My Speech

My Speech
"Are kidding me he did not answer my calls!" I yell at the top of my lungs. "hey Sato why are you yelling?" asks my mother. "Oh! Hahaha my
friend didn 't answer my calls. That 's all." I awkwardly laugh. "well okay." My mom said while driving away from the parking lot. 'Well Andrew will
learn to answer me.' My phone started to buzz a whole bunch of times. I screamed and almost through my phone at the car window.
I got home, I was hungry and my phone is still buzzing. "Aye, I'm going to make myself some baked baloney." I start to cook when my mom starts to
tell me to turn my phone off. "I can't." I tell her. "How come you can't?" She asked me. "Well ifI do I can't laugh at how dumb Andrew is." She walks
into the kitchen. I start to get...show more content...
"Aye, Where you going?" Asked my mom. "Well Imma go do my homework." I run the rest of the way up the stairs. 'Haha I 'm not going to do my
homework until 9 o'clock.'
I look at my phone and see a thousand text messages from Andrew. "Dayuum! Andrew needs to chill!" I text back.
"Aye, What up Annie!"
"SATOKO!"
"Oooooooooooo, Dat my name!"
"Sato where were you!?"
"What you mean? XDDD"
"You weren't here after school!"
"What?"
"You weren't at your usual spot after school!"
"OH! I wasn't?"
"Oh Mein Gott SATO!"
"Damn Okiii XDDDD"
After about an hour of texting each other Andrew and I started to skype.
"Hellooo?" I asked. Starting to still play OverWatch.
"Hey whaz up?" Andrew said to me. 'I guess he doesn't realize it is video chat I can see him eating.
I watch him as he ate his Ramen noodles. "Aye! What you be eaten?" I asked.
Andrew almost Spat out his food. I watched at i laughed at him as he almost choked on his ramen noodles.
"Oh...My...Gott..." Andrew said out of breath. "You can't do that to me Sato."

I laugh at Andrew as I started to kill Reinhardt. I seen that Andrew had finished his Ramen.
"What flavor is the Ramen Boi." I ask not really paying attention.
"Huh?" Andrew asked retardedly.
"I asked what flavor is it?" I asked again getting annoyed that I can't destroy Reinhardt.
"Oh! It is spicy chicken."
I look at Andrew's face when he had realized what he had said.
"So... It is.." I start to say.
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People have imitated another person to be a one of a kind. People have modeled themselves on someone, doing every action they do. Bullying a
person physically with fists or verbally by hurting emotions when they see someone else do it. Vandalize a property by throwing eggs and liter at
someones home or business because they saw a popular person do it. Is it necessary to imitate others before they can become original and creative? To
some people, they think copying someone else will make them trendy, prominent, etc. However, you don't have to follow someone's footsteps to
become an unique individual, but to be yourself. People have become successful by coming up with their own theories, rules, and ideas. Such as Isaac
Newton and his Three Laws of Motion, or Albert Einstein and his Theory of Relativity along with his equation E=mc2. While some people are seeing
that hiding under someone's shadow will help them become creative and original in a way, others have chosen their own path, leading them to success
with their distinctive ideas, separating them from others, sticking out and having a vast mind. Imitating someone else before becoming original and
creative is wrong and that it isn't necessary to imitate others
Duplicating another person's personality and traits can have a negative influence on the imitator. For example, when a boy sees a popular person at his
school and he wants to be popular, he'll try to do what the other individual is doing. Probably because he thinks

