Night Nights

Night Nights
I can remember as a child going on vacation with my whole family. All my cousins in one house, it was a great time until night time. We all would
camp out in the living, our parents would tuck us in and then it was off to bed. Sleeping peacefully until one of my cousins woke us all up
screaming while she was sleeping. Night after night we had to deal with this. The following year I as well as all of my cousins anticipated the same
thing. Peacefully sleeping only to be awaken in the middle of the night by shears of horror. But to all of our surprise my cousin sleep peacefully all the
way through the night every night. It was a flash from the past learning about night terrors. As we lectured over the topic, I immediately put the pieces
together. What my cousin was suffering though as a child was night terrors. My cousin fit the definition for getting night terrors to the T. She also fit
getting rid of night terrors to the T.
Relationship to Course Content
Sleep is crucial for a child developing. At the the time we were all in kindergarden, meaning we needed roughly 10–11 hours of sleep a night (Rathus,
2011). Sleep acts as a battery reviser. As the day goes on we lose energy, sleep replenishes that energy. That energy aids in development. Without sleep
children do not get that energy, and as a result don't have the energy to grow and develop. Sleep terrors can potentially be a roadblock to sleep.
Sleep terrors or night terrors are defined as frightening dreamlike
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The Night
Carla went to a party in a neighborhood that was not familiar to her. The host of the party was only introduced a week ago through a mutual
friend. After entering the party and looking around, she noticed that none of her friends had yet arrived. This was not a problem for her, taking off
her coat and grabbing a drink, she introduced herself to the other people at the party until her friends arrived. At the end of the night, she felt very
energized and happy. Connor arrived at the same party shortly after Carla. He had not really even wanted to come to the party, but Cara and his
other friends had convinced him. He entered the house and could not see anyone he knew, so he decided to wait in the quieter part of the room until
his other friends arrived. Connor had fun at the party, but after it had ended he was tired decided to go straight to bed when he arrived at home
without talking to anyone else. Both of these characters arrived at a party. The difference between the two friends lies in their personality types: Carla
was an extrovert, or a person who is "concerned primarily with the physical and social environment." In contrast, Connor was an introvert, or a person
who is "characterized by concern primarily with his or her own thoughts and feelings." According to twentieth–century psychologist Carl Jung,
humanity can be divided into these two main personality types. The differences between these two personality types can be found biologically, socially,
and behaviorally.

The Night
The rain fell in torrents, the wind that accompanied the rain echoed to the far–reaching ends of the forest. The white, shiny light provided by the
ever–present full moon poured in through the old curtains as if it was calling her to the window. Whatever it was, she felt in the great depths of her
soul. Someone was out there. They needed her. They wanted her. But what if it was a trap? The house she had been currently living in didn't belong
to her. She had just been exploring the area she had moved to and had discovered a shabby–looking house. She had just assumed it had been empty for
decades. In the beginning when she found the house, the door was behind overgrown masses of ivy. After hours of pushing and stumbling through
the clinging fog like a psychotic savage in the silent and still hours she had found the house. Around 1 o'clock it was a great was a great relief for her
to finally have some form of shelter. For many, they would have been frightened of the hidden crumbling rubble of the old Victorian cottage; but for
her – it was her safe haven. But it was so lonely living like a hermit scared of the slightest sound. Whether it would be the withering wind or a
snapping twig. She would roam around the house with an old rubbery candle as her only source of light. Every face in a picture would gaze at her.
Their eyes following her everywhere – as if wary of her presence. The cobwebs strained to keep a formation as if they were waiting to breathe if the life
out of the

The Night
Bright red, white, and blue lights are all my heavy, blurry eyes could see through wide front widows of my house. The horrendous wailing of the
sirens was the only thing that was keeping me from being swept out of reality. As I was trying to organize my tangled thoughts, I flashed back to last
night. Last night I stood in a small family house located in a tight–knit neighborhood, and I was wiping my blood soaked hands on my black pants.
Each image from the night before left a permanent imprint on my mind. I remember sprinting to the back of the two–bedroom house where my victim,
who was a close friend, was sprawled on the slick red floor. Commanding shouts coming from outside of my house were beginning to penetrate my
ears, pulling me back... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
This helps the police narrow down their suspect pool (Frater). No matter what I say during interrogation, the police know to look for a suspect who
has a relationship with the victim; that pool of suspects would include me. I also should have known to not murder a straight, working class, white,
woman. Police are not likely to take the crime as seriously if the murder is against a member of a minority group such as the LGBT community,
Hispanics, African Americans, and sex workers. "It is easier to target a minority who is a stranger than a Caucasian victim who is a stranger . . . it is
a rare instance where minority victims are given the same level of attention as their Caucasian counterparts . . . if [killers] target minority children,
teens, and even adults, then they are less likely to be caught" (Schurman–Kauflin). Both of these components have led me into the hands of the local
police officers, who were now handcuffing my hands behind my back. If I really wanted to commit the perfect crime, I should have murdered a
minority stranger who worked in the sex industry; this victim would not have gained much sympathy from the police nor the community. Victim
choice was not the only factor I should have spent more time analyzing; preparation was another component I should have taken into consideration.
The key to any crime is to be prepared and organized. Ashely 's murder consisted of neither of these aspects. The only concrete feature I knew going

The Night
gate here to secure the area that the tents are going to be set up in. Please don't approach them and keep your distance." Three platoons of Marines
moved to the front entrance while the Sailors began to take down the barricade. Once the barricade was down the Marines with weapons at port arms
moved out the gate and towards the crowd. As the Marines moved forward the crowd began to back up. Once the three platoons were out the gate
they broke formation and stood abreast of each other. In lock step the Marines took slow steps slowly pushing the crowd back from the gate. When
they were at approximately seventy–five yards from the gate they halted. They had created enough space so the Sailors and civilians could carry out
the tents... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Two hundred cases of MRE's were brought up each box of MRE's contained twelve meals. They would give an individual three meals for three
days and for a family they would get three meals for three days for each member of the family. This was only a start to what would be given to
everyone, once they got through initial processing by the civilians in the tents and they retrieved their water and meals. They would be processed
through another tent where they would be given a sleeping bag, a tent, backpack, a blanket per person, and additional camping equipment that the
Marines had retrieved from stores or service members had donated. Everything was set up and the announcement was made to the civilians to line
up in an orderly manner at the entrance as dictated by the signs. If there were any problems they were told the Marines would step in, they would
then pack it up for the day and take everything back onto the base. There was a lot of grumbling by the civilians they were hungry, on edge and fed
up, many of them understood the process and were thankful for the military. Others only wanted what the military had and didn't want to deal with the
formalities. This was also planned for they knew that there would be agitators in the crowd, they had set up spotters around the edges of the base and
around the crowd to look for them. If

