Wait a second!
More handpicked essays just for you.
More handpicked essays just for you.
Positive and negative impacts of animal abuse
Animal abuse and effects
Animal abuse and effects
Don’t take our word for it - see why 10 million students trust us with their essay needs.
Sticking two black button eyes on our snowman, I turned and gave Charlie a high-five. "Finished!" I said. "And there's not a finer snowman in the whole neighborhood." But Charlie wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the snowman, his face almost as white. "D-d-d-did you s-s-s-see THAT?" he stammered. ... The snowman had eaten their cat! I couldn't believe it, but now at least I knew why my little brothers face was white. But how could it? I mean the snowman wasn't alive or anything, or at least as far as I knew. My little brother and I went off to the house, me not knowing to be surprised or scared. When my mom knew, she came outside with us to check out the snowman. It when we made it to where we had made he snowman before, it wasn't there! …show more content…
All i could think about though, was our poor cat, and how his life had to end by being eaten by a snowman that we had made. So technically we were the ones that had killed him. The only thing left to do now though, I guess, was to split up and go look for him, so it didn't do any more damage. Now that I was by myself out in the shallow woods of the back of my yard, I became nervous again that it was going to come and get me when I wasn't looking. All of the sudden when I was walking out of a small tree line, coming among a small frozen creek, I stopped and looked around for a moment. When it appeared that there was nothing there, I turned around, only to see the snowman standing there looking down at me. When we had built him though, he had barely been my little brothers height. But now he was easily
I also don't own the idea, it was requested to me by the wonderful Amanda. Thank you so much! I hope I did this idea justice.
2.32. The number that looked me in the eyes my first quarter of Junior year and told me I was a failure. 2.32. The number that causes a chill to go down my spine. Asking to go to the bathroom during class so I could make sure that I read this right. Could it have been a mistake? I'm sure I got more B's than this. 2.32. I had chosen to blame my father for this hideous GPA. I had chosen to blame my teachers for buying their teaching license on the internet. I blamed everyone else, but the one who was most guilty was looking back at me in the mirror. I had been the cause for this junky GPA. I had let all the events in my life get to me and expected that I would get my usual GPA by never doing work, never asking for help. I had isolated myself for a few months, I couldn't do homework
Hello, I am Piggy. Thank you all for attending today. In this very moment we are going be remember a littlun from the island. The boy with the Mulberry birthmark was one of the only littluns we could keep up with because he stood out. He was truly sweet and caring for those around him. I remember when he was the first littluns to let us older boys know that the beast was in the forest. I know that he didn’t intend to spread fear amongst the rest of the littluns, so I respected him as being brave because he wanted to protect those around him. It was quite hard. What would you do if you were surrounded by a bunch of littluns that were crying because they thought there was a child eating beast on the loose? He only did what he thought
Pleiku, in the central highlands of Vietnam, is the closest thing that I have ever seen to a heaven on Earth. Waking up every day amongst the rice paddies, amongst the rich grasslands, amongst my people are all memories I will take to my deathbed. Despite this, since I turned twelve years old in 1965, it became clear to me that Pleiku was going to be my graveyard, that I was just biding my time, waiting for the inevitable bullet to crash through my skull; but I digress. See, I was not even a teenager when my older brother handed me a Kalashnikov and a bag of rice and told me I was going to fight the Americans. I am still not totally sure why I am fighting or why anybody else is, but I know this: they are monsters.
Six years ago, My Mom, Dad, Sister and I started fostering a kitten named Buttercup, then named her Stella after we adopted her. Buttercup was her old name, along with her sister Butterscotch and brother Butterball. My family and I loved Stella. Stella is my version of a living treasure, even with her flaws I wouldn’t change anything about her. She's sweet, loving, and gives me someone to talk to who doesn’t criticize. She was my world, and still is. Stella has pure vanilla white hair, chocolatey-brown spots, and yellow eyes like sunflowers. Now she is six years old and I hope she stays with me for a long time. I’ll tell this story starting at the beginning at my house in Atlanta, Georgia, the place where I grew up.