One Stormy Night
One Stormy Night – Original Writing The sudden, swift, severe summer storm caught me totally unaware. I was walking down Old tree Road when
the clouds started to build. I looked around as I huddled under a large, dead oak tree. Almost all of the houses on this abandoned street were too badly
damaged for me to take shelter in, except for the one. The house loomed impressive and morbid in the greenish–black sky. A flash of lightning briefly
illuminated the house. The windows were broken, but the superstructure seemed to be in good condition. I was becoming soaked as I pondered upon
my dilemma. Whether to stay under the tree and risk getting hit by lightning or should I go into that old house,...show more content...
My lantern, my best friend at the moment, showed off ancient paintings of a red–haired man with angular features and a host of antiques. Over a
marble fireplace, in the far side of the room, hung a silvered mirror with plump, little cherubs surrounding it. Crash. I jumped and almost dropped the
lantern. My heart stopped as I listened for another sound. The silence throbbed in my ears. I stood at the bottom of the staircase. The sounds had
come from upstairs. I swallowed my fears and climbed the stairs. On the second floor, I found a bathroom so obsolete that it didn't even have any
running water. I left it undisturbed. I found several bedrooms laden with cloth–covered antiques, moth–ridden clothes that may once have been
beautiful. At the end of the second floor, I found yet another stair well. This one was dark and coated with lacy spider webs. It led to what must
have been a children's play area at one point. There was a play room that took up most of the space, along with two bedrooms with dainty furniture,
and the nurse's room. What I mistook for a closet at first was really a narrow flight of stairs that lead into the attic. A giant rat scampered across my
feet. Its beady eyes glowed red in the flicker in the lantern light. It hissed at me. I screamed and dropped my lantern. Suddenly, I was plunged into
utter darkness. I took several deep

My Memories
I couldn 't believe what had just happened. I kept running, breathing out of control. My feet were sore and my lungs were aching. Tree branches
were scraping my arms as I ran past them. Urging myself to keep on going. It was too late to look back now. I was running for my freedom and
nothing was going to stop me. Not the sharp twigs stabbing at my feet as I ran or the misty fog blocking my clear path ahead. Nothing. It was
really going to happen. All I needed to do was make it through the trees and onto a road. I couldn 't give up no matter what. I was certain there was
a road through here. There had to be. We came in on a road. Or I am so freaked out I 'm imaging things? Oh my, where could it be? Stay calm.
Breathe. Just keep running. There was no time to panic. My breaths were erratic and all over the place. I could feel my anxiety taking over. I was
soaking wet with sweat and filthy from the trees. The weakness was wanting to make my body shut down but I wasn 't ready to give up yet.
Resting could wait. I need to find help soon or even a phone. Just as I was about to take off running bright lights shown from the right side of me.
Yes! A car. The road must be that way. Thank goodness. I took off running like a crazy person. My feet were hitting the ground so hard you could
hear the noise a mile away. My legs along with every organ inside of me felt like they were on fire. Just a little further and I 'll be to safety. I could

Essay on Original Writing: Short Story
Original Writing: Short Story
It was the night of the year that few children can sleep. The night when everyone hopes that snow will fall and they will wake up to a garden of
glistening diamonds grown by the morning sun. It was Christmas Eve.
As many had hoped, snow was falling. It slowly covered the houses and streets in a thick blanket. The moon shone her silver light down on the
white world, and but for one, there was nobody to view the kind of beauty that things such as love and dreams are made of. The only one there to see
the spectacle was a small boy of five, or six years.
This little boy possessed a beauty not of this earth, a beauty that surpassed even all that surrounded him. His...show more content...
On the night that every other child wished for toys, and puppies, this little boy wished for love. And nothing more.
Finally, the little boy came to a stop, not wanting to ever take another step again. He raised his downcast eyes, and in front of him stood a church.
He remembered that he had been to church before, and the building that loomed above him stirred vague memories. The boy made himself stumble
a few more steps, and pressed his face to the glass door he had arrived at. He looked in, and saw the church was lit up inside. There was light coming
from behind a man on a big cross, and two huge Christmas trees shone in heavenly splendor. Looking at the man on the cross, he had a faint
recollection. He half–remembered, a long time ago, that someone reading from a big book had said that the man on the cross would come on
Christmas. That he came every Christmas.
The little boy supposed that if anyone would help him, it would be the man inside. He loved everyone. So, the little boy laid down in front of the
church, and as he slipped off into sleep, a glimmer of hope, that the man would come and save him from the cold and loneliness, warmed his heart.
The snow continued to fall, and bells jingled far in the distance. Presents were laid under trees, and visions of sugar plums danced in most children's
heads. But not the little boy who slept on the church steps under the winter