The Night
Instead of waking up to the sound of the ocean crashing against the sand, Jordan woke to the rustling of leaves. He looked around his new room,
which was filled with boxes that needed to be unpacked. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he got up and looked out his window, curious about the sound.
He peeked out the window, shocked at what he saw. He could have sworn the leaves on the trees were all green last night! But now, they were
vibrant yellows, oranges, and reds. Some leaves were sprinkled on the ground, and some were in large piles. Kids were leaping in and out of them,
laughing and smiling. They fell from the sky like a tropical storm, showering the ground below. Why are the leaves these colors? Jordan wondered, not
knowing much other than... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"I'm not allowed to talk to strangers." "We're not strangers– we're neighbors. My name is Syca. Syca Moore." "I'm Jordan." "Nice to meet you!" Syca
reached one of her bare branches towards Jordan, and he shook it. The tree smiled. "Now that we know each other, don't go picking my leaves again,
please. It hurts. Let them fall naturally." "Naturally? How do they fall naturally?" Jordan asked, tilting his head. "Well," she started, "my leaves are
green in the summer because they have something called chlorophyll. And that helps them get "food", or photosynthesize. To photosynthesize, my
leaves take the light and warmth from the sun, and soak it up like a sponge." Syca squeezed Jordan's arm as if to represent it. "But, when the Earth
spins, the light stops warming one place, and warms another. The day that this happens on is the Equinox, when the sun has completely shifted it's
rays away from one area. This is why up here, in the North, it's colder in the fall. Now, remember what I said about the leaves photosynthesizing?"
Jordan nodded. "Well, without the light and warmth, the chlorophyll dies, and the green goes away. In place of this, the leaves turn yellow, orange, or
red. This is because of pigments, or colors, called carotene and anthocyanins." "Cool! Those are long words." Jordan exclaimed. The tree laughed.
"Wait, I'm not done. The reason they fall is because their stem goes through abscission, which detaches it from the tree. Following that, they

The Night
It was like any other show. A mixture of nervousness and excitement filled the air which, surprisingly, smelled just like the hairspray which hung over
the freshly–curled heads of hair of the group of dancers which I stood with. The lights were dim in the side stage wing, allowing me to see only the
silhouette of my friend, Jade, who stood impatiently next to me.
Jade and I were dressed identically, both in glittering orange and red costumes. Her hair was curled into tight ringlets of thick black hair. Our costumes
were flowing orange pants, printed in whimsical Arabian prints and a red blouse which sparkled faintly under the dull backstage lighting.
"Who's seeing you tonight?" Jade said in a hushed tone. The full audience was only a ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
I scanned the audience in anticipation. It was easy Not expecting to see anything, or anyone for that matter, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw
my two friends, Anita and Trinity grinning from ear to ear at me from the 3rd row of the audience.
I was as still as a statue for a split second. A wave of nervousness that I was not used to washed over me. I was not prepared to see them at all, and
the newfound pressure made every dance step feel like I was stepping through mud. Though I was overjoyed that they'd come to show, I felt anxious
and nervous that I would mess up or that they would not like the performance. I quick
I quickly realized that I had to continue performing and not stop dead in my tracks. Despite my anxiousness, I told myself to keep performing, and do
it with even more energy. In what felt like hours, the dance was over. I walked off the stage and down the small hallway which led to the dressing room.
"My friends surprised me!" I cried with excitement to Jade, "They're in the audience! This is the first time anyone from school has come to see one of
my shows!"
"Wow! That's so kind of them!" Jade said happily.
After that, we continued the show. All the way through Friend Like Me, Prince Ali, and A Whole New World, I continued to perform like it was any
other show. Knowing that I had people who loved and cared about me in the audience gave me the momentum to put much

The Night
It was a typical Saturday morning in the Silvey household. I got up and got ready for work. The kids were in the living room watching cartoons as
they normally do, with only one exception. I noticed that the house was a little messy and my wife was nowhere around. So I asked my oldest
daughter if she had seen her. She said that she was lying in the guest room sleeping and that she wasn't feeling well. I figured that she was still a little
under the weather from a cold the week before, but that was no excuse to let the house go.
So I decided to check and see what was going on and how sick she really was. She told me that she wasn't feeling right. So I had told her that I
would take the day off and we would go to her doctor. She refused as usual and we had gotten into a little argument about her needing to take better
care of herself. So she finally agreed that if she wasn't better by tonight, in the morning I could drag her to the doctors by force if I had to. So off to
work I went. We were both a little pissed at each other and didn't do or usual kisses and love you like we would normally do. It kind of bothered me
but I figured it bothered her more. Later that evening as I returned home from work, I noticed as I pulled into the driveway all the lights in the house
were on. I was a little pissed because we had just discussed with the kids about leaving the lights on, that along with the condition of the house this
morning. As I entered the house, I notice it was a mess.

The Night
After a long restless night, Allie had a servant draw a hot bath for her just after daybreak. She stepped in, sat down, and then let her entire body slip
beneath the water. She held her nose as she wet her copper locks and soaped her head. She intended to bring the shine back– she did not like the dull
creature that stared back at her from the mirror the night before. The hot water was soothing; it felt good on her tired body. After washing, she lay
there and let the warm water soak the tiredness from her muscles. She guessed all the tossing and turning she done that night had exhausted her and
caused her body to ache. She also felt a little queasy, which was way out of the ordinary; she was never ill. After laying there a few minutes, she fell
fast asleep. Sometime later, the coolness of the water woke her– after drying off and dressing, she checked the time– it was nearly 8a.m. in the morning.
She could not believe she had slept so long in the tub of water, however, her wrinkled fingers and toes told that she had. Amazingly, she felt quite
relaxed and refreshed, as if she had had a full night's sleep. When she went down for breakfast, Eli was not yet down. Her grandmother and
grandfather were eating when she walked into the dining room. She smiled at them and asked how they were. Her grandmother gave her a once over
and then said: "Allie, honey, you look beautiful this morning." "Thank you, Grandmother– so do you." Ignoring her compliment, her grandmother said,
"I thought

