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Help With Creative Writing Papers
Personal Writing: History Of Pete Dalberg Family
... to America. According to one tape I have, that my
mother gave me. She said that the oldest child stayed in Sweden. I am not sure.
Yet on another tape my Mother said that he had 5 sisters and no brothers that
were living. There may have been one who stayed in Sweden, the oldest.
Now I do not remember all the first names of his sisters. Terry Johnson
Rierson came to America first. She actually was sent for by her husband who
lived in Wisconsin working in a mill. They were married in Wisconsin. After he
died and she had come to Idaho she then married Rierson. Anna Dalberg, Emma
Swanson then two sisters ...
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Personal Writing: Nothing Can Bring You Peace But Yourself
... only four weeks earlier, but I had already
missed her greatly. We had been friends since the 9th grade. In the
beginning we were enemies; we hated each other. Oh, how we fought! One
time she accused me of taking her purse, knowing what a notorious prankster
I was, even though I had no idea what she was talking about. Later she
found her purse in her friends locker. It seems she had forgotten she had
put it there. This turned out to be the first, but not the last, accident
that would occur. What didn't we argue about? After about, four years,
we became the best friends ever. We were perfectly compatible w ...
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Personal Writing: The House Of My Dreams
... of the hallway are covered with
expensive paintings. To the left of the bottom of the staircase is the
entrance to the living room. The furniture in the living room is made of
black leather that catches the reflection of the burning fire in the fire
place positioned in the center of the wall.
At the end of the stairs you see a large wooden door, as you open
it, you find yourself in a gigantic library. All of the books are placed in
alphabetical order and contain most of the topics.
To the left of the library there are countless doors on both sides
of the hallway. Each door is the entrance to a room that is made for ...
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Personal Writing: After "Casino"
... missed the car, which was true. Just then his buddy from inside the
car asks me if I have a problem. I say no I don't but I would if there was
pee on my car. What? He says. I said it's cool, there's no pee on my car,
it's pretty damn disrespectful to be pissin' on someone's car.
And with that it was over I walked away with Ryan (who had joined
me) back to his car. On the way over to his car I mentioned to him how I
wouldn't have had that attitude with they guy if we hadn't seen that type
of movie.
I guess the fellow in the car still thought I had a problem because
he pulled his truck up, got out, and got up in my ...
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Personal Writing: The Burnside Project
... creeps into the corner of
my eye while I inspect my shoes. I scrub the soles back and forth on the
pavement, out of habit, to insure a dry surface. I don't bother to watch
him. I can hear him rolling smoothly down low. His slow, relaxed warm up
run tells me he probably arrived short time ago. He makes his way up the
back wall and his wheels go silent. The other one puts his foot on his
tail and effortlessly rolls his truck over the coping. I watch him quickly
drop away and coast to the hip. He glides past it, and I start to notice
the entire view before me as he blends into a larger picture.
I see grey. ...
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Creative Story: Day The World Turned Black
... into nothing and
something pushing it in. They change their course and follow the sun. As they
get there, they realize that they are also being pulled in along with the sun
and that their decision is at this point irrevocable. The funny thing was that
the sun emanated no heat and that the moon started to glow much brighter than
normal. It turns out that the moon was now supplying the earth with the heat
that was needed to keep most happy. The sun, and both ships are now closed up
in the thing and are increasing their velocity as they head for some minuscule
object way in the distance.
The team of explor ...
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Creative Writing: Revenge Of The Hacker
... understand even if he did. What is
this mysterious characteristic you ask?, almost every day when Rich
finished with the tyranny of school he went home to practice the main
ceremony to this "secret life." He would get comfortable turn on the TV
or radio and become an instant celebrity around the world. Ri ch was a
computer "hacker." Known to all those brave souls who dared the
"information highway" as Hax0r, Rich would penetrate computer systems
locally and around the world. Never malicious in his endeavors he sat back
and explored what seemed to be another dimension to the every day "lamer."
Rich was not al ...
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Personal Writing: A Schoolyard Lesson
... the kitchen and snatched my lunch box off
the counter. Soon I was out the door and on to face my first day at my new
school.
After defeating the labyrinth of streets that we call our neighborhood,
and meeting my first crossing guard; I made my way into the school. It was
quite crowded , but I knew where I was headed. I proceeded up the stairs and
down the hall to room 212, where I sat down in the front row. I turned around
and took a quick peak at the class; scanning the room for someone to talk to.
When I saw no opportunities I began to get a bit timid, but as soon as the bell
rang I felt all right.
We wen ...
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Graduation
... and gown. The principal, Mr. James
Cavallo, called out everyone’s name and proceeded to hand them their cap and
gown. When he finally handed me my gown I quickly took it and sat to me admire
it. Its funny how the simplest things can symbolize a whole new beginning. I
sat and looked at this ugly maroon gown with this weird looking square hat.
The ceremonies were to be held at the Mullins Center on the campus of
the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. The ceremonies were to begin at
7:00p.m., yet I had to be there at 6:00p.m.. When everyone arrived we
rehearsed on how we were to walk in and where we wer ...
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Creative Writing: Sycamore Street
... smiled and flashed the six gold’s that covered his front teeth.
Local kids lined up on the side of the street, chasing down cars
that rolled by. One lonely six-year-old boy, sat close to a tree rapidly
banging nails in the roots. Lying face down, one kid pretended he was
swimming in the dirt. He jumped up and raised both hands in excitement, as
if he had won the gold medal for dirt swimming in the 2000 Ghetto Olympics.
Teenage girls lined up like militant soldiers moving in the same sequence
to B.G.’s “Bling-Bling”
Everyone looked up and stared as the very noticeable squad car
crept by, hoping to sha ...
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