We hit the edge of the tree line, prickers pulling and catching on our snow pants. Suddenly, we hit. I could feel myself fly over Caytie’s head, smashing into a tree a few feet away. The wind knocked violently out of my lungs, leaving me gasping for air. I could hear the snowmobile sputter to a stop, my foot somehow underneath the track. I saw Caytie in the snow and to my relief she got up, seemingly unscathed by the accident. That’s when Maddie came barreling down the hill towards the tree line. Maddie yelled, more terrified than either of us. She helped to pull the snowmobile off my foot and me back on my
It has been a few weeks on the island. I choose to be Ralph’s side, because he was the only one to personally speak to me. An everyday image for us group of boys is Jack and his hunters hunt while Ralph, Simon, and I build shelters and Piggy and the littluns build a rescue fire. Jack harassing Piggy and then going to bed musing about being rescued. Today was different though. Today we are going to find out if the beast is real. We have been walking through the jungle all day listening to Jack and Ralph argues about being chief, which, is getting on my last nerve. As the sky changed into a dark shade, Simon volunteered to go back and help Piggy with the littluns. I don’t know why he wanted to go back alone but if anyone would sacrifice, it would be him. We reached the mountain! Jack went climbing up on his own while Ralph, and I waited for him. Eventually we decided to go up. “There was a slithering noise high above them, the sounds of someone taking a giant and dangerous strides on a rock or ash” (Golding 121). As jack came down, he had a croaking feel to him. He said he saw something bulge. Ralph and I decided to go take a peak. When we got to the top, we saw a creature.
I have lived here all my life, and I need to see the world. These Eucalyptus leaves aren’t tasting like they used too. Is there a drought? That can’t be, the river was the highest it has ever been the last time I checked! I need to go see if it really is, and I sure hope it’s not.
Rob woke up to the sound of his sister, Mary. Mary was sobbing and Rob was about to ask her what was wrong when he noticed his mother’s lifeless body. Rob’s mother had skin as black as the night sky, and swellings the size of eggs under her arms and neck.
On a house, on a hill, on the darkest of nights, when the rain poured down a little too hard and the wind blew a little too coldly, a Creature perched, digging its claws into the rotting roof. It was not the first time this particular Creature sat on a spot like this, on a night very much like this night, surveying his domain. For not so near, but not so very far a building sprung up out of the bleakness. Fenced in by barbed wire, its windows barred, the occasional tormented pale face peering out, it stood, a miracle of the taxpayers’ moneys, slowly falling into disarray, no move to fix it. The Creature shifted, confident in its roost, and glaring at me. Inclining my head, I signaled I knew what was asked of me. The Creature took off, soaring in large, lazy circles like a vulture might do as he waits patiently for his next meal to die.
"Father,what were you thinking?!" I stood in the doorway of his study furious."Do you believe that what you did today was even in the slightest bit of humane?"
Bang bang bang. I woke up to what sounded like bombs. “What was that?” I went outside to check what the noise was. What I see is destruction and mayhem everywhere.
It’s December of 1967, the snowfall had begun early this year, but whether it came in inches or buckets, I could hardly wait for weekends. Playing outside in the snow was awesome. When I was nine years old, a Saturday morning routine consisted of my older brother’s and I waking up to a warm bowl of oatmeal with a raisin smiley face, and thirty minutes of mom methodically layering us with snow pants and jackets, socks and boots, hats and mittens, and a scarf. One by one we rushed outside to begin our day. I remember waddling down sidewalks with mountains of snow on each side, fierce snowball fights with neighbors across the street, swirling angels’ wings in a fresh layer of snow, and cheers for finding the biggest icecycle. Our annual snowman displayed a warm hat and scarf, two branches from the maple tree in our front yard, raisins and a carrot for the eyes and nose. My brothers and I would stay outside for hours and hours, only coming inside when we were called to dinner or could no longer see in the dark. A delicious hot meal or a cup of hot chocolate would be waiting at the table after we left a mound of winter clothes at the door. My day always ended with mom tucking me in with a good book and a kiss good night, and I’d fall asleep dreaming of endless possibilities in the snow. Life was good, I didn’t want for anything; mom and dad anticipated my needs before I even knew them.
the dreams of your sleep can't be remembered, but endless nightmares always lurk within. 'The Nightmare'. It's a disease , no one and no thing can interfere it. The silence is always a sign. Deep thoughts and worries are also symptoms. It's contagious, but it can scar you for the afterlife. All of your body gets infected. The brain is the first stop. It leaves you feeling solitary. Lonely .Death toll, all of us. We've faced it before, but some of us just don't know how to get over the addiction. This is my disease. My fear. My suffering.
I missed. I ran, jumped, and landed behind her, but enough to get us both going down the hill. She's flying at warp speed, and I'm there on my rear end chasing her. All of a sudden one of the ramps that the kids had made so they could catch air with their sleds, maliciously jumped in front of me, not my sister, and I hit it, hard. I'm not in the air, and I see the snow going faster us the hill...when...WHACK! My face hits the snow. I eventually make it to the bottom of the hill, on my eyelids, but ran the rest of the way home, I run into my house screaming that my nose was torn off from the sledding "experience" and my mother just laughed hysterically. She said, "Erin, your nose wasn't ripped off! It's packed with snow." After this incident, the family went out to get our tree.