Columbus’s journal; A normal day on the land was suddenly going to be the day or discovery. We woke up and did out ritual , cooked then cleaned. After we moved to our daily work area. Some of us farmed , cooked for the chiefs of our tribe , the children went to school where they learned how to read , write , and acknowledge the history of our tribe. We’ve never encountered any other tribes
During the year of 2005, I was a young, naive six-year-old child that did not entirely understand the different aspects of life, let alone natural disasters or why certain events occurred. That was my perspective until the day before Hurricane Katrina arrived in New Orleans, Louisiana. Winds gusting, whistling peculiar sounds in contrast to the rhythms of the air, loose screen doors pattering against neighboring houses. The air filled with a lingering stench of sewage that could suffocate your lungs.
After leaving Rock Creek, we had to follow the Platte River and travel the rest of the way to Fort Kearney. I felt a cold gust of wind coming from the North and little droplets of water slowly fell down. The wagon had no damage until the rain fell harder and harder. Our only wagon cover was soaking wet and water was dripping down into the wagon ruining all of our belongings. A very strong wind blew towards our direction and slightly tilted all of our wagons.
In the Eyes of The Misfit A shirtless man wearing glasses is searched through an old pickup for an old time capsule that he had left long ago. He exited the car, and leaned on the hood of the old rusty old truck. The blood red sun was dying in the background behind him. Trees hover over him as giants. They protected him from the razor blade fragments of sunlight.
It was a beautiful day for the beautiful game of baseball to be played in the friendly confines of Wrigley Field, Chicago: breezy, sunny, but not a scorching hot, sweat-bead kind of day. Merely six miles south of Wrigley Field, we boarded the CTA purple line el train, along with clusters and clusters of Chicago Cubs fans also getting on each and every rail car from who knows where. But, let me tell you, I was in awe; I have never been with so many true fans who knew, not only baseball, but knew the Cubs! “Who’s ready for the Cubs to crush the Astros!”
Once, I was a little snowflake on top of a mountain. Life was good on Aspen Mountain with the exception of being trampled by skiers. Until one day when a skier wipes out on top of me. As he was falling, Me and my brothers were swept into the man's jacket. Most of my brothers tumbled out as the man stumbled for his Ski poles but I was stuck.
Good Country People Narrative Essay Mrs. Freeman’s gaze drove forward and just touched him before he disappeared under the hill. Then she returned her attention to the evil-smelling onion shoot she was lifting from the ground. “Some can’t be that simple,” she said. “I know I never could.” When the sun was beginning to dive down, sprinkling a orange-tone layer across the ground, Hulga was finished slouching.
The Storm Lightning crashes overhead as I race back into the house, dripping wet. I was just returning back from an adventure in the woods. The storm was unexpected, even the forecasters had never expected it. Luckily, I managed to make it back inside safely.
The night of May 25, 2011, is a night that will vividly remain in the forefront of my memories. Myself, Junior, my husband and Mini Pearl our little Chihuahua, were living in Clarksville, on Rogers Avenue, in a spacious old brick home with our friend John “Doc” Strange, his daughter Kristen and his little dog Mischief. The brick house was built in the early 1900’s. Throughout the day and early evening threats of tornadic activity in our area was causing apprehension, trepidation and anxiety in our home.