...Nobody at Kenowa Hills knows why I moved here or that I have a family that I never talk about. No one except for three people know truly why I am, who I am today. I just hate talking about it. The event itself and the events after are pretty awful, but I like to think that I’ve learned a lot about who I am through it all. Sundays were always hard because I never liked going back to Haslett. I love Grand Rapids and my mom and stepdad and I never wanted to leave for a whole week. That Sunday was probably the worst one I can remember yet. Earlier in the night Dad and Angie (step-mom) were fighting but that was normal for any night. I remember thinking about how stupid the fight was. All of their fights were meaningless but it wouldn’t be a normal...
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...Get Up, Stand Up When it comes to authority figures most people cower in their presence. People are sometimes too afraid to stand up for themselves when they think the authority figure is wrong. To a certain extent this is acceptable because authority figures are supposed to guide you and keep you safe. Nevertheless, when an authority figure asks you to do something you know is wrong it's up to you to be brave. This is what I do when an authority figure is wrong. It could be a teacher or coach, and if they are doing something wrong I will call them out on it. When I moved to in Chatham in sixth grade, I realized this is not the case for most of my classmates. I witnessed multiple students blindly accept punishment or chastisement from a teacher even when the teacher was...
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...One day long ago (about a year) there was the most dreaded day ever, the first day of boot camp. Going into 6th grade at stem means you are required to go to boot camp and learn about what to do and where to go, horrifying, right? Let me set the scene, I was walking down the cold fluorescent hallway and I started to speed up and then I quickly turned the corner then bam i ran right into this really tall eighth grader luckily I wasn't carrying anything at the time so, I just kept on walking, Walking down the hallway, to my locker, to the the lock turning it aggressive till click,click,click,ding, it opened. I grabbed my IPad my notebook and my pencil case then bam I slammed it shut, then ding the lock was closed. Almost late I raised across...
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...Have you ever thought of the Hoggard cafeteria building as being a jungle you are required fight your way through every day just to collect your own small bowl --or tray-- of heaven we call school lunch? SMART lunch should be a time to study, finish homework, or unwind. But how can a person focus with people crashing through the hall in the fashion of a herd of elephants or screeching not unlike chimps fighting for the ripest banana? My only escape is the chorus room, nevertheless, even the brief fifty-foot walk down the hall is unnecessarily difficult and occasionally dangerous. On one occasion, due to the behavior exhibited in the hallway, I was almost provoked into creating a scene of my own. As expected, the cafeteria building was chaos necessitating me to weave and dodge through the crowd, however, this time after paying for my lunch, little did I know, I would be...
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...at sports. He is even captain of the high school football team. He is very smart and has a good relationship with his parents. THE PARK WEEKEND- SATURDAY AFTERNOON ANTHONY and his friend David are in the park playing catch with a football. ANTHONY goes up for a huge catch down the field and starts running until he hears a loud sound (SOUND OF A CAR STOPPING VERY RAPPIDLY). The man coming out of the car says “my name is Billy”. ANTHONY and David tell Billy “hello”. Billy starts playing catch with ANTHONY and David. Then Billy starts acting weird asking David random questions that sounded weird like “do you have any wine on you”? Until ANTHONY says “David we got to get home”. David agreed and they left. SCHOOL HALLWAY-MONDAY ANTHONY and David are talking in the hallway before school until Billy cuts into their conversation. David tells Billy “what’s your problem”. Billy says “nothing”. Billy looked awful he...
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...Walking down the protracted tiled hallway my recently polished shoes squeaked, as the wide overhead lights glared down upon my shoulders. Behind me, trailed an old black carry-on suitcase whose wheels seemed like they would break with every turn and whose fabric was so thin I was afraid the contents would rip through. As I rounded the corner, I realized that I had finally reached my destination, terminal 7B. Straightening my tie I looked around through the rows of families and other businessmen who desperately attune themselves on the mangled blue leather seats trying to get comfortable. Finding no seat I walked over to the side and sat on the ground. The trip that awaited me would be a brisk three-day excursion to the A-grade Investments...