The Night
I had glanced over at my mom, her breaths were shallow and light. Her eyes were closed and her hair was still soaked from the shower. She tapped
my Dad on the hand, "I think you need to call 911." When I had gotten up that chilly November morning, the air was like ice on my skin. My
brother, Chaz, was still asleep in his room, as he didn't have class until later that day. It was 6 am and I wasn't fully awake yet, nor was the
household because it was silent. Kristy, my sister, was probably still asleep too, but she lived in Virginia so there was no way I could know. Our
dogs were laid on the brown, carpeted floor, snoring lightly. I got out of bed to go shower, which was in my parents room. As I pushed the door open
I heard quiet... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"Morning, Mom," I managed to say in between yawns. She and I liked to spend mornings together; we'd had a little routine since I started school.
This helped to take the edge off the worry I felt, but some of it lingered. I sat there for what seemed like a long time, just listening to the silence.
Later on, my Mom tapped my Dad on the hand, "You need to call 911, I think I'm having a heart attack." You know that drop in your stomach when
you go down a big hill on a rollercoaster? That's how my stomach felt. 'Mom is still relatively young, how can she be having a heart attack? I
thought that only happened to old people, like grannies and grandpas,' The thought raced through my head. Before I knew it, Dad was on the
phone with 911 reciting our address. I heard through the receiver that they were on their way and would be here shortly. A few minutes had
passed, but they felt like years. When the red flashing lights shined through the window, Dad started to gather Mom's things for the hospital. I told
my Mom that I loved her as my Dad ushered me out of the room to go wake Chaz up. Reluctantly, I scurried out of the bedroom and down the
hallway into Chaz's. He was already awake and my Dad had probably told him what's going on. "Hey, squirt. When they leave you should probably
start getting ready for school," My brother told me, while rubbing his eyes. "Yeah I know..." I said, trailing off. I sat down on the soft, carpeted floor
and waited for the front

The Night
Waking up to the smell of strawberry jam and toast coming from the kitchen, Dan looks over at his clock to see that it is 7:30. Forcing himself up, he
throws on a set of clothes and tiptoed down the stairs to be sure not to wake up Lisa. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Dan sees both his parents,
father at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, and mother at the counter spreading the jam on the mountain of toast beside her.
The quiet morning is comfortable and pleasant. "How did you sleep?" Father asked? "Fine," Dan responded. He knew that Father was eager to say
something else. "Your mother and I have been talking and have decided to take the day off from your regular homeschooling to have a nicefamily ...
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Getting to see the president Dan thought to himself as he ate. Mother always talks so highly of him, how we are so lucky to have such an
exception president who knows how to make the hard calls and always fights for freedom and justice in the world. All Dan is happy about is how
he gets to take the day off from his usual studies and go to the park. Even though Lisa is older and she thinks she has to be the boss of him all the
time, he still hopes that they will have a gas. After breakfast Dan and his family all piled into their station wagon and headed off to the park.
Normally, the drive to the park feels like it takes forever, but listening to the new radio in the car made the trip feel much shorter. After what only
seemed like 5 minutes, they were already there. Father maneuvered his way through the parking lot as the family walks to their favorite area in the
park, Lisa asked her mother what they were going to have for lunch. ''It's a surprise!" She responded Dan and Lisa look at each other both
pondering what it might be. They continue to walk until they get to their cherished spot. There is a bench next to a big tree that overlooks the pond
where the Dan and Lisa both used to go to feed the ducks. Setting their stuff down, Mother says, "We still have about an hour until it is lunch time,
so why don 't you two go and join the other kids in a game of kick the can." Dan and Lisa ran over to the woods where a group of kids just

The Night
Was it a knock that had woken her? It was a late night, and everyone was asleep in bed. All except for this girl. She was awake. She was asleep all
this time, for every single day of the year, except for this day. Something woke her up. She thought it was nothing and went back to bed. Fifteen
minutes later, she heard the noise again but louder. She wondered what it was. But in thinking of it all, he went back to bed yet again.However, half
an hour later, she was awake yet again. It wasn't a sound this time, it was a sight that woke her up! She knew that because a the shadow of the light in
her room changed even though she had the lamp on.
What could that've been? She got out of bed and tiptoed past her parent's rooms. When she got ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
So she went to the roof very quietly past her parent's room.
When she got to the roof, the message was true. She did find something that made her dreams come true. She found a shooting star. She was also into
astronomy a lot, and had never seen a shooting star before. She then also learned that she was in trouble. Why? The shooting star was coming right
towards her at a blazing speed. She thought she was done for. But then, the star stopped about 20 feet from her, then inched slowly toward her. As
the star did that, it did something even more shocking to her. It transformed into an angel. She was stunned into silence. She had never seen secret
fireflies, nor a shooting star, nor an angel. This was so exciting for her. She just couldn't stand it! When the angel stopped 5 feet from her, she said,
"I will give you one wish." She thought a lot to herself about the wish. What was it she wanted most? A pet? A car? A trip? A pool? Anything?
Anything at all? She finally decided her wish. She was about to say her wish, when all of a sudden, the world was spinning right in front of her.
When she woke up, she was in the same location as before. All awake, and couldn't go back to sleep until sometime later. She decided to go outside
again and check if the fireflies were still there. So she got out of bed and was about to check. But wait! Her parents might still be asleep. She was
worried she would wake them up again. But she had

The Night
Castle woke up with bleary eyes and a dull headache. He had been up late writing and couldn 't even remember when he had went to bed last
night–probably sometime early this morning. Beckett had awoken quite a while ago, judging by the coolness of the sheets, and had let him sleep a bit
longer. He shuffled into the bathroom, turning on the light, and squinted at the in"tensity of the brightness. Definitely had a headache. As he washed his
face he felt a bit of stubble and made a mental note to shave.
Making his way into the kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of his girlfriend flipping pancakes and the smell of coffee brewing. Filled with
happiness at how comfortable Beckett seemed in his home (that he hoped would soon be their home), he hugged her from behind with a dopey grin on
his face.
"Morning beautiful," he murmured in her ear.
"Morning to you too," she said, turning to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Help yourself to some pancakes. I 'm just about done." Lost in his own
little world, castle did not notice the quirk of her lips or the mischievous glint in her eyes.
Castle sat down on a stool at the island, making a smiley face on his pancakes with whipped cream and Beckett joined him, placing a cup of coffee
beside his plate. He grinned at her, looking a bit like the face on his pancakes. He looked quite adorable and Beckett felt almost guilty for what she
did to his pancakes. Almost. With a look of absolute bliss Castle finally took the first bite of his