Assassin
Assassin – Original Writing
A drop of blood rolled down his hand; that bright colour red did not manage to bring about any emotions. He cast a thought back to his childhood when
he fell over and grazed his knee, the sight of blood made him wild. He was weak. Now he was as cold as a stone and after taking so many lives, after
seeing waterfalls of red gushing out of his victims.
The assassin was standing on a building crouching so that he would not be seen. He was a shadow of the night. The rain poured heavily drenching
everything. The temperature was dangerously low but he did not even shiver. The raindrops smashed against his scarred face, which was covered only
revealing those dark,...show more content...
A guard was patrolling carrying information. The guard's eyes opened with horror, struck by fear all he could say was "You!!" Before the guard could
take his next breath the assassin charged. A swift but hard blow to the chest left the guard unable to breathe. A thundering kick to the head dislocated
his neck and left him dead.
He looked into his victim's eyes and saw himself. He was as cold and as void of emotion as the dead body. He was death.
Once he was on top of the building it was time to wait again. It was strange that death himself was in a place of such beauty. The storm had calmed
down now and there was light rain with a gentle breeze. The shining of the moonlight illuminated everything. The small village was deserted;
everything was silent. There was a garden nearby which was enchanting. There were many exotic flowers all creating a bright and colourful effect.
He could see through some windows how a family was sat on the floor in a circle drinking tea. They were wearing white robes, which gleamed, under
the candlelit floor. White, it was such a pure colour. He was dressed all in black, an invisible being.
"Rickimaryu, pass me the tea," his master said, "what do you think?"
"It's very warm master, and sweet as well," the young man replied.
"Well you have been working

Original Writing Essay
Original Writing
I will be writing a story about an American Family, who has a very intelligent twelve year old child. Who has to undergo an Intelligence test, to see
how bright he actually is. After a few hours of waiting, the results return and prove to be conclusive, and, as a result the boy is forced to have his
brain removed. And replaced because he is seen as a threat to the future. It is either this, or faces Imprisonment.
''So, it's tomorrow then?'', groaned the twelve year old boy. His parents knew that yes, it was tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day when he would have to
undergo the intelligence test.
However, unlike most everyday tests, he did no preparation. This was because...show more content...
He sat rigidly towards the back of a tatty, old carriage, in silence, just pondering the journey ahead. The time between the stations felt like eternity–
have you ever noticed how time seems to go slower when you are anxious or nervous about something, although obviously the last minute is just as
long as the next one.
Only two more stops to go, and then it would be his turn to get off. Could he manage it? How would he feel? However he managed it or however he
felt, he knew it was something he just had to do, no matter the cost to him as an individual, and surely things couldn't be that bad – or could they? It
resembled your money or your life type situation, although, obviously, in this situation, it was your brain or your life type situation.
The next thing he knew, it was his turn to get off the train. A feeling of emptiness swept across him. What was he going to do now? For a second, he
contemplated disappearing but then, all of a sudden, he felt a feeling of disappointment, as he knew that that simply wasn't possible.
He just stood there, wondering what to do next. He started to walk slowly towards a desolate building, as he studied the map carefully.
In a flash, he realised he was going in the opposite direction and immediately proceeded to turn back again. The wind was howling and the clouds
looked like they where about to burst. To his surprise, within a few short