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...On 2/4/18 at approximately 03:58 I (Officer Ramirez#212) was dispatched to Miramar Harbor Hall room #3117 located at (6515 Ocean Drive Corpus Christi TX, 78412 on the Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi) in reference to reporting party Callie Browning (student/resident) someone had been spying inside her apartment and within the hallway. Upon arrival as I made entry into Harbor Hall I noticed a Browning along with Resident Advisor Marco Micalay Hurtado (student/resident) standing on the hallway. Browning was very distressed. I asked Browning and Hurtado to take a seat inside the common area to which they both complied. Browning stated she would hear little commentaries about everything she did while in her bedroom and believed it was coming from Keegan and his voice would get louder and louder as the days went by. Note: Reese lives on the same floor two rooms away from browning. Reese's Room is approximately 30 feet away in the same side and there are two other rooms between Reese's and Browning's room. Room #1113 and 1115. Browning then stated she went over to Keegan Reese (student/resident) room #3111 in Harbor Hall and knocked on his door and asked him if he had called her name. Browning stated Reese had told her ''no but there's defiantly been some surveillance.'' At that point Browning stated to cry and hyperventilate. I...
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...stood in between them and Emile cleared his throat to calm the crowd again. “Aubrey, as you all know, is the whole reason that we are going into this little challenge so I figured that we should include her in this party somehow. She is going to be our goal in the arena. We want to bring her to our different posts on opposite sides of the arena. Whoever gets her to their posts or kills her first wins.” Emile smiled as the crowd erupted into cheer at the newfound twist. “Alright, let’s do this!” Emile said and the crowd of ever growing wolves continued to cheer. I ran over to Shay and he pulled me into a tight hug. I was shaking now as he shushed me quietly. “He is going to kill me Shay.” I choked out through my tears. “Why are these people so cruel? Don’t they see what Emile is doing here? He doesn’t care about me! He only wants to hurt...
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...decided to give him a raincheck and create a better answer, I applied for college that day. There was the option to try for something online, to continue to stay in my home and hide from the world, but that would not show my kids how I wanted them to live. Wanting them to be fearless and daring in their choices I decided to do the same, making sure my classes would be at a crowded University. The scariest moment was walking into my first class, picking the front desk closest to the door that way I did not have to see how many people were in the class and I could leave easily whenever the internal panic would become too much. Somehow, I made it through that class without running out of the room, then entered crowded hallways that tightened my chest making it hard to breath to the point that I received a few glances. Climbing staircases without hearing my own footfalls because of my heart pounding in my ears, every hallway reminding me of that one hallway that changed that carefree, innocent, extroverted girl into the sweating one avoiding all eye...
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...Abigail’s locker is decorated in memory of her. No one has opened her locker to see what’s inside. Although, somebody should open it soon. There is a little something inside that’s important to some people. It’s been a month after Abigail's passing, Jack went to clean out her locker. Inside was a box, inside of that box held tapes. He takes the box home with him and decides to listen to the first one. “Hi, my name is Abigail Smith. I’m about to tell you my story. More importantly, my story on how I died. If you’re listening to this, you’re one of the reasons why. Fear not, if you’ve received this little box your name will pop up sometime, why would a dead girl lie? Hey, that sounds like a joke. Why would a dead girl lie, answer, because she can’t stand up. Go ahead, laugh. Oh well I thought it was funny. There are two rules. First, listen carefully. Two, pass the tapes along. None of this should be easy, I made sure of that. In case you decide to break the rules, I’ve made copies of the tapes and will be put out in a public way if it does not get passed to everyone.” Jack listened until he heard his name. He was the first person she talked about. He was confused as to how he could be...
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...else around me, even though there is barely anyone in this secluded area as it is. A sudden movement catches my attention on the left side of the house and my heart thrashes harshly in my chest. Anxiety rushes over me as I watch the front door slowly open towards me and I see both of them standing in the narrow hall way in the middle of a heated argument. The words nearly incoherent to me, I struggle to hear the content of their disagreement, but its impossible with the sound of the bitter wind outside. Suddenly, I'm being pulled forward into the house, racing through an ending obstacle course through the disaster they called home. Their yelling, or his to be exact, echoes off the walls and sounds as if they're right in my ear. A force stops me at the bottom of the stairs where the kitchen is to my right, trashed as if a tornado had just blown through. My vision zooms in on the counter top where there is a small splatter of blood on the corner as if someone had been holding onto it with a bloody hand moments before. There are footsteps shuffling upstairs, but my mind focuses on the droplets of blood leading over to the stairs. A vase or something similar is thrown at the wall in the hallway, and I'm rushed once more to the scene of the crime. This part is all too familiar to me, but instead of the typical view of the man's wife on the bedroom floor, her body flies into the wall at the...
