Out of nowhere I hear a crack. I look to the side of me to see a glacier starting to fall. It takes all the strength I have to stand, but once I’m finally up a jolt of energy rushes through me I run near the icy lake where the glacier is falling. The bulls were closing in 20 yards, 12 yards, 8 yards, I dive out of the way in the nick of time to send the bulls flying into the icy water where the majority of the glacier falls on top of them, and I’m just hoping that killed them. The energy that I once had flew out of me I was light headed and just wanted to get back to the cave, however right when I started walking I collapsed.
Dark and chilly Night, walking back home from the basketball. Winning 108-95 against Apopka high school. Couldn’t bare the cold, going through my cheerleading bag, I start to take out my jacket, until I start hearing foot steps behind me. Looking back, seeing a dark figure walking towards me. Picking up my feet, gradually start to walk faster.
I noticed he had a barber’s razor in his hand, I rapidly grabbed his arm no to mention started to wrestle the man. He slipped causing the man to cut my throat, as I fell to the floor seeing nothing but black and red dots trying to talk, making nothing but gurgling sounds. The man looked to the floor not knowing what he had done. He fell to the floor telling my body to “Wake up! It was an accident, I swear!”
“Citlalee, pack the maize on the canoe” father shouted. “Yes papa”. Each morning, under the newly erupted sun, my father and I haul corn from the dense fields in the valley, all the way to the heart of Tenochtitlan. The trek last several hours and leaves my father and I with excruciating pain upon completion. After we gather a large enough load from the valley, we pack it onto the canoe in order to bring it to the homeland.
Water & Blood When Auntie invited Brook, Mom and me to go with her and Trent to Noah's Ark Water Park, Dad demanded to know why he wasn’t invited. Brook said, “It’s, like, a girl’s thing,” and Dad responded, “Trent’s not a girl.” So here we all are, Dad driving Trent, Auntie, Mom, Brook and me up the Interstate Five. It’s not even four a.m., so we’re one of the only cars on the road.
Mock trial has been a journey for me, marking both my experiences and my growth, as well as helping me choose a path for myself. Becoming an accomplished public speaker allows me to feel confident in my ability to succeed, and in my ability to advocate for myself. Mock trial allowed me to push my boundaries and to strive for something that required significant effort, for the first time letting me experience both success and failure in a higher stakes environment outside of academics. I joined mock trial in my sophomore year. The first year created a sense of community and family, and also helped me become more extroverted.
I see the murderer wearing the skull standing over me. That's when I remember the fire poker I grabbed and reach to where it fell beside me. I swing blindly as hard as I can. He lets out a shocked scream and falls to the ground, clutching his bleeding shin. As I see him start to move toward me I can tell I’ve made a grave
I felt a sharp pain from my chest and I collapsed on the ground and I lost consciousness again. I woke strapped to a table this time with people looking down on me I reached for the knife in my jacket and cut the straps on the table and dropped the knife as I ran down the stairs and stopped at the door. It was beginning to open and I hid the people walked by with Dr.Zygon and I was about to reach out
I walk into my room on the first day of summer, I look at my cork board and see a photo of Dexter. Dexter was my boyfriend until a fatal crash two years ago. And it was all Grayson 's fault. I know that sounds rude but it is true. But the worst part is about Dex being dead.
My life is like a song you can play me over and over again, you can get tired of me or never get tired of me, but don't make me mad I will explode on you. My life is like the song Monster by Skillet because I never let u see the secret side of me I keep it caged but I can't control it so stay away from me the beast is ugly, I feel the rage and i just can't hold it.
I know it may seem ridiculous, but I am not a normal girl. Sure, I'm eighteen, I'm in high school, I have friends, a boyfriend, but I am not normal. I'm a teenager by day, slayer by night. That's right, slayer. I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Bage! Bage! I was shooting my gun at some clay pigeons. Hitting 60 out of 70 which is good. My dad said to me if you want to come up north with me you can.
His face was of a woman's, had to be older than him, sliced off of the body and stitched onto his own. The man began to step towards me and I took off, running as fast as I could. My vision was blurred from tears, my hands painted red from his blood. I tried screaming for help, but I was too terrified to shout. Axes hit the trees around me, and somehow I managed to dodge to every single one, almost as if he was not even trying to hit me.
My history as a writer has been a bit of a struggle of slow development. From a young age I had a hard time with spelling and this is still a trouble area for me, even with the help of autocorrect. As I grew in age and as a writer my problematic area became not including enough nitty gritty details. My bad experiences that I recall would always involve the start of writing because I struggle with beginning paragraphs. Also, I tend to use the ending paragraph to just repeat myself, so overall my first and last paragraphs are usually shit.
Blood. There was so much blood. The images of their bloody, mutilated bodies will haunt my nightmares. Their horrible gut-wrenching screams are still echoing in my head.
