raHe searched everywhere for those shoes, those perfect tan ones with that fabric flower that fit him just right. The closet, underneath his bed, in the pile of clean clothes he meant to fold a week ago. They were nowhere to be found, completely gone from the face of the Earth, leaving Cal Hampton barefooted and discouraged. It was only eight in the morning and his room was more of a mess than it usually was, plus, worst of all, he didn 't have a single pair of shoes that matched the floral skirt settled upon his waist. He bought it just for that damn pair, those adorable, dainty tan shoes, and now, the thing was useless. Grunting, the boy thrust the fabric past his knees. His blouse followed soon after, landing in the disheveled grasp of his …show more content…
God forbid I wanted to look fucking cute today! No, Cal, apparently that 's against the fucking law! Can 't do that! He fell onto all fours, his angry words bubbling up into a series of vicious growls. The shifter looked and sounded menacing, but anyone who knew him understood he was probably ranting about the latest celebrity breakup or the fact they were out of the "boyfriend stealer" shade of lipstick on his favorite website, or even, how he couldn 't find the exact shoes he needed for an outfit. Resident Cal Hampton 's real problems were few and far between, but no one was willing to say to his face that his lack of boyfriend stealer wasn 't a "real" problem. So, he seethed, sprinting through the woods and practically foaming at the mouth. Granted, it was worse as of late. Every little thing chased him off into the trees to burn the excess steam that seemed to be constantly building inside him. He was frustrated. There was something wrong and he couldn 't place what exactly it was, which made matters far worse. Cal was trapped in a cycle of anger and testosterone and steam, around and around he spun. The white wolf
Travis Allen 523 words 9100 St. Charles Rock Road St. Louis, MO 63114 (314) 493-6100 allent517@ritenourschools.org There seems to be a problem by Travis Allen It 's 4:00 am, my bed feels something like a cloud but less wet, laying facing the ceiling wondering if I will ever serve as a greater purpose other than grow up, get a job, get married, have a nice family, then die, you know the usual, none the less it still scares me knowing that one day I will die and no one will remember me or that I ever existed. Feelings of sadness soon swarm my mind until the alarm clock suddenly went off at 4:30 am which could only mean one thing;
The room is spinning. It’s hard to get a good look and what or even where the scene is taking place. Finally, the revolution ends on a face. Not a remarkable face. Just an average looking guy in his early twenties with a short brown fair and sad eyes.
Ahh, I need better work! Phillip Jones is so lousy! He always is using the eraser on the other end of his pencil! I am so much better than that tiny thing! It is just un...be...lievable!
MORGANTOWN, W.Va.--Over the summer, West Virginia University's Brandon Watkins was forced with a difficult decision. He had to decide to pursue a basketball career with the Mountaineers or walk away. " He had a little vacation this summer," WVU head coach Bob Huggins said. "It was one of those, you need to decide if this is what you really want to do.
“I know that in writing the following pages I am divulging the great secret of my life, the secret which for some years I have guarded far more carefully than any of my earthly possessions; and it is a curious study to me to analyze the motives which prompt me to do it. I feel that I am led by the same impulse which forces the un-found-out criminal to take somebody into his confidence, although he knows that the act is likely, even almost certain, to lead to his undoing. I know that I am playing with fire, and I feel the thrill which accompanies that most fascinating pastime; and, back of it all, I think I find a sort of savage and diabolical desire to gather up all the little tragedies of my life, and turn them into a practical joke on society”
Hell isn’t all they crack it up to be, honestly. In the stories, it’s all fire, hopeless souls hopelessly screaming, endless pain. I mean, yeah, there’s fire. Lots of it.
“I learned a lot about Bec *fake Bradley’s sister*. When I recognized her outside of prom night, she looked like a whole different person! Clarie only knew her because she thought she hung out with the *stoners*. If I think about it, that is actually rude, I can’t explain it, but it just seems rude. Is the only reason she’s mean to me because I’m selfish, and never really paid any attention to her, nor her boyfriend, ‘Nate’?
Hi I’m Vance Monroe. My buddies call me Keys. Currently I’m running through the streets of downtown london getting chased by the police and the man who’s watch and keys I stole today. People might be wondering why a young boy like me at the age of ten is running the streets of 1861 London pickpocketing. Well then I would have to take them back to that day I was informed with an unfortunate event.
I have gone for approximately two years crushing over the same boy from my English class that goes by the name of Dale Christopher and I think its about time I do something about it. You 're all probably scoffing right now and thinking; oh wow yet another cliché story where the shy nerd girl gets the popular boy to fall in love with her and happily ever after!
It was a while before the last stroke ceased vibrating. It stayed in the air, more felt than heard, for a long time. Like all the bells that ever rang still ringing in the long dying light-rays and Jesus and Saint Francis talking about his sister. Because if it were just to hell; if that were all of it. Finished.
As they entered they saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at the piano, with his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumann's "Forest Scenes." "You must lend me these, Basil," he cried. "I want to learn them. They are perfectly charming."
Clay woke up to the loud, and obnoxious screeching of the alarm clock that rested on the floor next to his bed, he groaned in annoance at realization of consciousness, wishing sleeping felt longer. After laying there for another five minutes with the alarm blaring in the background, he desided to get up. The feline streched his frail wings out, making the muscles inside shiver slightly from the lack of use for the past few hours. After a bit more stretching in bed, Clay lazily slipped out of bed, his paws hitting the floor with a muffled "thump", due to the carpeted flooring.
his comeback, I was dispatched to George Cherry’s boxing club to watch him work out. After he had finished and showered, we adjourned to a neighbourhood greasy spoon for an amiable, two-hour chat. As we were about to leave, Lafleur asked about an old friend: “So how is Red Fisher?” “Red is Red,” I said, the only accurate description of the man I could ever manage.
The sound of the tennis shoes faded in the jungle heat.” “He bent to pick up the boy’s abandoned winter shoes, heavy with forgotten rains and long-melted snows. Moving out of the blazing sun, walking softly, lightly, slowly, he headed back toward civilization . . . .” This portrays when Douglas finally received the Royal Crown Cream-Sponge, Para Litefoot. Figurative language helped develop Douglas’ perspective on the shoes by showing how gleeful
Mr. Hampton exhibits the Caring Learner profile trait because all throughout the book, Mr. Hampton shows empathy for Arthur by making Arthur work for him instead of making him do time in the Juvenile Detention home for an enormous amount of time. According to the book, the text states,”’Now it says here you’ll be working four hours a week for Mr. Hampton until you complete the one hundred twenty hours required by the court,’” The effect on others trait of the indirect characterization family shows that Mr. Hampton gave Arthur another chance instead of sending him straight to the Detention home. An additional quote to support this claim is,”After arthur and the judge finished taking, mr. Hampton stood up and asked the bailiff if he could have