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...looks up from the paper she was reading, “River Springs, am I correct?” Jim nods, “Yes, this is River.” The receptionist calls the nurse to come to the front through a walkie-talkie. “The nurse is on her way,” River looks around, nothing about this place seems in line, she thought. As she was thinking the nurse walked up to River, she had a white outfit on which included sanitary gloves and closed toe shoes. The nurse also had brown hair, which was styled in a bob. “Hello River I am your nurse. Nurses here are like your mental helper, does that make sense?” River nods and the cop lets go of River. River walks up to the nurse, “I’ll show you around Amore Asylum.” The nurse walked through a set of doors which led to a long white hallway, “this is the hallway that is the main entrance to the patient part of the asylum,” River nods, “how come you're not going to put me in some sort of restraint?” The nurse waves her hand dismissively and holds up her ID. The person looked at it and opened the lock doors that lead to the courtyard of the Asylum. “This is the courtyard, where you will go for outside time,” they walked pass a couple of doors that said: Do Not Enter. River stopped walking for a moment, “excuse me Ms. Nurse, what are behind those doors?” The nurse turned around, “Just electrical, storage, and stuff like that.” I seriously doubt that, River thought as the nurse started to walk again. The nurse also showed River where she would eat, where she could build her skills, and different...
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...Interpretation of the Unconscious Mind You’re being chased by a monster down the hallway of your childhood home. The hallway goes on forever and it feels like you’ve been running for miles. Every time it seems like the monster is about to catch it’s dinner (you), all of a sudden you get that tiny extra burst of speed to just escape his grasps. With no resolution in sight, you make a break for the nearest door. When you open the door it’s your dead grandmother taking a bath. What!? These are the kind of silly and seemingly unexplainable instances that occur in our unconscious sleep every night when we go to bed. Contrary to what you may think, these ridiculous dreams that almost resemble cartoons more than real life, do actually have a significant impact on our emotional state, and for the most part are based on our own anxieties, desires, and memories. In this essay I’m going to attempt to analyze a current dream I’ve had and interpret the meaning and origin of this dream using the sources available to me. I’m standing on a steep grass hill, looking out over a shallow and narrow valley that appears to have been cut of the landscape like a spoon would do to a tub of ice cream. Inside this crevice is a highway I’ve never seen before, with cars zooming down the road at high speeds. Above the highway is an overpassing bridge with more fast and noisy cars. On the opposite side of this speedway that I’m standing along is my beloved dog, who I’ve raised since he was six weeks old. He’s going...
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...fool-old man living. Twice width of the bridge, taking down old haunted house. Mails sent, mails back. The old man playing give-and-back and hide and seek with superior councils, Full of self- assurance. Here. Standing in front of that worn, chapped doorway. Looking for a way to convince the old man. Once the door open, plain white curtain covering all the undiscovered arts. Trying to have a peek, but can’t. Day by day, hour by hour, going back to persuade him to move out. Superior councils struck down two houses to make the old man furtive and worried. They are sure the old man can’t endure and leave his house. “The old man is teeming from the wash-house into his house, go help him!” Mrs Withman said as she rang our house. Drunk, recumbent his back on the hallway, suffocating as he breathe. “it’s all right now” I said. From that worn chapped doorway to the art and homage of the man outing by me. Scintillating crystal around except the floor. Red Vineyard, Little Pear Tree, View of Arles with Irises, floppy the house. “It has taken years to do, years to do”. Dying man. Like clay in the passage the old man is. Plucked chicken with just a few small veins high on cheeks. All the purpose and vision had gone and was on the wall, about us. Sirens heard, nurses came. Just standing there, “Christ Almighty” only the word left. He won’t die, he won’t die. Wrecked, rout pictures all over the house. RAINBOW JOHNSTON. Brawn tools taken away by Old’s nephew. Leaving nothing but indifference...
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...Samantha Costello 11/1/13 ENG 127 The Vacation House Bergen County is located in Northern New Jersey, just a short train ride away from New York City. This area, prior to World War II, was a huge resort area. Many wealthy families would come during the summer months to vacation and spend quality time with family and friends. Because of the close proximity to New York City, trains were filled with people constantly coming and going. Greenwood Lake was an interstate lake, lying in both New Jersey and New York State. During the resort era, several steamboats operated on the lake and they would meet the trains and take passengers to various resorts around the water in both states. After World War II and till this day, the area went under major renovations to change from a resort area to year round residences. A fellow friend of mine and resident of Bergen County was kind enough to share her experiences with the supernatural, all which occurred right under her own roof. It is not surprising that an area with so much history and life would generate ghostly phenomena. What makes this ghost story so interesting is that it is so unexpected. Sitting on a cold bench, right before practice, I figured I would ask around to see if anyone had any good ghost stories to tell. Little did I know that I would find one that would send chills down my spine. As the oldest sibling growing up in their two story house in Bergen county, Dana remembers a lot of her childhood as well as her...
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