The Night
She marvelled as her grandson sat admiring as she told them the story of how she and her husband had met. Though she had told it many times she
was always fascinated by how attentively Bruno sat, listening as she spoke. 'It was a winters afternoon; wet and windy, quite like this day. I was at
his fathers restaurant with my mother. Your grandfather was our waiter that day. He came over to me and smiled, ' said Nathalie tapping her husbands
arm as she spoke. 'We stayed all afternoon and by coincidence I might add, we left the restaurant at the same time. Our chauffeur was there but he
insisted that he should open the door for such a lovely lady– ' She stopped mid sentence as she glanced around the room noticing the darting of eyes
turning... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
She thought back to when Ralf was just a boy– the costumes she used to make for him to run around the house in. He would run up and down the
staircase with his toy plane until Agnes told him to stop. She came back to reality shaking her head in disappointment. 'I wonder – is this where I went
wrong with you Ralf? You playing with your plane in the costumes I used to make for you. Is that what you think they still are? Costumes? ' 'Mother
please; this is neither the time nor the place. ' Grandfather sighed, 'He 's right Nathalie. We talked about this earlier. ' He stood up and went over to
congratulate his son. She turned to Bruno as he sat cross–legged on the plush rug and watched her grandson as his eyes wandered over his fathers
uniform. He stared at the badges, the long leather boots, the eagle broach pinned onto his cap and the band around his arm. Grandmother hated it;
all of it. She hated the fact that he was standing there in front of everyone like it was an achievement, a source of celebration. She hated the fact that
it was his profession, that his children had to be raised in a house that supported what was happening. 'It makes me ashamed, ' she said as the room
fell silent. 'The way you wear that uniform, as if it is something to be proud of, not even caring about what it stands for, what it really means! ' 'Mother
that is enough! ' shouted father. He took three long steps towards her, his face was frowned and muttered into her ear. 'You know

Night Creative Writing
When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to dance under the moonlight and follow the fireflies out into some incredibly unexplored land. The
night was for sleepovers and camping, secret bike riding and exploring– the moon was my mother and the stars my siblings. I used to lay in the grass
and stare up, up, up into that endless sky intrigued by its mystery, longing to know the depths from which it spurred. The dark would tuck me in at
night like the blanket it was, and I lived happily in the fact that I was a child and knew very little of it's secrets. Now older and less naive, the dark
is a catacomb of panic. The night is now where men become monsters, and darkened streets are their nests. Where I used to dance under starlight, I
now shy away from shadows and instead cling to lampposts. Hands clutched to my side ready for a defensive strike, I ask myself if I'll become
another statistic, or if the man on the other side of the street will become another name forgotten. I wonder how it is that something that started off so
utterly whimsical twisted it's shape into an unrecognizable cruelty. In day we laugh at fantastical oddities, and at night they suddenly become real.
There's no need for imaginary horrors, they take the shape of man and women and go by the names of Adam and Eve. The point is we're the monsters,
we're the scary things that lurk in the dark. We are... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
I take comfort in dusk, and bathe in dark. I like the feeling of one in the morning, and inexplicable silence, but it is no longer an option to have
childish whims. I think more than anything I think I miss the simplicity of childhood nights, it lacks the laws of our current adult evenings: never
leave a party without a friend, always have a backup number, stay in the light, don't wander far from home, kindly say goodnight to strangers and pray
to God they don't follow you home. I don't fear the night, but I am one of many who understands it's

The Night Nightmare
Late Night Nightmare.
It was late at night when they finally arrived to the motel. The hotel he was at was very dark and creepy. The closet had a few hangers. The
bathroom was filthy. The sink had green vomit on it. The shower had urine it. Jason was petrified. The fridge only had a bottle of water and a small
sandwich. Since he didn 't want to look at his room anymore, so he went to bed. His bed was the only clean thing in the motel room.
When he went to bed he tried to get comfortable because the bed only had one pillow and one blanket. He had a nightmare.. the next day.
James point of view:
It was bright. The room was a pretty teal color. Jason saw his little sister eating on the dinner table. He saw his older brother drinking Coke ... Show
more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Since I always finish my homework early, and Julie doesn 't do her homework until she gets home and it 's like six o'clock already, Jasmine always
wants to play so Julie doesn 't play with her. I always play with Jasmine since I 'm like her own Barbie doll. She has so many dolls but decides for me
to be her doll. We always play tea party or watch a Barbie movie or watch something appropriate for her.
Julie doesn 't really hangout with us. Unless it 's family time or she just really wants to hangout with us. She 's turning twelve soon and she 's a
pre–teen so that 's understandable. Maybe she likes someone too. These days we do not know how pre–teens or teens do. She calls her friend Claire a
lot. They are like peas in a pot stuck together.
Tomorrow is Justin's birthday.. yay!
Julie, Jasmine, and I have to plan something for him. I 'll call my parents too because they haven 't contacted us for a week.. and usually mom would
call us everyday but not this time. Justin is going to go buy groceries tomorrow so I guess the girls and I will have it set by then.
(james calling his parent:
*––> means like action, what they are doing* example : *smiles* в†’ means they are smiling. )
*dials the phone number of Jennifer Kinnsela* Why isn 't she picking up?
"You have reached the voicemail box of.... It 's Jennifer Kinnsela, please leave a voicemail. Thanks!"
That 's odd.. Why isn 't she picking up? *dials the phone number of Kade Kinnsela*
"You have reached the

