One Mistake, One Life How did I get myself into this mess? I thought to myself as I pulled against the ropes that bound me to the chair. I looked all around me, the walls were made of large bricks scarcely decorated with crippling wallpaper. A small light bulb on a single cord hung directly above my head. It flickered on and off which was somehow making me more nervous. I tried moving again, obviously no luck. My head began to spin, I couldn’t see straight, my hands, I can't feel my hands. The rope is bound so tightly, my hands are like tomato's, large swollen and bright red. At any moment, any moment my hands, no more. The door on the other side of the room opened slowly and a man in a black suit came out. I had seen him before. His name was Ricky, he was the guy they brought in when something really big needed done. I knew what I was in for. He snapped on a pair of rubber gloves he pulled from his pocket and took off his jacket. He walked slowly up to the chair. Our eyes met, his emotionless, lifeless, like a zombie. This is it I thought, all over, finally. …show more content…
Remembering my mother, her beautiful face. I remember going to the meadow, we used to go there, for dad. He loved that place with the grateful green grass and the picture perfect sky. Happiness, everyday just trying to be happy. Until it all changed. Dad left then everyday was a struggle to just survive. He kept his gaze trying to communicate through a hard thorough death stare. I broke the contest and returned my gaze to the hard ground and tried to look for the red splotches that randomly decorated the otherwise bare concrete floor. The normal practice to let the time pass. Nervously I waited, waiting for the next stage of my life, hopefully a part of no pain and eternal happiness. In another world, hopefully,
Hello again, I am so sorry I’ve emailed you so many times but I would really really like to meet one on one with Gerardo. My initial meeting that was scheduled for February 14th, I had to cancel due to being very sick and not wanting to spread it to him or his family. Are there any open slots? God bless, Rachal Adent
Day after day in a place where time does not pass, he was alone. Breaking down a little more each time he remembered the laughs of the past he apparently once lived. This is not my life. The old man with his outstretched hand just waiting, waiting for someone to call for him and bring him back to reality was him not a joyful joke or play. It is over for me.
The transition from eighth grade to ninth grade is one of the most difficult but unforgettable things a student must do in his adolescence. For me, it was filled with new opportunities of taking Ap classes and joining clubs. One of these cubs was Youth and Government (Y&G). For as long as I can remember my brother, Riad, has boasted about how amazing Y&G is and how it has changed his life. My brother is three years older then me, so as a freshman he was a senior in Y&G.
All he was aware of was the door finally creaking open. His limp head shot up, his dreary eyes open wide. He wasn't sure what to expect. A prole brining him out into the fray? Or a Party member coming to put a bullet through his head before he could be
While strange shapes would show, and so would colors, I began to get dizzy, trying to avoid the terrifying spiders and what was said to be vicious scorpions and snakes, I became hopeless not able to hold my imagination and not knowing what was reality, I became hungry. I became so hungry that I began to eat the baby spiders crawling up my throbbing leg and as the day became longer the more I became lonelier not knowing what the future would hold for me. As the night grew darker so did the noise and creaking I heard, not knowing where the mysterious noise had come from I became severally frightened. While wishing my peers were here to comfort me, I began to think about how enraged they must be with me for shattering the majestic carpet. Soon I began to doubt the forgiveness of my peers.
I reached an office block and began climbing up the stairs. I walked two steps at a time, my mind consumed with the thought of the beautiful act of rebellion I had committed. I reached the final flight of stairs, my lungs struggling inside my chest as I took those last few steps and ambled out onto the roof of the building. I staggered towards the edge of the building where I gazed across the fading landscape around me. I checked my watch: 6:07am.
I walked out of the door into the long hallway and began to walk around the asylum. I saw a large window
Time seemed to stop, and I was the only one brave enough to approach it. My fingers stretched out, and I expected to fall through: the hall, no matter how blurry, was still there. I expected to feel the heat of a fire. But rather than heat my arm was emerged in cold and disappeared into thin air.
Fresh Meat As I looked down the dimly lit hallway, thoughts in my mind raced, as my heart viciously paced. I would later learn that that particular hallway, leading to the cells, was called the Trail to Hell. Because prison, especially this prison, with these bitch ass guards, is hell. No way around that.
It was scary and the sound of the bell. Every time if someone rings our door bell, it scares me. It was a difficult time to accept the reality that Im facing in front of me. But, the hardships and difficulty that I faced and more ature I get and finding my real self. Life is so complicated, is like a maze that it can be going around and around to find the truth answer to your questions.
“I just put down an unbeatable monster”. It snickered away as I pushed it down deep into the abyss of my heart, hoping that it will go away. I wrapped my arms around her and immediately felt the pulsing warmth coming out of her that made feel like I’m back where I’m supposed to
One of my favorite memories growing up is how much time I spent reading. Whenever I got a new book I couldn 't put it down. I remember that I would always read on the bus ride home. Reading was something that I liked to do. As I’ve gotten older my choice of books has changed alot, a different genre for each of my phases.
I can't see anything. The darkness is suffocatingly thick as if I can’t breathe. My breathing began to quicken due to the lack of air but out of nowhere I am yanked from the pitch black by a hand larger than my small body. I don't know where I am, I haven't for all my life. I think to myself, "Where am I going now?"
I had known I was done. At this point the fear turned into a huge amount of anxiety. I swiftly and fastly moved* down the steps and opened the door. While I stood against the wall.
Hostage By Merald Ayson Short Story The smell of death, lingering as if I have been here all my life. The bleak darkness screams into a harmony of dissonance, looking me in the eye as if to tease. In a puddle of wet and pungent materials and fluids I lay motionless; I do not remember how I even got there in the first place. My heart was rattled as I heard heavy footsteps; it was as if a giant was entering the room.