Free. My payroll had granted me the freedom I sought after for so long. A sentence bestowed upon me for the murder of a man named Dane Bellows. Was I guilty? No. I covered the tracks of another and filthied my own with guilty footprints. They had given me a new name, Luke Jameson. Looking at that name on paper gave me an uneasy feeling, if was like looking at a detached personality something I had to take on in order to live a free and easy life. The death of Bellows was all over the news, the press where hungry for justice and I had to take the fall. Who whom? For her. Why hadn’t she called? I took the fall, why didn’t she even try to call? Guilt? Maybe she was afraid I would lash out or beg her to come forwards?. Bless her. She had the innocence of a new born Fawn, a gentle, trembling pale woman with lips of matchstick red. Man, I missed smoking. Cigarettes are expensive in prison. I had written a list of the things I would do when I step through the gate: 1. Buy cigarettes 2.Telephone my brother 3. Find her Stepping out the gate, I breathe the air of a free man. “Good luck’ tells the officer. I don’t reply, after 30 years inside you learn not to. Stepping into a shop, with the little money I had, I buy cigarettes and head out into the open world again. Luke Jameson. My name is Luke Jameson. Luke. Jameson. I stand in the phone booth, a few streets into the city centre. I scribble my new identity down over and over, it still seems alien to me. People pass me in the booth, so content. I see couples in love. Looking at my list, I see it’s time to phone my brother. I used to have so many friends. Work friends, home friends and my drinking buddies, but sadly my proudness meant I never reached out to them. I hadn’t spoken ... ... middle of paper ... ...elp it. I’m sorry. You know what she’s like, you know every man falls for that face” I looked back at her. She looked like a viper ready to bite. That clown white face, terrifying, with that fake trembling she puts on and those blood red lips. I then looked at the blue convertible in front of me. “My money? You spent all MY money?” I began to attack the car, smashing the windows, denting the bodywork and piecing the tires. Again that familiar sound of sirens raced towards me. Arrested. Again. However that’s not the end of me. My brother and lover where jailed for fraud, lets see how they like the taste of cold mash potato. "Me? I was put in the cell for the night for property damage. I think I can live with that, Luke Jameson - destroyer of blue convertibles. Yeah, I like the sound of that. My name is Luke Jameson. Luke. Jameson. Time to start a new life.
“Mr. Kahrig, you're lucky to be alive,” said Rinfret, continuing, “You convinced me to let you out of jail (on a recognizance bond) and go to work, and you almost killed yourself. If I left you in jail instead of letting you out, you'd be better off today.”
“This man betrayed me and you're defending him. !” I looked at Candy and mouthed the words no. I turned around and made it to the trail. I went past Lennie’s grave. I touched the cross and whispered in the wind.
All the rage that had been building up inside of me since the end of the trial boiled over and I grabbed the young boy, knocking the girl over. He fought with all he had, causing me to lose my hold on him. He fell to the ground, but was up in a flash and began to lead his sister away from me. I couldn’t let that happen so I grabbed the little punk by the back of the shirt, and pushed him to the ground. Then, with a satisfying crunch, I stepped on his arm and broke it, causing him to
Further, Daughan covers the British blockade on American ports and the Napoleonic Wars. First, the British blockade on 1813 made difficult for American flagships to leave ports because the British Navy blocked almost all American ports with the exception of New England which provided goods to the British Navy during the war. Secondly, Daughan adds that the Napoleonic wars had a major impact on the American local war; exclusively, Napoleon’s defeat in Russia gave more confidence to Britain for supporting the War of 1812 longer. In contrast, A.J. Langguth did not include in his book, Union 1812: The Americans Who Fought the Second War of Independence, any international aspect that might influence the War of 1812.
This is your new identity, Brother Jack said. Open it. Inside I found a name written on a slip of paper.That is your new name, Brother Jack said. Start thinking of yourself by that name from this moment. Get it down so that if you are called in the middle of the night you will respond. Very soon you shall be known by it all over the country. You are to answer to no other, understand (302)?
I wasn’t. He just put the handcuffs on me and then started beating me up.” I asked Inmate Dennis where his hands were when he was handcuffed; if they were in front of his body, or behind his back. He stated, “In the front.”
“But what about me, I’ve been in this damn, little cell for years, and now they are going to put me to death. Do you know what that means? I’m going to die for something that I didn’t do?” Weeping, as she waited for
in ,head to your left your plane will be leaving soon .I nodded and stood in line to board my plane I noticed how there was no security checks...I heard louder
Within my fifteen and a half years of living, I have experienced many heart wrenching moments that have changed who I am, so many that I stopped trying to keep count long ago. Like most teenagers, the past couple of years have been some of the most confusing, hectic years of my life. I'm at that age I'm trying to figure out who I am, as well as who I want to become. As indecisive as I am, I will more than likely change my mind a time or two, but right now at this very moment, I've finally come to terms with who I really am, and what I would like to do for the rest of my life.
“You’ll never leave” is carved faintly into the brick wall of the small jail cell, probably from its last guest. Every day, I started to believe the phrase more and more. I lay on the uncomfortable cot, pretending to be asleep. I’m lonely, but I’m not alone. I can hear him breathing and slowly flipping the pages of the newspaper; I assume it’s Mr. Heck Tate.
When we got to the jail I got finger printed. They also took my picture for a mug shot. They gave me an orange jumpsuit and showed me my room. Now I lay on this uncomfortable mattress thinking. I really don’t regret killing Mr. Boddy. I was going to be here regardless. I figured I should go to sleep. After all I was going to have some time to think tomorrow. I'm going to be stuck here for the rest of my life, but at least I'll live with no
You’re probably wondering what I did. Well, where do I start? Let me begin on the day my little brain came up with this supposedly brilliant idea. It was on a summer’s afternoon and the sun was gleaming directly against my face as though it was ready to burn me to a crisp. I blocked it with my right hand but then something else caught my attention. Three men in ski masks held large rifles in one hand and in the other bags of what I assumed to be loads of money. They ran out of the National Bank and jumped into a beat up van, drove off only leaving smoke behind them. Somehow I was able to read the license and memorized it. The usual citizen would have reported it to the police but I decided on a different approach.
A baby’s life helps to form and shape the future for that child; this goes the same for me. My birth, my sign, and my name, all relate to the way I live and act today. Many people may not see this connection for themselves, but it takes a little bit of research and thinking to come to realize why people are the way they are. Every day and every action that a child experiences can influence their actions as an adult.
I am sentimental, out-going, indecisive, understanding, curious, naive, lazy, and young. I want to be ... , well a lot of things, and growing is discovering what they are. I feel people cannot see the potential within, although there is no one to blame but myself. I look to others for approval instead of to myself. I aim to please; it leads to approval. I don’t like to discuss my faults; I pity myself.
I took a long, hard look at the people around me and figured out what their good attributes were and why they were significant in my life. When I figured out who they were as people and what they could give as a friend, versus what I needed as a friend, I made my decision. It wasn’t a decision that was said out loud or one that was publicized. I just directed my energy towards the people who needed my friendship in return for the friendship they had shown me. When I realized who was a true friend and who was not, it hurt. There was a lot of pain, knowing somebody didn’t care as much about me and my well=being as I had wanted them to. It wasn’t until later, that I realized they could still be in my life, just not as much involved it as they once