The Night
He woke up long before the roosters greeted the day. The three candles had burned halfway and Su Zhe was completely asleep on the bed next to
him. He 'd curled up naked in the fur while Su Zhe moved to dress and he began to regret his decision now, when his entire body was exposed to the
chillier room. A half–emptied vial was left on the table near the bed, along with a now–dried towel. Jingyan looked away before the memories
overwhelmed him. His body felt cramped and sore, but physical discomfort were things that a warrior could easily dismiss. Jingyan quickly dressed,
only stopping to sit by the edge of the bed and watch Su Zhe sleep for just a moment longer after the final ties of his robes were secured. Jingyan
wanted to reach out... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
His attention was caught by a corner of a drawing that was hidden under a pile of unused paper. Quietly rustling to it, he was delightfully surprised
to find that it was a black and white drawing of himself, playing a flute under a cherry blossom tree. The artwork was delicate and detailed. Jingyan
could tell, the artist spent a lot of thought and energy on each minuscule stroke that amalgamated into the full picture. In his estimate, the drawing took
no less than ten hours. The bottom of the paper was oddly blotched, as if many drops of water had been dropped on it. Jingyan thought he looked
young in the picture, but it could be a trick his eyes played due to the lack of light. Beneath that was another, similarly intricate, drawing of him
underneath that one and he recognized the slightly annoyed expression on his face as dozens of blue–inked dragonflies flew away from him. The third
and last drawing, he supposed, was a capture of the moment he was reading Tingshen 's booklet. Feeling as though he 's seen more than Su Zhe
intended for him to see, Jingyan replaced the drawings, hiding them exactly the way he found them. His eyes drifted over to where Su Zhe rested on
the bed, the gentle and steady rise and fall his chest indicating a deep and undisturbed cycle of sleep. Had Su Zhe developed feelings for him since the
second time they met, when the other gripped his hand a moment too long? The stranger question in Jingyan 's mind was, did he

The Night
I woke up and did what I do every morning at the lake– look out the window to see how windy it is out. This morning there was no wind so I jumped
out of bed and went outside. I ran to the dock and looked out at the water. The sun was shining down already producing heat. The water was still,
there was no noise and most people were still sleeping. My brother came and joined my on the dock admiring the water as well. "You ready to go?"
Tanner asked. "Definitely," I replied. We went back in the house and got out swimsuits on. We stepped in the water to go under the boat when my
body froze, "It is freezing!" I said. We got the boat off the lift and tied it to the dock, then went to the garage to get out stuff out. We each grabbed our
own... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
The pain shot down by back and up my neck so fast like a lightening bolt. I dropped the rope handle as soon as I had hit the surface of the water,
laying in the water motionless, the board still strapped to my feet. I tried to move and got that shooting pain again so I just floated as still as I
could. I heard all of the boat motors both in the water and in the air as my head would bob up down, up, down. The boat came around me and my
family knew right away I was hurt. They didn't realize it when it happened, but they did now. My brother surged in the water and took off my
wakeboard from my feet. He slipped it into the boat and then tried to hoist me up into the boat as my uncle grasped my life jacket, pulling me in. I
told them I thought I had broken my arm. I spun around for everyone to see and they all cringed, something was unquestionably damaged. My uncle
told me to move my arm and when I couldn't he told me I dislocated it. It was a beautiful sunny day, but suddenly it felt dark and gloomy. We arrived
at the dock and all got out, my parents rushed to the dock wondering what was wrong. I tried to remain placid even though I was in excruciating pain.
It wasn't an evident dislocation where my arm was all twisted up, my hand and arm were still facing the right direction, but my shoulder was bulging
out from my back and the top of my shoulder was almost to my head clearly looking awkward. "Oh my goodness, get in the truck we need to go to

The 's Night
The first thing I noticed about the Rift was that it looked like one of those sleep pods from sci–fi movies in the early 2000's. The machine was sleek. A
silver pod, with the outline of an opening barely visible. Perfectly ordinary for such a device, but for some reason it sucked all the light out of the
room. The weight of what I was about to experience finally catching up to me. I will be able to see, smell, and feel everything. Everything that
happened in Elie Wiesel's night. I will see, smell, and feel the holocaust through the eyes of Wiesel. "Alright, uh, Yavin. Nice name. I'm Mr. Hiraku.
Are you ready?" the teacher asked, looking down at his chart for my name.
"Yes sir." I answered, a bit shakily. I had used VR before for video games, but never for something so important.
"Alright. I'm going to read you off some side effects involved with this experience. 'While participating in the Night VR experience software, you may
encounter some nausea, disorientation, and discomfort due to the connectors. After using the Night VR experience software, you may encounter
nightmares, thoughts of suicide, depression, and other symptoms of PTSD. Would you like to continue with the use of this VR software?'"
I hadn't known there was going to be so many side effects. But then again, it's to be expected. To experience something only explainable as horrific,
even through VR, is bound to leave something behind.
Noticing my hesitation, Mr. Hiraku added "Yavin, these side effects are

The Night
Everyday, it seemed I and June always sat by the lustered dark river, for hours staring at nothing but the clouds in the sky roll by and the sun setting
at the horizon, disappearing behind the tall pointed mountains. It was always so beautiful, peaceful, and enlightning. My parents died. I was six
years old. They died, because of me. We got in a reasonable argument about Clifford the Big Red Dog, of all things. I stormed out of the house at
8:00 pm. I remember how glistening the stars were that night, how the colors of purple and dark blue collided in the sky and how the moon was full
and shined with what seemed like a never–ending light. I just kept running, laughing like the obnoxious six year I was. They ran after me calling...
After the accident, they both decided to homeschool me, due to my traumatizing behavior. They kept insisting for me to draw a picture, read, or
play with other kids. They even suggested are neighbor June. I simply denied them and shaked my head back and forth, signifying my answer, no.
I often spent most of my time in my purple speckled four walled room, glaring out my glistening glass window. Outside my grandparents house
was a beautiful array of water, a river. Through my window, I could only catch a glimpse of the river, but it was something. I ran out of the house,
my grandparents watching me. They smiled as I walked towards the river and both sat on the small narrow table and chair, sitting on our front
porch. I sat on the musty dark dirt, laying by the river and watched the river's ripples in sync with the wind. I watched leaves of the october season
slowly float within the waters. Time seemed to stopped. The sound of footsteps emerged behind me, carefully crunching sticks and stones lying on
the musty dark earth surface. A boy with pale pasty white skin, dirty blonde hair, and brown eyes sat beside me. He was wearing a long sleeved
brown shirt and regular small tacky colored jeans, along with brown stitched shoes. It was June, my nextdoor neighbor. He sat next to me staying silent,
staring at nothing but the river. I stared at him baffled by his motives. His head turned, facing me. I