Narrative Essay
When I had laid the last of the bricks I took a step back to admire my handy work. Still silent in the catacombs, I knew I should be leaving before
Fortunato awakes. I began my journey through the endless tunnels of corpses and adorning tombs. I could smell the lingering fragrance of death
in the damp air as I stumbled along the dark, uneven pathway. I soon became overwhelmed with the feeling of exhaustion. I began to yell, "Help,
can anyone hear me?" The deafening silence reminded me of a fate I wished not to have. I staggered down a passageway and my eyesight began to
fade. My fatigue had come upon me like the crashing waves of an ocean, and those waves I could not avoid. I was lying on the chilled, dank floor,
abandoned by the world above me. I gathered all the strength I had left and tried calling out one last time. "Anyone, Can anyone help me?" I
yelled with a weak but raspy voice. I then looked down at the burning sensation on my hands and began to believe that the walls of the catacomb
had been laced with a specific poison that had penetrated my skin. This had been done to prevent grave robbers from stealing the valuable jewelry
that had been laid upon the dead. As I looked up I saw a light, it looked as though a luminescent cloud was coming to take me from my evil deeds.
The light began to engulf my body and I felt the impression of being hoisted into the skies. I swore that my fate had been secured and I was no longer
suffering the agony of my unforgivable

Eye Opener
Eye Opener It was a sunny afternoon in January, and I was staying the night at a house a couple of streets down, dog sitting for a nice couple I
knew. I had previously passed my Certified Nursing Assistant exam, and was feeling elated. I kicked off my shoes and, after properly greeting my
two furry fans with some belly rubs, I headed into the bedroom. Sprawling out on the bed, I pulled out my phone to text my family and friends the great
news. Suddenly, my phone lit up. It was my dad calling! He must have had today off from work. Feeling giddy enough to literally jump for joy, I
quickly answered. He asked how my test went, and I spilled to him all about how the written part was so easy, and I was only a little bit nervous
about the clinical part (though, I was really extremely worried the whole time). Then I noticed he got really serious, and seemed a little different. That's
when he dropped the bomb.
"They found a mass in my kidney", he told me. "And it's most likely cancer." Time froze. All of a sudden I couldn't breathe, and felt tears welling up in
my eyes. My chest ached, and when I finally opened my mouth to speak, my voice had gone hoarse. "Cancer?" I croaked, grasping at straws. "Is... Is
this a joke?" He let out a halfhearted, broken chuckle. "No, it's not a joke." He continued with his story on how he felt a sharp pain in his lower back at
work a week or so ago, and went into the hospital to get it checked out. I heard only bits and pieces, as the shadows creeped

My Speech
When I began writing my commencement speech I knew that I wanted to use humor as a main theme. When we watched the speech examples in class
the ones that I really took material away from and the ones that stuck with me the longest were the ones that were funny and had humor sprinkled
throughout. Other than the humor part I had no idea what I wanted my speech to be about but I knew that I needed to stick with a common theme
throughout or it would be a mess. Once I had the reoccurring dream about the tiger I took that as the universe's way of telling me that my speech
should incorporate that so I decided to go with the theme of choices. I was really excited once we got the initial assignment as I love to talk and I
really enjoy attention. However, once I actually started writing my speech I found that it was a lot more difficult that I had initially anticipated. The
beginning of the speech was easy for me as it was the dream I had had so I just wrote that down. The middle of the speech was where I had the
most difficulty, I wanted it to be funny but I also wanted to speak to the choices and experiences that I hope everyone has taken away from Seattle
University. I really wanted to convey my own passions about treating every person equally and with curtesy. The end of my speech was also
relatively easy to write as they are things that I have grappled with a time or two before and things that I feel every person will have to choose
between at one point or another

A Piece Of Work
Rafae Ahmed Ms. Foster English IV 24 September 2015 A Piece of Work He told me to walk because it would save money and gas and that it was
only a couple of blocks away. So I put two pairs of socks on, jeans, two jackets, and my muddy sneakers. I put my hood up and my head down. I
walked along the cracked sidewalk with cars rushing by adding wind to my shivering body. I stared at my feet as each footstep had to have its
own block of the sidewalk. I attempted to avoid stepping on any of the cracks just out of boredom, not out of superstition. I talked in my head
about last night's game, the blown calls and the bandwagon fans, and how my dad was going for the other team, as usual. After a while, I ended
up thinking about why I chose to wear my red shirt. It's weird how the mind can wander between two things that seemingly have no relation.
Anyway, I eventually stopped thinking and looked up to observe my surrounding. Trees from both sides of the road seemed to be stretching out
their limbs over the road, reaching across to the trees on the other side like lovers separated. The gray clouds visible through the branches of the
arch of trees casted a shadow of death over the entire town. The dead leaves just lay there helpless, and the leaves that remained on the trees held on
loosely. And then the wind blew, and leaves detached, floating down to join the dead. The leaves, once held up by the trees to be revered by all of
nature, now had disappeared into the degradation of the

