie seemed happy to see Molly. Susie then observed her mother put her jacket on and Susie’s face turned from smiling to sad as she realized that her mother was going out. Molly had sat for Susie many times in the past month, and Susie had never reacted like this before. When Susie’s mother returned home, the sitter told her that Susie had cried until she knew that her mother had left and then they had a nice time playing with toys until she heard her mother’s key in the door. Then Susie began crying once again.
The warmth that parents bring to their children’s lives starts at infancy. Mothers and fathers of young children shower their kids with baby-talk and physical touch. These behaviours show the child that others are sensitive of their needs and those parents can be relied on for emotional responsiveness. However, this didn’t occur until twelve years later in Dani’s life, whereas Olivia, three years old , is her mother’s, Rosemary’s favourite and is described as ‘so lovable’ – a word Sylvia-Amelia-Julia had never heard her use to describe any of them – and is wished to “stay at this age for ever” because of this. Dani’s mother, Hayley, didn’t get the chance to hold her child before she was “placed in a clear Perspex cot and wheeled out of the birthing room” to the intensive care unit as she was premature – birthed at only five months “so small. So desperately, impossible small – barely larger than the midwife’s hands”. Although despite Hayley’s absolute exhaustion afterwards, she still felt “an overwhelming need to reach out and touch the child”, but her strength left her when she pushed herself up, so “she could do nothing but look” as her child was taken a...
Have you ever felt like your alone and can’t get up but you really can? Well keep reading you will notice you can build yourself up to get up.“Eleven” is a story about a girl in school on her birthday and she is in class and the teacher found a red sweater and ask who’s is it. No one answers except the mean girl sylvia and says it’s probably hers because it is ugly just like her. So the birthday girl went along with it because she was afraid to talk. Later on in the story she stands up for herself and speaks. This family have a lot of things so they are trying to change some reasons are she wears the sweater that is not hers, Kids who need help, are most likely upset, and When girls cry they are embarrassed. In the story, “Eleven, “ Sandra Cisneros writes to show how you can start your day off bad but can change it into a good day.
“Daisy, are you done with your book honey”, mom said loudly. “Yes”, I declared proudly. After all, it was a long and dry book at the beginning, and it did take a pretty long time. “So, do you want to tell me what it’s about?” my mom said inquisitively. “Sure”, I said, stuffing a piece of meatloaf into my mouth. “So, this book is called The Witchy Worries of Abby Adams. In the beginning, they introduce the characters. You know, like they do in every book. After that –’’Ding dong! “Oh my, I wonder who it could be!”My mother said, getting up from her seat to go get the door. “Hi Abby! Come on in. What brings you today?”Mom says excitedly. Abby? I thought. How strange! Just like the girl in my book. It must be a coincidence. “Actually Mrs. Holcomb, I would like to talk to Daisy”, Abby said. As soon as those words left her mouth, a chill went up my spine. How did mom know her? What does she want from me? Many questions were flying through brain. So much that I couldn’t even remember my own name. I can hear their footsteps through the halls. With every footstep, my heart would race faster, my hands would get sweatier, and my mind gets more clueless every time.
“ I examined it closely searching for some flaw, some obvious damage. But there was nothing, no imperfection I could see. If there was something wrong it was not evident by the smooth, hard plastic of the outside. All the mistakes would be on the inside, where you couldn’t see, couldn’t reach.”
Terrible heartbreak plagues the reader: “And the mother’s shrieks of wild despair / Rise ...
"Elisabeth!" I screeched causing my voice to crack. I ran up to the crowd surrounding the event. I pushed my way through hundreds of people. I emerged my way to the front and stumbled in front of Elisabeth. I looked up as the heat warmed my face. The smell of burnt flesh and hair sizzled the air as the logs popped and cracked. Tears escaped my eyes. My knees buckled beneath me and I fell. Expecting to hit the ground, I went limp only to be prompt up by God knows
“We played The Soul Game today.” Her words hit me like a wrecking ball. “What’s the soul game?” her head was like a spinning chair, for she couldn’t keep her gaze. Her amber eyes darted all over the car, and sweat beaded from her brows. “I said no thank you, but she told me we wouldn’t be friends anymore if I didn’t!” a tear ran down her cheek. “WHAT. IS. THE. SOUL. GAME. TELL. ME. CHILD.” I turned off the car. “I cant tell you, the rules are so horrible! I cant!” she screamed. “Well will Violet tell me?” the look on Alyssa’s face was pure torture towards me. No one ever wants their child to appear so angry and frustrated. “NO!!” she squealed, scaring me, and making my blood run cold. “DON’T ASK HER. PLEASE. DON’T!” I opened my car door, confused and frightened. “PROMISE ME MOM!” I shut the door, heading towards her side where she was going ballistic. She was bawling, terrified. I opened her door and took her in my arms, and rocked her the way I used to when she was little, and had a bad dream. She fell asleep there, and I calmly took her to her room and laid her in her bed. Maybe sleep would make her
Thirteen: The Age of Adolescence Adolescence is the stage in life when you are no longer a child, but not yet an adult. There are many things that still need to be explored, learned, and conquered. In the film Thirteen, the main character, Tracy Freeland, is just entering adolescence. While trying to conquer Erikson’s theory of Identity vs. Role confusion, Tracy is affected by many influences, including family and friends, that hinder her development. Many concepts from what we have learned in class can be applied to this character, from identity development, to depression, to adolescent sexuality and more.
Our eyes locked, as tears streamed down her sullen face. She was a petite woman with heavy dark eyes, revealing her struggle, her pain, and a hope for a better life. She cradled her infant gently, yet firmly as if it was her last breath. With every sway, she kissed her child’s head as a promissory note that she would take care of her and provide for her the world.
The darkness of her bedroom crept into her body. As time progressed the sounds of the evening grew louder leaving her in a state of fear. Amongst the dark room she would see the shadow of someone standing outside her bedroom window. She didn’t know why someone would want to hurt her. Afraid to tell her parents she found refuge underneath the sheets of her bed. After several sleepless nights she spoke to her mother about the mysterious person outside her window. Her mother shrugged it off and told her that no one was there and not to worry. Her mother believed that this was either her imagination or eating too close to her bedtime. However, Elyn was determined to catch this mysterious man. Next, she enlisted the help of her brother Warren. Frightened they hid in the closet waiting to capture the bandit. Unfortunately, this heroic attempt was unsuccessful as the bandit never revealed himself to anyone but her. Soon it became apparent to everyone that no one was outside her window. But, these feelings of a watchful eye never fled her. As a result, Elyn spent many nights terrified underneath her sheets only falling a sleeping from
Dawn wandered away from the window, a bewildered sense of excitement washing over her as she stared at the car pummel down their gravel driveway. She loved her grandmother, her grandmother brought presents and sweets and occasionally her small little dog, an enthusiastic rat terrier whose main purpose in life was to cover any near human in tiny licks of affection. She trumped in an eager fashion to the door and began stomping her feet at arrival of her destination, tiny shoes smacking against the wood. It was her chosen way to get ahold of her mother’s attention, to stomp.
July 11th, 2001 cold rain poured from the sky, through blurred vision as I struggled to stand up from the damp dirt road, and look at the damage around me, I saw a lone silver car quickly approaching. Have you ever gotten a car with a stranger, without thinking of what the consequences could be? The next thing I remembered I was climbing out of that cramped crowded car, followed by my aunt, three cousins, and two siblings. The moment I looked down to wipe the rocky dirt from my skin, was when I realized there was no dirt to wipe off - the rocks were resting within the missing patches of skin that covered the left side of my body from the top of my shoulder to the bottom of my knee.
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…”