The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-Time -...
The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night–Time – Original Writing Christopher Boone is a fifteen year old boy with Asperger's Syndrome. He
knows a great deal about maths and has a very logical way of thinking. Christopher knows very little about human beings and their behaviour and gets
very confused and frustrated by most conversations. He loves lists, timetables, patterns and the truth. He hates the colour yellow, because of custard,
bananas and double yellow lines and he also hates the colour brown because of dirt, gravy and wood. One of the affects of his Asperger's syndrome
means Christopher also hates being touched. He has never gone further than the end of the road on his own, but when he... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
The events that follow lead Christopher to the answers he is looking for in solving 'The Curious Incident' about Wellington and discovering his fathers
secrets surrounding his mother. The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night–Time is the story of Christopher's roller coaster journey of mystery. He
discovers the truth about his fathers reckless lies and searches for the answers to the secrets his father has hidden for so long. Screenplay The
chapter I have chosen to adapt is when Christopher decides to go to Swindon train station to make a journey to London in search of his mother. As
Christopher stands at the bottom of the concrete steps leading to the Stations entrance the audience can see fear in his face. He is wearing a pair
of scruffy blue jeans, white trainers with blue laces, a red jumper and a navy parker style coat. He stands out from others around him as it is a
warm summer afternoon and everyone is wearing shorts, skirts and summer outfits. He is a pale undersized boy with brown unkempt hair.
Christopher looks up at the large white sign that says in bold black writing SW ND N RAIN ST TION Christopher frowns at the sign as there are
clearly some letters missing we see that this bothers him. People are hurrying past him as he stands frozen with dread at having to climb the steps. He
becomes very

The Night
I stood there silently staring at the large black box. My hands were tucked away in my pockets and I felt them begin to dampen with sweat. I felt
cold shivers come over my body and I could easily hear my heart beat in my chest. The rhythm was anything but steady. Each thud seemed to tremble
in fear. In sadness. In emotions that I couldn 't even begin to explain. My mind felt tired, like it had fallen asleep and I had no intention of waking it
back up. The only consequence to that is just one thought was present. I couldn 't save her. Belle. A name that meant beauty. And beautiful she was.
From the moment I met her to the last time I saw her sparkling eyes. I was absolutely captivated by her beauty. Inside and out. That was the thing...
And that 's where I met her. We had just finished and I was heading backstage when I saw her struggling with one of our security guards. She
looked harmless so instinctively I ran over and asked them to let her go. I still remember the shocked look on her face when she realized I was a
member of the band she had snuck in to see and that I was practically saving her from utter embarrassment. I smiled warmly and she returned the
gesture hesitantly. I told her to follow me and I brought her backstage into my dressing room where I awkwardly questioned her. She seemed
totally unsure of me at the beginning but towards the end of our conversation she seemed more comfortable. When I was told to get on the tour
bus as we were traveling to our next gig I confidently came up to Belle and gave her a hug which she returned much to my pleasure. As I walked
out to join the others I thought I would never see this girl again. The girl with the name that meant beauty. The girl that changed my life from the
moment I met her. But boy was I wrong. And I was glad I had been. The church was empty by now, but I still stood there on the cold floor. I had finally
slowed my heart rate and my intake of oxygen was normal so I didn 't feel as dizzy as I had before. I just felt empty. See, Belle had filled that void. The
void that I hadn 't even noticed was there until she was taken from me. I heard a sniffle from behind me and turned to see a girl who I

The Night
Sometime after sunset, I managed to fall asleep on the sofa while Hawking and Gran continued talking. The ghosts, having figured out we just
didn't care anymore, quieted down to the occasional moan and howl. I guessed even ghosts get tired of all the drama after a while. I woke up at ten
and saw Gran sleeping in her chair by the fire. Hawking stood by us, keeping watch. After deciding there was no way I was going to be able to fall
back asleep, I closed my eyes and was out in seconds.
The next time I awoke, the room was brighter, and my stomach was growling. The clock read half past one. Gran's chair was empty, and I could hear
the clanking of dishes in the kitchen. The delicious aroma of frying bacon wafted through the air.
Yawning, I took a detour to the restroom. After a shower and a change of clothes, I felt human again. In the kitchen I helped Gran by flipping
pancakes. Hawking watched while we cooked, and every time I turned my back the pancake stack got shorter and shorter. That is until I wove a
protection spell around the plate. He was put out that of all the times I tried, this was the time my spell actually worked.
The ghosts must have heard our activity, because soon they started up with their thumping, banging, screaming and all the other annoying sounds that
go along with a castle full of vengeful spirits wanting a little payback on the murderer's descendants. It gave our meal that extra little touch that one
expects with fine dining in a haunted castle.
We

The Night
Five days later Heavy rain clouds rolled over the city, blocking out the sun and casting eerie shadows across Tom's room. Moments later, a blue–white
flash of lightning split the dark sky, followed by a low rumble of thunder. The impending storm perfectly fit Tom's melancholy mood, and turning
away from the window, he placed the last of his belongings in a small carrier bag and placed it on the bed. The day after his admittance, Penhall had
thoughtfully brought in clothing and toiletries, but Tom had stubbornly refused to see his friend, or anyone else, including Fuller. He was not ready to
face the barrage of questions he knew they would ask, and because he hadn't spoken to Booker since his arrival at the hospital, he had no idea... Show
more content on Helpwriting.net ...
He felt haggard, old beyond his years, and his outlook on life was jaded. In the space of an hour, seven men had violently stripped him not only of his
dignity but his trust and altruism, leaving his heart shriveled and blackened. He was an emotionless automaton; he walked, talked, ate and did
everything his doctor asked him. But through it all he felt nothing; no anguish, no rage, no malevolence. The emotional dial in his brain had switched
to self–loathing, and that was the only emotion he now felt. He hated every aspect of his body, and he had taken to picking and scratching at the
skin of his upper arm. Up until now he had managed to keep the sores hidden from the doctors and nurses. He knew how to play the game; show
them what they wanted to see and they left you in peace. It was that simple. If they knew the full extent of his psychological breakdown, he was
certain they would not have agreed to release him. But he kept his newfound compulsive eccentricities to himself. None of the staff knew he stood
under the shower without ever washing himself because the idea of touching his naked flesh repulsed him. They had no clue he hung a towel over the
mirror in the bathroom so he wouldn't catch sight of his reflection. These were his dirty little secrets, and if he could keep up the charade for just a
little longer, he could

