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    I felt expelled and exiled‚ sitting in a room filled only with a bed. White walls which painted no imagination‚ no hope just emptiness; yet they still assured me I was meant to be here. Every day was the same as the last‚ every memory I captured had slowly escaped. I was considered dangerous‚ vile and out of control; these words constantly surrounded me‚ swirling around in the echoes of the halls. 15 years I have been here‚ and still not once has my voice box being strained. Everyday new comers

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    Descriptive Writing Task The aim of this lesson is to write a piece of original writing about a deserted house. You and your friend have just finished school and on the way home and you need shelter from the sudden change in weather. You see a deserted house and decide to enter it. Describe in detail the appearance of the house and the path that leads up to the front door. How do you feel as you approach? What type of door do you enter? Imagine that you have gone through the doorway

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    neither their parents nor themselves paid for. Then again most 15 year olds don’t date 19 year old guys with scraggily beards. I did though; that was normal for me. This new group of so called “friends” I had. A group far too old for me and introducing me to nearly everything: alcohol‚ cigarettes‚ marijuana… the list continues. Though my parents knew of this new group of friends I had in my social circle‚ I had seemingly convinced them both I was too old for them to talk to parents. Convincing mom

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    Theme = Belonging and Alienation *** = Time shift Jim left the as it bellowed dust when it left taxi the gazed on the side of the dirt road and saw the farm where he grew up‚ it was old and bare‚ like an African village‚ the animals were thin from the drought. As Jim walked down to the gate‚ his childhood memories came flooding back and he hung his head in disbelief at the state of the farm. “Hey son! Come in.” Jim continued to the brick farmhouse‚ greeted by his father‚ 6ft with a beard of

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    New me; new house; new school; new everything... That’s what the annoying‚ obnoxious creature inside my addled brain repeated over and over; a moronic mantra. I loathe them and their cheap‚ over – the – counter perfume‚ their pathetic pouts constantly asking me “Are you ok?” Obviously I’m not “ok”: Trapped in this terrible tirade of torture... I’m Bo‚ currently 16 years old and counting down days to a well-deserved death; I have a scar straight down my face to my neck; just moved house to

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    Re-creations ESSAY PLAN A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM * descriptive piece on how I envisage my MSND‚ takes place in an arboretum‚ been there before several times‚ tranquil‚ beautiful‚ magical‚ mysterious‚ near a small village behind local pub‚ old church opposite‚ pub was once a nunnery in 16th C‚ joined to church by underground passage‚ nun attended trees‚ honesty box * my dream‚ walk towards shallow pond‚ barefoot‚ warm day‚ ot sweaty or overheating‚ long golden hair‚ nude but not exposed

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    Shelby and Mira’s story from Freshmen Year Once upon a time‚ there were two crazy girls named Shelby and Mira. Shelby was crazy because she laughed all the time and Mira was crazy because she was an Asian and wasn’t smart. They became friends in middle school when they read The Adventure of Tom Sawyer to each other in English class. What weirdos. Mira is also crazy because she can’t spell the word weird and she is a freshman. One day Shelby and Mira were walking down the hall with their awesome

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    She woke early one Saturday morning with the room a dim yellow as the sun searched for a way into her room. As her mother entered the room‚ she drew back the curtains‚ and the bright rays of sun warmed her face. The wind entered her open window on that beautiful June morning‚ and it tickled her nose as it reached her. “Up‚ up‚ up‚” her mother exclaimed. “It’s a big day today‚ and you can’t stay in bed another minute! We have an appointment!” After minutes of battling her bed‚ she finally managed

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    Jack heaved the creaking door open until he had created just enough space to squeeze through. As he stepped cautiously into the dark room‚ a cloud of dust awoke from where it had sat dormant‚ making Jack’s eyes water. Clearing his throat quietly‚ he looked around‚ before perching precariously on the corner of a cluttered desk. Jack picked up the nearest thing to him; a stained taupe1 leather diary‚ locked with only an abandoned cobweb‚ the key long since scuttled away. Opening the fragile cover carefully

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    Congratulations. Five syllables. One word. A million sparks of energy surge through my body sending my every nerve into a hypnotic awe. It was as though you were falling in a dream and being kicked out of it. A moment of realisation… this must be just a dream‚ and for that reason alone I refuse to let it sink into my conscience. The world will remain a tone‚ a sound wave having happened to penetrate through my very existence‚ bouncing off the walls of my ears. Those alike to me filled their faces

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