1. I think what is fresh in Cranes approach is the way we see the battle. We are seeing and hearing about the battle though the eyes of this young man who is referred to as the youth throughout the story. Though his single thoughts and feelings the story is told making it seem very real. 2.…
By insignificant back alleys and little-trod lanes, Johnny made his way to the ferry slip in North Boston. From there to Charlestown boats were going back and forth. No civilian except only the Boston doctors, who had offered their services, were allowed close to the Wharf. It was well Johnny had thought to not put on Pumpkin’s uniform. Mrs. Bessie had been right about one thing.…
I walked through the dust and dirt to the familiar nondescript building I had come to know and love: Merek South in Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp. Trumpet case in hand, I pushed open the teal double doors and was met with a wall of sound. I felt the corners of my mouth rise and give birth to an excited grin as I walked past the percussion equipment and other trumpet players to the only open seat, which stood out in sharp contrast against the sea of blue polo shirts and navy blue pants--the required uniform of the camp. I had attended Blue Lake before, but now I was about to embark on their international exchange program, which would bring me to France, Germany, and Holland for five weeks during the Summer. “Are you Patrick from Maryland,” asked a girl in the middle of the section who I later learned was Julia.…
Do you remember the first time you went to camp? During the fall of 2014, I had the most aghast time at Camp Tecumseh. At camp, everybody stayed in a cabin. The cabins were filled with the same genders.…
"December 17, 1853, Dear Mr Scrooge: You, a fine sir of business, may take little notice of this letter. Ten years ago you changed for the better. However before the change, you flung a cane towards the window of a boy singing. That was me." Scrooge laughs bitterly and makes the letter shake in his wrinkled hand.…
It was the first day of the long 180 days of prison known as Hazlet Middle School. I walked in and the smell of body odor and fresh paint slap me like a brick wall. I knew the swirling tornado of teachers and tests has begun. Everyone was still filled with the joy of Summer like a bucket filled with sand. The school was shimmering as bright as a diamond.…
His fingers were trailing up and down her sides over her ribs while the heels of his hands made lazy progress up her spine. Blair was jolted to the soles of her feet when his fingers brushed the sides of her breasts, plumped out against the quilt. She shifted her weight and he got the less-than-subtle message. His hands left her long enough to get more lotion. When next he began, they were on the backs of her knees.…
“Don’t forget, the paper is due next Wednesday!” My 8th period teacher, Mrs. Oakford told to my class and I as we streamed out of the cramped classroom on a Friday. We couldn’t wait to bust out of the schools doors and claim our prize of a short freedom for surviving another busy, exhausting, and slow week of middle school. I rushed to my locker, grabbed everything I would need for the homework due Monday, threw it in my bag and headed down the hall collecting my friends to walk to town to start what I would hope would be a slow but fun weekend off The weekend went quicker than I wished and before I knew it, it was late Sunday night and I still hadn’t done my homework, I realized this and got to work.…
I think my middle school writing career overall was not really that big of a deal. I just write because the simple fact that I don’t want to get a bad grade and especially if the assignment was an important factor to my grade and I want to get a decent grade. There's not really much of a story to tell besides, I just wrote because I had no other option but to write. My strengths as a writer are coming up with an interesting or funny story.…
My First Day of School in Kindergarden “Click” Good morning Natalie! Wake up! my mom said excitedly. My mom is a very loving and happy kind of person who always thinks positively. I groaned to indicate to my mom that I was awake.…
Dreams; we all have them, whether they are dreams that arise in your sleep or dreams that will determine what and who you become in a future time. According to Henry David Thoreau, "Dreams are the touchstones of our character. " When first pondering upon this statement, it is difficult to decipher which "dreams" Thoreau is describing. If this quote were to be broken apart into individual words, "dreams" would refer to our desires and our hopes. What is meant by touchstones in this case is certain standards or tests.…
Our story starts with a girl and a boy. Dee Coleman and James Kennedy. They had a very close yet odd friendship. Not quite like anything you’ve ever seen before. Peanut butter and jelly...…
If you were to ask me about my high school writing experience, I would tell you that I did not have much experience. We did not have any classes at my school that were specifically writing classes. At my high school, we just had regular English classes where we would occasionally do a few papers in. My English teacher senior year was a great person, but did not necessarily teach us a lot about proper styles of writing papers. Coming into college English, I did not feel well prepared with what to expect for a college level writing class.…
Wind bustled through the branches of the trees, making the leaves howl in their symphony. Walking along the gravel path in the woods makes you realize how intricate the clash between weather and nature can be. Two natural forces both in harmony and constantly fighting. The rain was going to come down any second; it’s distinct smell was filling the air. Plush, intertwining clouds pushed their grey front towards where I stood.…
Trickster Imagination FEAR! An emotion that leads us into complete paralyzed form of our mind. Or at least that’s what I thought on my first day of high school. I had no idea of what I was doing or even what to do. This was my first time back into public school after five years of home schooling.…