Recommended: Effects of fear
Then all of a sudden, something very spooky start happening. Every time I came to the end of the block and stepped off the g*****n curve, I had this feeling that I never get to the other side of the street. I thought I just go down, down, down, and nobody'd ever seen again. Boy did scare me." (197).
I heard what sounded like a siren parade, then an array of light breaking through the setting darkness. I peeled the curtains back away from the window a bit more so I could get a full view at what was going on. Much do my dismay I didn’t like what I saw. My stomach started to
Slowly, a bundle of bells began chiming, growing louder and louder, until my ears felt like they were screaming in agony. I snapped out abruptly, screaming and sweating like a child wanting his mother. What was that? Was it a sign? No, it couldn’t be.
Today I am working with an expeditious and powerful pitcher. As she lines up to pitch I can see that this pitch is going to hurt me even with the protective gear on. I focus on the ball as she winds up her arm with quick movement, and then I close my eyes for a swift moment to think about the possible harm I am going to receive. The mental wall that everyone builds after being emotionally scarred makes many people think that nothing will ever hurt them. They are extraordinary wrong.
I’m not very good at writing. This paper that you're reading right now was a struggle for me to think of it. If I really try and work and keep brainstorming I can write a great paper, but it takes me forever. I’m not a writer. I hate writing.
Hate, an intense or passionate dislike originated from Germanic. Hate is a word that is extremely common everywhere yet uncommon to those who love. Hate also has an emotional involvement abhorrence towards a person, place, or thing. I personally experience several forms of hate such as, self-hate, general world hate, and sexuality hate. I experience many different types of self-hate such as, my height, my attitude, and my hair.
Somewhere far off into the distance time I hear a deep bellowing sound of a church bell. I continued pushing forward until I found myself in some terrifyingly familiar street sometime late into the night. The only other sources of light that I can identify are the dimmed porch lights of the surrounding homes yet so very few are lit while the moon serves as a primary source of light. I continue to walk on mere impulse though suddenly a bloodcurdling demon-like scream causes me to recoil from pure instinct. My heart beat significantly rose as I buried my face into my arms in attempt try to calm my sudden hyperventilation.
On a breezy Saturday night, I walk past a hollow road, as I descend the road a bright flash caught my eye. I just couldn 't help but get closer and figure out what it is. I must be crazy, I 'm walking alone on a Saturday night when I could be with friends enjoying the typical Saturday evenings. But I realize, I am too old for that and sometimes you just need a break from it all, thus, my reason for walking on my own clearing my thoughts.
We sat on the back of your green pickup truck. You laid out the checkered blankets, and we cuddled as the wind picked up and swept the leaves from the lush trees grew tall after that bitter winter frost. We were sober, and our stomachs were churning with coffee and anger. You tilted your head back and stroked your hair. You sighed and answered tersely, “Hate.”
On a lazy summer afternoon, my father carefully gathered his belongings, headed for the door, and never returned. My mother and I exulted in our newfound freedom, and we celebrated over ice cream. The previous eight years had been marked with continuous abuse and manipulation, and we struggled with feelings of vulnerability and desperation. Unfortunately, my father’s requisite for malevolence and absolute control was far from over. After his abandonment, a vicious battle ensued within the judicial system.
A warm, late spring breeze blows through my raven hair, carrying with it the charming fragrance of the encompassing sprouting trees that circumscribed the interstate we are on. The traditional radio station plays string music delicately out of sight, making a subliminal grin shape all over at the recognizable sound. It 's photo culminate, the way the late evening light channels through the leaves and reflects off the red metal hood of the truck that I 'm situated in. + Alex wheezes.
I have this uneasy feeling inside of me. It’s hard to place (cryptic?), but it almost feels as if I’m being watched. Like at any moment someone could emerge from the shadows. Feeling apprehensive I scan the snow covered street. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.
Rage At 4 o’clock I sit down in the same chair I do every single day and prepare to settle in for the long haul. I pull out my agenda and promptly sink down in my chair when I see the growing list of things I need to do and things people are expecting from me. Thirty minutes later I look across the table and see my brother laughing, no doubt watching some stupid video on his computer, while I sit here slaving away. When I ask if he has started his homework yet he states that he doesn’t have any without looking up from his computer, as if I don’t matter to be looked in the eye when spoken to.
It has been a long and difficult journey writing this narrative, and I have discovered things about myself in this narrative I never knew before. My first paragraph was all a blur, I remember you told the class you could just write down all of your ideas and edit everything later, which I did. That night, I remember I became so into it, my creative juices were projecting onto the paper. Until, I hit a stump, and I could not write no more. I was at the beginning of the third page
The Horrible Sight Have you ever been scared and felt bad at the some time? Well, if you haven’t, I have a story that you might want to listen to. One spring day, my friend Aaron and I were playing video game,s and I decided to go play outside.