The Night
The crowd filled out of the arena, the buzz and excitement leaving with them. Dark walls echoed the heavy sounds of the metal equipment as it was
scraped across the floor by the road crew. In the absence of the band, the crowd and the music, the atmosphere seemed as bleak and empty as the
crowd floor itself.
Suddenly, echoes of past joyous screams were replaced by a single, blood curdling scream coming from the direction of the cloakroom. The sound,
filled with fear, tore through the arena and bounced off hard walls, sending instant shivers down the spines of the stage crew.The band's manager,
Stewart, ran down the bleak hallway to find a cleaner, standing in terror facing the centre of the large, well lit room. A strong,... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
He felt like the room was spinning while he was motionless in the middle of it. How could this happen? It was Ben Jackson. The lead singer of the band.
******************************
DCI Jonathon Smith sauntered in, wearing a sleek black suit which contrasted with his pale, gaunt skin. His steel grey eyes swept across the scene,
analysing everything from behind the vibrant 'Crime Scene. Do Not Cross' tape. He noted how quickly the team managed to tape it off – and how the
usually busy area was clear. He was impressed; it must've been difficult, especially with such a high profile victim. The DCI's eyes darted to the body,
his mind immediately began of every possible theory behind the victims death. A bad argument with security? A crazed fan? An inside job?
His thoughts were interrupted as DC Reynolds came bustling over, sorting through the masses of paperwork in his white gloved hands. DC Reynolds
began to update DCI Smith in a hoarse voice.
"Forensics say the initial cause of death was electrocution. Guitar was wired wrong apparently. As soon as it was switched on that was it– he was a
goner."
DC Reynolds eyes glazed over; he seemed lost in his own thoughts. DCI Smith raised his eyebrows, expecting the DC to continue.
"Is that all you have to tell me from the two hours you've been here?"
DCI Smith was not a fan of time wasting.
"Oh, no... sorry. The victims' throat has also been disfigured – badly. I guess the

Forms Of Writing Style In Night By Elie Wiesel
Throughout all 109 pages of Elie Wiesel's memoir, Night, various forms of writing style make an appearance. In describing his life during the
Holocaust, Wiesel portrays his experiences in a very straightforward manner. Wiesel inspires emotion within the reader through his minimalistic choice
of words and writing techniques, as well as painting a picture for the reader to help them imagine what he had gone through. The style of writing used
by Elie Wiesel in his memoir causes the readers to pause and become more involved with his messages and words.
In his memoir, Wiesel displays the use of rhetorical questions to make the reader pause and think about the words he uses in greater depth. The
purpose of including these rhetorical questions is to have the reader stop and place themselves in the situation. Also, to have them search for answers
when, in the end, there is none to be found. Wiesel enhances the writing of the memoir with rhetorical questions on several occasions, such as when he
writes, "Why did I pray? A strangequestion. Why did I live? Why did I breathe?" (2). Here, he is proposing questions; however, he seeks no answers
to them. He is simply attempting to make the reader wonder the same things as him and think about what he is pondering in his shoes. Equivalently,
Wiesel also states, "Here or elsewhere–– what difference did it make? To die today or tomorrow, or later?" (93). In this situation, the author is making
the reader hesitate and search for the

The Night
In Lancaster, Pennsylvania, a young girl named Colleen sat in a small square room with lavender walls. This night was spent in her own company
like all others were. Children's laughter from outside her window masked the girl's sporadic sighs. Colleen wasn't sure what made her so different
from the other kids in her neighborhood or at school or why being different was considered a bad thing. All Colleen knew was she didn't have a
friend in the whole wide world, and it was lonely. Although her parents loved her as a baby, as time went on they began to lose interest as if she was
a hobby and not their child. She was watching the neighborhood kids play when she looked up and saw what she thought was a shooting star, but was
really just an... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
She motioned him to the other side of the room where he sat and watched her sleep for the rest of the night. As the morning sun shown through the
curtains, and the birds chirped their early morning songs Colleen sat up under the impression her visitor last night had all been a dream. When she
turned and saw T.W clear as day, sitting at the edge of her bed, she knew things were about to change. Having been the butt of the joke with the
kids in school, Colleen wasn 't about to let a bird get one past her. She had a lot of questions and T.W had the answers. "I 'm not the only one of my
kind, there 's many others like me." then, "but not quite like me." shortly after. when she asked him who his kind was, he said that there 's a farm
in a secret special place. There 's a field that goes for miles and in the very center is a farm next to a Victorian era house with a garden. The house is
large and pink with sharp pointed roofs. The windows are a mixture of squares and ovals, with a white wrap around porch and an octogonal tower.
This didn 't seem right to Colleen, who was in a social studies class. "Why would someone build a house like that in the middle of nowhere? Doesn 't
make sense to me." that 's another thing about her, she was a straightforward person and T.W knew that, so he trusted her with a secret story. "It was
the late 1800's, and there

The Night
Evelyn peeked down the hall from her bedroom making sure the light to her parents' room was off, indicating that they had gone to sleep. When she
saw the darkened hallway she knew that her parents had gone down for the night. Her younger sisters, ages 10 and 8, had been put to sleep a couple
hours before. There was no one watching. Evelyn tiptoed down the stairs–thank God they were carpeted, which helped shield the noise of her steps–and
she grabbed her mom's car keys carefully exiting the house, shutting the door quietly behind her. She jogged to the car, which was parked on the street
in front of her house and hopped inside, starting the engine. She quickly looked back to make sure that the older car's engine had not stirred anyone in...
Boys. Always flirting, Evelyn thought. She could hear the music pumping from inside the house and as she entered she was met with the wildest sight
she'd ever seen. Evelyn had been to her fair share of parties in the past, but none to quite this extent. It was a post–game celebration. They had just
beaten their rivals from the next town over to make it to the playoffs. The game had been an epic, three–pointer–at–the–buzzer one, so everyone was
still majorly wired. Evelyn was making her way deeper inside the house when she heard a voice calling her name.
"Evelyn," the voice slurred as she felt the arms of her friend Emily wrapping around her shoulders. Emily was the wilder one in their friendship; always
convincing Evelyn to come to another party or another club. "Hi drunky," Evelyn responded smiling at her friend. "You doing okay?" Emily nodded
and thrust a cup filled with what Evelyn assumed was beer in her direction. "Yes!" She said cheerily. "Drink up! You have some catching up to do!"
Emily extended her hand to Evelyn and dragged her further into the house. Evelyn just smiled and shook her head, taking a large gulp of her drink.
Eight Hours Later
The first thing Evelyn noticed was that her neck was unbelievably sore. Where on earth was she? She opened her eyes and saw that she was laying on
a couch, herself on one end and Emily on the other. She looked around at the tattered remains of the party from the night before. Red solo

