Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
A narrative essay on who is your role model
A narrative essay on who is your role model
A narrative essay on who is your role model
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Recommended: A narrative essay on who is your role model
LITHIUS
Laney: I woke up at 3 in the morning dripping with sweat. I strided noiselessly across the beach apartment I share with my best friend, Lithius. “She can take more heat than anyone else I know.” I muttered to myself as I fixed the thermostat. Lithius and I are complete opposites in so many ways. While I am quiet, she is spontaneous, often disappearing off at random times and never will tell me where she went. I’ve never met someone as determined as Lithius. She finished medical school a year ago and works hard everyday treating depression and mania. Everything about her is unique, from the metallic looking soft, pale gray streak in her otherwise thick crimson hair, to her sassy personality, to her fear of water. Lithius refuses to go near water. Why? I don’t know either. I’ve asked her many times but all she says is that water makes her skin feel likes its been ignited. This can be a big problem… we live at the beach. She won’t near the ocean, ever. Beside her phobia, she’s awesome. Lithius has an electric personality- I feel like she stores her “energy” up and releases it in big amounts to many people. I call it weird, she calls it electrochemical. I’ve learned not to question her, because after all, she is the one with the medical degree. (She uses that one against me constantly) I’m just Laney, her best friend/roommate and also, believe it or not, in the same family. We’re cousins- both in the receptive Alkali family. We grew up together, almost like sisters, and we’ve always close, until now. I feel like Lithius is keeping something from me. lithius: I felt my iPhone vibrate early this morning- with the text I’d been waiting for. He’s back. I scribbled a quick note to Laney explaining I’d headed to the coffee shop o...
... middle of paper ...
... started. Horrible pain. It was unbearable and I collapsed onto the old wood. I gasped for air. My eyelids fluttered. Then I felt a shaky hand on my arm. Laney! Relief overpowered the pain. I jumped to my feet. “You’re ok!!” I cried.
Laney:It was a major shock to be rescued by Lithius. She has… powers?! There was no time to think. I had to help Lithius!! Malcolm- or the Masked Marine as Lithius said he is. I was going to help Lithius. I don’t care that she kept this from me. She is my cousin, roommate, and best friend. Lithius waved her hand and a fire roared towards the Masked Marine. She’s amazing. And also rare, I know. Lithium is not found free in nature. She’s the one and only. Fire enveloped Mask and he crumpled on the pier. Finding out about the powers does not change what I think about Lithius. I’m here for her, no matter what. We walked forward. Together.
He pressed his hands firmly to his stomach to try and slow the bleeding, yet the hole in his back bled freely, making his magic, even as he tried to heal himself, have a hard time keeping up. His mind was fuzzy, thoughts coming slowly to him, the only clear two being 'thank god he's gone' and 'thank god he didn't hurt Amaimon too' as he slumped fully to the ground, face pressed to the wood floor. It was cold and made him sleepy, though that was honestly probably the blood loss, which was slowly beginning to taper off as his body worked overtime to fix the gapping hole in his torso. Belatedly he wished he could see Amaimon from where he lay, wanting to hold him and say sorry like he had intended to. But he hardly thought he would be able to speak
The Iliad and the Fate Of Patroclus Throughout The Iliad Of Homer, the constant theme of death is inherently. apparent. The snares are not. Each main character, either by a spear or merely a scratch from an arrow, was wounded or killed during the progression of the story. For Zeus' son, a king.
The lava came crushing down slowly onto me. Blood drizzle down my lower leg.“Oh my poor dear” my aunt stammered and stood there in uneasiness. Oh how my aunt could have been my hero! Oh how everything could have fell its place if my aunt saved me from this, oh how I am still terribly crying! Oh how could this pain go away? Oh how dangerous this event would have been if we were even a teeny tiny bit closer.
