december, 1914 I am sorry if those words are scrawled. My hands are shaking with the adrenaline. Those dark, tench walls seem to be closing in on me, suffocating me. All i can smell the think, dank smoke. Splatters of crimson blood drip here and there i cannot bear to look.
I just ran. Down the hill and up the driveway onto the front porch of their house. I stripped down to my underwear and stood there brushing off my attackers. My body had gone numb. Jacket after jacket departed for their destroyed home, sure that they had made their point, until I was left alone on the front porch, in my boxers.
No warm hugs or soft hands. And then…blackness. A bright light shines upon my eyelids forcing me to awaken. The light above beats down upon me and my throat burns with each breath. Water.
The roads looked like thick lines on a map, the trees like planes of grass, and the people; I could barely see them at all! So to keep my mind away from it all, I decided not to look down but to look at how beautiful the clouds were. The clouds felt like a quiet storm to my soul, and the solution to my problems. But that feeling erased from my mind instantly because we then started running into potholes.. My stomach felt as though it was flipping through circular hoops and dropping down steep hills with every pothole that we encountered. Each encounter was one more step closer to me losing everything that I had eaten before I boarded the plane.
Amanda Sechler Eng-111-04 Due: September, 20, 2010 Narrative Essay Final: A Moment in a Rednecks Heaven It is the weekend of September the fourth through the sixth. I am on vacation in Chester, South Carolina with a few friends and my mother. At approximately nine thirty in the morning, on September the fifth, I wake up with an enormous headache. I want to see if taking a hot shower will help soothe my pain. I just knew I was with a bunch of rednecks when I attempt to take a shower, and notice that the only way to turn the shower on is with the screwdriver lying beside the bath tub.
Third World Problems You can feel the warmth of the person’s body in front of you radiating off their back. The smell of sweat and fear overwhelms the disturbing smell of the hallway. The smell that has become so familiar of burning bodies has become unbearably barbaric in this moment. It’s dark and even with the hundreds of people surrounding you; you still manage to feel completely isolated. All that can be heard is the faint screams for help, and the pounding of your heart, hard like it’s trying to escape your chest.
Oh God, please tell them I’m not the one blameworthy!” I started to clasp the bars even more. Atticus reached over and grabbed my wrists and looked at me, straight dead into my eyes. “Now listen here Mr. Robinson, you shall not give up on hope just yet, and I am not leaving your side. I shall do everything in my power to get you to your wife and kids again, don’t you worry.” At that very moment, I was immobilized. I slide down to my knees, and felt a single tear drop slide down my cheek.
When suddenly I felt as if I was shrinking, falling as those eyes burnt within me, I screamed. My head began to whirl, I crashed to the ground. “Neigghhhhhhh.” The foal awoke me; the scream blasted my ear drums, he was being attacked by a black silhouette. I rapidly leaped to my feet – I lost control of my body, I did attempt to save him, I did, but I didn’t make it. They were gone… I trekked the savage earth, i went on looking day and night .the small heart of fire, reminded me of Michael’s young sister.
She said, shaking slightly as he stepped behind her. His stubby finger prodding the bruise he'd created on her neck. "Atta girl." He grunted, kissing her cheek roughly. Her nostrils burned as she smelt the alcohol on his
I see men begging to have their feet removed, the flesh on their feet rotting away because of the chronic wet conditions in the trenches. I see the dozens of dead bodies of my fallen brethren accumulating in the trenches because it is too dangerous most times to give them a proper burial. I close my eyes today and still cannot escape the sounds of war–the constant gunfire, tank blasts, and the screams of men. I still see enemy soldiers overtaken by mustard gasses, blood streaming from their eyes and mouths and their desperate gasps for air. I remain inspired by my brothers, for we soldiers are able to keep our spirits high despite these conditions.