In the personal narrative essay “Sticks and Stones”, author Nicole Bell narrates a story about a time in her life where she and her brother, Greg, stood up to the constant bullying they were experiencing. Every morning, as Bell and Greg would ride the bus to school James Nicholas, the bully, would verbally abuse, and criticize them. One morning, James decided to use physical force. Nicole and her brother ultimately reacted to the threats and retaliated. Even though we learn that violence is never the answer, the essay emphasizes the strong, defensive bond between siblings.
CHAPTER TEN Frantic Flight to Yellow Rock Jacob charged across the crest, his feet beating divots into the dirt. “Come on!” We bolted down the far side of the rock face toward the creek, the three of us slipping on crumbling stones until we hit level ground and could climb onto our horses. I was sure Seth’s horse, Promise, was going to barrel straight up the ridge, but she veered sharply to the right and galloped off in the opposite direction.
Ever since I was young, I have always heard someone talking about Marquette. Part of this may be due to the fact that three of my neighbors have gone to Marquette and have absolutely loved it. Adding on to that, I have met even more people that have gone to Marquette that have really liked it and are usually successful in life. I met even more people at the Marquette open house that were from all over the United States and said they went to Marquette and they hope their child will attend Marquette as well. This made me realize that Marquette is truly local, since I know several people that have gone to Marquette that live by me and at the same time it is global, since I have met people around the United States, as well as other countries that
There it was, the creaky staircase of the abandoned Delta Mental Asylum. I have no idea why I thought this was a good idea. I’m getting chills and it’s the middle of summer. At least I’m not alone my sister, Aubrey, is with me. We were just about to go up the stairs when I thought I heard giggles, but Aubrey said I was just being paranoid.
It was a Friday night. We were thrilled to be out of school, it had been a long week. I was on a short leash with my teachers since me and my pals Barry and John brought stink bombs to school and stunk up the whole cafeteria. At least twenty kids had to go home sick. Needless to say, it was the prank of the year.
It was an autumn morning- the crisp September breeze was rattling the newly bare tree limbs, leaves of crimson red, orange and golden tones covered the ground like a soft blanket, and the smell of freshly bailed hay roamed the little parking lot full of vendors. As I got out of my car to walk under the festive tents a lady who seemed quite important and knowledgeable about the Bridgeport Farmers Market walked by ringing a bell. People started traveling through the tents discussing with vendors and other shoppers about an array of things; like the weather or ‘this eggplant color is so rich’ or ‘the healing power of the cookbook.’ Quickly, the small little shopping center that was filled with vibrant colored fruits, vegetables, and flowers became extremely loud. Conversations and chatter were surrounding me as I began to enter the tiny outdoor supermarket.
Vivian Key is four years old and halfway through scarfing down a bowl of applesauce when her mother says, “Vivvy, don’t play with your food.” Vivian pauses in the middle of waving her (unused) spoon around like a wand and pouts. “Why?” she asks, scooping up another glob of applesauce with her fingers. “I’m a fairy.”
I, Monica Baltazar was born, on February 16th, 1978 in Irapuato, Guanajuato Mexico. I came to the United States to have better opportunities and to improve my living conditions. I worked in a restaurant and that’s where, I meet Cesar Gonzalez. We were young and naive which resulted in my pregnancy. I moved in with him because, I wanted my children to have a paternal figure in his life.
On the outside, Sage Foster looked like an average twenty-eight year old woman. Medium length, curled ash brown hair rested against her pale white skin. Her light brown almond shaped eyes were the best feature of her small feminine face. She married an average man, Mark Foster, who was a lawyer and provided for their family. Her suburban home, was the envy of all their neighbors, as it is furnished and decorated with perfection.
Kelly We arrived at some trees and found something that could help out until we get out of here, three trailers and a porch that had been covered. Gina broke inside one after another surprised but disappointed she knew how but that was not the point inside was old oatmeal jerky that had turned white and beans, that smelled like a racoon cage we can last on this for a few weeks but that doesn’t mean we stop looking for help understand girls, cause if we don 't get out of here there is not a good chance of living. They soon began to realize it and teared up with fear We found two matresses musty and soft, from off of the porch. It was a hard night i couldn 't sleep in the heat.
The bells echo in my head as I struggle to wake up. I see my brothers Henry, and Harrison are slowly waking up straw attached to their clothes from their bed which they shared. My mother was the first to leave for the factory she left with black bags under eyes from lack of rest. She worked the most these days, her job was at the cotton mill. I remember how my mother used to be a happy, caring women, that 's not how it is anymore she doesn 't say anything to us anymore she just works and makes dinner, he hair was now streaked with grey her eyes darker than I have ever seen
Imagine a house out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing surrounding it but woods, for as far as the eye can see. Huge mountains that are miles away would seem as if they are touching the sky. Thousands of acres of untamed wilderness just waiting to be explored. Wide open fields and woods so thick you can barely see through them. Huge pine trees surrounding a crystal clear stream in the middle of the valley.
There’s no point of going to school, nothing ever changes. Same fresh cut grass smell, same kids yelling, same creepy guy at night. Everything’s the same. Not even the cold, dry, weather changes. I feel like I’m living the same day over and over again.