Original Writing : New Beginnings Essay
New beginnings
As we arrive at the airport my heart feels like it is beating 100 miles an hour. I do not know if this is because I am getting on a plane for the first
time and leaving everything I've ever known, or because I will finally hug mom, dad, and my baby sister. "I can't believe it has been three months
since I last hugged mom, dad, and baby sister. They left our quiet small town on the coast of Jalisco, Mexico in search of a better future for our family.
My sister Laura and I had to stay with grandma until mom and dad could get enough money to send for us." I feel excited, but I can't help to also feel
sad and scared.
The inside of the plane was smaller than I imagined. We walked the narrow aisle following our aunt who was looking for our seats. My sister is
holding tight to my hand. I can tell she is as scared as me.
"Don't worry Laura we are going to have so much fun, and we are going to see mom, dad and Letty."
"I am scared the plane will fall out of the sky."
"I am a little scared too, but aunt Susana said it is just like riding in a car, plus think of all the presents mom and dad have waiting for us."
"Promise you will hold my hand all the way."
"I promise."
"I keep saying to my self be brave there is nothing to be scared about, be brave there is nothing to be scared about."
My sister's hand grip started to loosen when we got in our seats.
"Look, there is a TV(television) on the back of the seat!"
"Yes, said our aunt and look out the window, you can see the

Leaving Home- Original Writing Essay
Leaving Home– Original Writing
She climbed on the hard mattress and pulled the fluffy, violet diary from under the feathered pillow. She opened the hard–back book and ferociously
flicked through the pages, trying to find a blank one, she opened her bedside draw and rummaged through the useless items, she picked up a pen
and began to write. " How could they do this to me? Why now? Why couldn't they have told me earlier so I had time to acknowledge it, I mean I
am sixteen I will be going away to college soon, why didn't they tell me when I was like ten so I had time to think about it? Do they still love me
after what I did? Do I still love them after what they told me?" Marie scribbled her thoughts...show more content...
It was late, about eleven o'clock. The wake had been held at the small town's church. The will had been read out and people were starting to leave.
Marie and her parents were talking to the lawyer in the little room at the back of the church. Marie stood at one end in her long black dress, her long
brown hair was gathered over her right shoulder. A distressed look covered her face. " Mum, dad what did grandma mean by the truth?" Marie
questioned.
Melinda looked at the lawyer " can you leave us please?" She asked and the smartly dressed lawyer nodded and left the room. Melinda was dressed in a
black skirt suit and Chris, Marie's farther, was dressed in a black suit and tie. Melinda walked over to Marie and stared into her hazel eyes. "Sweetie
you have to know that this changes nothing," she told her warmly.
"And whatever happens we will always love you." Chris said as he walked across the room and joined his wife and daughter.
Marie took a slow step back and took a deep breath " can you please just tell me?" A tear rolled down her face "please."
Melinda took a deep breath in and slowly let it out "okay, honey I will tell you"
There were a few seconds of silence.
" Sweet heart your, we're not your, err I don't know how to tell you this, you're adopted." The tension in the room rose higher and higher until Marie
broke.