It dawned on me that I couldn’t be moved because the pain was too great, and I had already lost so much blood that it would be a matter of time before I would lose too much. I had finally come to realization with my
The epic poem called The Odyssey, which was written by the poet Homer, is one of the many classical stories from Ancient Greek culture. It tells the story of Odysseus, King of Ithaca, and his journey back home from the war with Troy, which had occurred in Homer’s other epic Greek poem, The Illiad. Odysseus faces many trials and quests in his journey home and to take back his kingdom from the suitors, such as meeting the witch Circe, blinding a Cyclops named Polyphemus, dealing with Poseidon, and staying with the goddess Calypso. The poem has many themes that are relevant to it. One such theme is the factor of redemption. Redemption is usually a typical subject in any kind of religion, like the Greek religion and Christian religion. The story of Odysseus has an underlying message of him receiving redemption from the Greek gods. The Odyssey is a tale of redemption because it deals with Odysseus being forgiven by the gods after having to go through many trials and wrongs to rightfully claim back his wife and the throne of Ithaca.
When I opened my eyes, I could see a pool of blood on the neon green course. I reached my hands down to lift myself up, but all I could see was the splattered blood on my baby blue jeans. I heard my date rush to my side to lift me up and carry me inside. My head was spinning so fast and I couldn’t think straight. Panic sunk in as soon as I saw my butchered nose in the mirror. This wasn’t something I could hide. My first reaction was to call my sister to let her know what happened, but also see if she could redeem me from my lie. To my advantage, her and her fiance were in Evansville already. Although I knew I needed to go to the hospital as soon as possible, I met up with Haley first. She rushed me to the emergency room and called my
17 year old Carley Sturges’ head was pounding. She knew something wasn’t right. Earlier that day at her lacrosse tournament, she was struck with a lacrosse stick across the temple. She had fallen down but didn’t black out. She finished playing the tournament. For the next two and a half months, she slept a lot, mumbled, and couldn’t carry on a conversation with others.
The rope suddenly snapped. I fell and I fell until I hit something soft, something beating. I found myself lying, on my stomach, against what looked like a human heart.
“Mitchell! It’s time!” my mom shouted from down the stairs. Nearly in tears at this point, I slowly walked down the stairs, stalling time with every step I took. Dreading this walk toward the kitchen table, I absolutely would rather be anywhere in the world than sitting at the kitchen table doing this. I took my time pulling the chair out and taking a seat. The pad was already on the table along with all of the necessary equipment. I tried telling my mom I didn’t need this, but the pain in my leg knew that was a lie. I knew that in only a few minutes all of this worry would be behind me, but the sight of the syringe and tourniquet were making me sick to my stomach. All of my focus was on the needle as it rested in my mother’s hand.
...came by quickly and examined him. Bojoby had damaged his language and hearing part of his brain. They had to right down the news on a piece of paper and show him. When he read the words he broke into tears knowing he would never hear or talk again. He starting wheezing and the heart monitor he was attached to started to beep rapidly. They quickly wheeled Bojoby into an operation room. They took at least three hours as his mom waited for the doctor in the waiting room. Finally the doctor walked in. “I’m sorry, but there was too much damage to his brain. There was nothing we could do.” The doctor said softly.
As I regained my consciousness, my face was throbbing with pain and my nose was bleeding. I tried to clean the blood off my face, but realized my hands and legs were tied up. I sat upright and looked around me. My house was a mess; everything was either broken, or gone. . . . I had been robbed.
My series of questions was interrupted as a devilishly handsome man, with brown hair and mesmerizing hazel eyes, emerged from the door of my room, with a mobile phone close to his ear, talk...
Lulissa had been running all day, sweat was dripping downwards from her normally clean and dry face. She had hid in a dank and dark alleyway for at least ten minutes now. She crouched low behind a nearby dumpster while holding her nose as she saw beams of light beaming out from the entrance to the alleyway.
OUCH! My leg crippled with pain. I tried to shuffle my way to the window, but it was excruciating. As my senses kicked back in, I felt pains shooting up and down my body. Peering down at my hands I screamed. My hands were covered in cold, congealed blood.
I wake up in this room. My mother is to my left crying with her face in the palms of her hands. My dad, he paces the floor with his hands in his pockets. I am scared I can barely remember what has transpired. As my mother stands and looks at me square in the eyes, the nurse comes and says with a grin on her radiant face “Hello, Mr. Howard. How are you feeling?” I attempt to sit up, but my body is aching. My dad hurries over to help, but it was no use the pain was overbearing. I began to weep and apologize. My dad with a stern look on his face says, “Andra, you are fine now just relax”. How could I relax? I am stuck in this room with no memory of what happened.