Marie ran out of the

An Unforgettable Experience
An Unforgettable Experience – Original Writing
It was my first time at Dubai Airport, the symbol of United Arab Emirates' aviation ascendancy. The bustling International airport was a long way
away from my rural residence. Due to the long distance, we had been obliged to take the taxi instead of making use of public transport. The
atmosphere in the car was generally silent, but occasionally my parents moaned about all the minor discomforts of the journey. It felt like we were in a
funeral. Hours after departing my house, we started noticing frequent aeroplanes, low down in the sky indicating the proximity to the airport. The roads
had become more congested and the air was more contaminated than...show more content...
Later, I perused the shelves of one of the chain stores. The prices of the products were charged extortionately, and therefore I did not buy anything
from the airport. As I waited in the waiting room, I heard voices echo through the massive halls as people constantly channeled through the endless
maze of walkways and escalators. Several hours later, passengers of my flight were escorted, like sheep escorted by shepherds, down a narrow
walkway into the plane. The plane was flooded into by people who were abundant with colossal luggage bags. My family and I hastened to our seats
and had a word–fight concerning the seating arrangement. After a menial safety lecture, we were asked to fasten our seat belt, which was a puzzling
process since I did not know how the lock contraption worked, and get ready for take off.
The aeroplane majestically strolled towards the runway. The din made by the engines roaring evoked reminiscence of a stampede. As the aeroplane
accelerated and went higher in the sky, I stared out of the glass window and bid goodbye to the buildings and the people. They seemed to be
becoming more and more miniature by the second, until I could no longer see them. When we were up in the earth's atmosphere, I felt as if I had been
magically transported into the land of fluff and I was floating above the feather like clouds. Even though it was a

My Memories
My parents can attest to the fact that, even before I could properly spell, I was a writer. Reflecting on my early childhood, I find that most of my
memories have some connection to writing. Because I lived tucked in the corner of a minuscule town and was home–schooled, I had no interaction
with other children and was quite content to spend my time alone. That time was often passed by writing.
Whenever I played with my collection of stuffed animals and dolls, it was always with intention of telling a story. I don't remember ever dressing
them or arranging them just for the sake of doing so. They were the props and actors for my stories. The minute I finished with them, I barreled for
my room to retrieve a notebook from my stash. I wrote those stories in careful penmanship and garnished the margins of the paper with my own
illustrations. My earliest purpose was to preserve the story for the next time I played, so I would never leave the toys on a permanent cliffhanger in
their adventures through dollhouses and pantries. I wrote book after book, penning my ideas on folded sheets of notebook paper and stapling them
together. The tales of stuffed ponies and Barbie dolls and plastic cars were stagnant with melodrama and simplicity, but to me as a second–grader, they
were accomplishments.
When I grew a little older and learned more of the writing process, I thought of playtime as my first draft session. After acting out the plot through the
toys, I clambered onto the rickety

My First Birthday
It was just a couple months past my 6th birthday when I started to realize a separation within my house. Coming home every day from school and
waiting for 4 o' clock to come around so I could see my dad walk in the door for dinner, or a quick game of tag with the neighborhood. Dad was still
coming home but something was different. Then I started to notice that dad and mommy weren't sleeping in the same bed which struck me as
odd. I was getting suspicious about was going on, so decided to talk to my older sister. We talked about how weird it was when mommy and dad
were around each other. As weeks grew on we noticed more of the details, like mommy's closet starting to grow bare and how there were boxes
lined up in the extra basement room. They thought we didn't notice, but we did. They finally sat my sister and me down to explain what was
happening, but reassured us that everything was going to be fine. The fact that mommy and dad aren't living together set in the first weekend we
spent alone with dad at his new apartment. It was on the second floor and from my room I could see the pool, which is pretty awesome. I startled
everyone when I woke up in the middle of the night crying for my mommy and realizing she wasn't there. I saw the hall light flicker on and heard
the footsteps as they walked across the tile floor. The door creaked open and I saw my dad stand in the door way asking what was wrong. I told him I
missed mommy and wanted to go home. It was really dark outside

My First Heartbreak
Most of the time when you think about heartbreak, you think about a boy and a girl who were madly in love and then one day something tragic
happens, and they have a catastrophic breakup. My first heartbreak was nowhere near that. My first heartbreak was a feeling that makes the pit of
your stomach feel like it just fell through your body and sends a cold chill into the center of your soul. Although heartbreaks can evoke pain and
suffering for a while, sometimes everything does work out for you, and it will all be worth it.
The day I woke up to this soon to be life changing turn of events, I thought it was just going to be a normal day with my mom, not doing anything out
of the ordinary or particularly special. I woke up late in the morning, like I always did on a morning in the summer time, and did nothing all day. I
was just doing the usual things a twelve year old girl did in the summer: watch television, eat junk food and play on my phone. I was at my mom's
that day, but I was going to my dad's house later that day to stay for the weekend. Mom and dad usually met up somewhere later in the day around
four or five in the afternoon. It was still quite early in the day when mom told me that we were going to Covington for the day. When I thought of a
trip to Covington I thought of going shopping, going to the movies, or even going to see my grandma who lived near that area. This trip to Covington
was not going to be anything like that. Mom told me that dad wanted to meet in

Essay about Original Writing: Short Story
Original Writing: Short Story
The weather was not unusual this morning. London had just received her share of rain for the year. The sky hinted the existence of the sun but dark
gray clouds seemed to quench even the hope of such a splendor. It is February, month of sweethearts, ice cold days, and even colder nights. The
month that all of London hoped would come soon, for it would mark the soon end of winter, the end to hibernation, when boys could finally once
again be boys.
Melanie loved the winter. She loved the sense of solitude it gave her. She loved its icy spell that it cast upon everything, how winter had such power.
She loved how everyone had to listen to its howls, how it demanded...show more content...
Melanie, feeling a sense of adventure and fear, edged toward the figure in slow but strideful steps. In the dense fog she could barely make out it's
shape. She began to trot to make up ground, her reddish–brown hair flinging from side to side. Melanie began to worry about her parents. She had
questions of who this man was. Was he a salesman? Or maybe a friend of her parents? But it couldn't be she thought. They wouldn't come this early
unless they wanted to be rude.
Melanie put her fears and her thoughts in the back of her mind. She would focus on the figure who was steadily escaping into the fog. As she came
within 10 feet of the figure the fog seemed to get thicker as were the people on the sidewalk. The fog kept her from realizing that she was in a
moderately congested business center a few blocks from her house. The fog seemed to engulf her and the man. She couldn't see 10 feet in front of her.
She began to run toward the figure who was only visible by the coattails of his trench coat. As she approached them she reached to grab them but
missed narrowly. The man didn't seem to suspect anything but Melanie still stayed at a cautious distance. She noticed his hands to be white in skin,
hairy, and rough in texture.
Suddenly the man changed direction. He cut to the right in between two 1–story buildings. Melanie's fear grew as she swallowed the last drop of

My First Birthday
It was my tenth birthday. I woke up that day overly excited for my age to finally be in the "double digits." I didn't know that birthday would be one
I'd never forget and turn out to be a day that changed my life forever. I come from your regular, working class family. My parents have been
together since they were teenagers and they had two kids, myself and my younger brother, Taylor. My parents did (and still do) everything possible
to make sure my brother and I were happy. I was also lucky enough to have my dad's mother, my grandmother, who would also do anything to make
sure we were happy. I remember being at my grandma's house as a child and watching her make us breakfast, sitting in the poor lit kitchen, around a
country–style table. I can still remember the sound of her voice, the way her house smelled, the way she smelled and how it felt to hug her. I was
never called by my name, she only referred to me as "her baby." Which I was, there was no question about it. My grandma had four children
including my dad. Of her four children, she ended up with seven grandchildren. My brother and I being the youngest, we were the apples of her eye.
She was a Kentucky grown woman with Kentucky blood. She smoked cigarettes the entire time I knew her, even when she was wearing oxygen. The
day of my tenth birthday, my mom told me I could do whatever it was I wanted. I chose to go see the new Adam Sandler movie playing at the local $1
theater in town. Afterwards, we spent the day

My Speech

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My Speech