The Night
The building has erupted into a fury of unnatural swaying motions. Bright flames now rage around me as if they themselves are the tongues of
death trying to reach out, grasp me, and lick my last breath away with their suffocating smoke. I start yelling in a coughing voice, which is rapidly
being choked away by all of the smoke inhalation. I am praying that someone can hear my hoarse voice over the noise of the deafening angry flames.
The flames are reaching out towards me even closer and again I yell!
"Wake up! Wake up mylove!"
My eyes opened, my heart was pounding like a wild drum embedded in the deepest part of my chest, and I was being held and kissed by my wife.
"It was only a bad dream my love. You were screaming and turning in your sleep, but I am here to hold you and love all your bad dreams away."
I reached out and held her close to my heart. I felt the smoothness of her long light brown hair that is blessed with touches of red. I took in the heart
fluttering sight of her perfect elegant smile. My eyes then connected to hers like a magnet and I looked deep into her vivid silvery blue sparkling eyes.
The sparkle of her eyes is the truest reflection of her sparkling optimistic character. When she is in my arms our hearts beat the melody of love in
perfect sync. She has been my wife for five years now, but she never ceases to delight me. I put my lips against her ears and said, "You always take
away my fears and you always love all my troubles away."
A loud

The Night
It was nearing midnight by now. The light snowfall made the night even darker, and the windshield wipers were the only thing making a sound,
besides the slight rumble of the engine. Pulling into a driveway, an upper class man named Zachariah started the winding stretch that was his
driveway to his mansion of a house. Trees lined the little dirt path up until the final stretch of the driveway, where it opened up into a large green field
adorned with a Victorian Mansion located at the top of a small hill. Many nights Zachariah would sit atop the third floor balcony, gazing over his small
fields and staring into the night sky. The majority of these types of nights were ones plagued with nightmares, ones filled with terrible monsters and...
He stepped forward and raised his arms in a hugging gesture. Loraine 's violet nightgown dragged slightly along the cold stone as she reached out
to hug her husband. As they embraced, Zachariah could smell the lavender scent from her shampoo, and hugged her even tighter. They released,
but still kept each other close as they stepped inside the house, Zachariah so distracted from everything besides his wife he left the suitcase lying
on porch, to be buried under the still falling snow. It would not be until they had made it into the kitchen that either of them would speak. It would
be Loraine that broke the silence. "Are you feeling well hunny? I know it is very late but I made some soup not long ago, and I am sure it is still
quite warm. Oh, how tired you look. Come, sit down," motioning to the chair at the head of the small table in the corner of their kitchen. Zachariah
simply shook his head and apologized, saying that he was too beaten by work to be able to even do the smallest activities besides sleep. Ever an
understanding wife, Loraine took his arm and guided him down the hallway and up the stairs to the third floor, where their bedroom was located. At
the top of the stairs she left him to get ready, as she needed to clean up the kitchen and make sure everything was locked up. Zachariah went to the
bedroom, and paused a moment before walking in. The mere sight of his bed sometimes caused him troubles, and he needed to prepare himself before
he

The Night
The weekend approached fast, and the fall air in San Diego County was becoming crisper in the mornings. By this time, depending on the elevation in
San Diego County, there was frost upon the leaves of grass that were still green as ever. Daytime temperatures were still reaching seventy to
seventy–five degrees on average. It was Friday of that weekend, and Clarissa had told Johnny that she would meet him, all dolled up, at the cocktail
lounge of the 'Lyndham Hotel,' which was just above the Oceanside Pier. Clarissa arrived first at the new and glamorous hotel cocktail lounge. It
was a busy evening, and there were quite a few people already scattered about the lounge. As she walked into the lounge's entrance, her look and
presence turned many heads. It was exactly seven in the evening when Clarissa strutted herself into this establishment looking and feeling her best.
She rested up two hours before this event so she would have as much energy as she could. The heads turned. Men and women dressed in
conservative cocktail wear examined Clarissa from head to toe. From her toes, she was wearing silver strapped, open toe, high heels. Her toenails
were painted red. As one looked from her feet to her legs, her skinny legs shined from the lotion she applied to them. Right below her knee caps, there
was the base of her cocktail dress. The cocktail dress she picked out was that of a pure white color. The dress consisted of a slight imprinted design
within it; it must have been a faint

The Night
The walls of the shaft violently shuddered, the ground shook, rocks tumbled and a deep rumbling sound filled my ears. The workers around me
were yelling and running to safety, I ran too but I realised I had to go back and get it, I just had too. I blacked out and was awoken by Jim, he was
shaking me, trying to get me back to consciousness. It felt like I was paralysed, I couldn't move or talk. I looked around in a haze, there was no
one in sight, all I could feel was the agonising pain in my leg. I looked down to my leg wrapped in a jacket, covered in blood. When I finally
regained function I was bombarded by Jim questioning "why would you do that Robbie, why would you run into danger?", I just stared blankly in
response. "We are stuck in here, the rest got out, why would you go back?" he asked angrily. I replied with "I had to get this" while looking down to
the small ratty teddy bear I held in the calloused palm of my hand.
The day my sweet daughter gifted me with that bear will forever be embedded in my memory. It all started on a cloudy day in May, I walked up
the path to my home surrounded by limp and lifeless tulips and could not help but smirk at our resemblance. I had been out of work for seven
months, applying for hundreds of jobs, yet to be successful. I was depressed and angry that I was not able to help my family, we were struggling and I
was the root of the cause. I lumbered through the front door only to be greeted by Ava, my beautiful six year old daughter,

The Night Sky
It was a dark and stormy night, the wind blows as the ghostly moonlight filled the darkness. George the highwayman made his way toward Bess
the innkeeper's daughter. She was gazing out the window when the two of their eyes met. Hers, black as the night sky, and a dark red love knot
placed on her hair. A red dress made of the fabric silk. Her hair was a dark brown, but could have been mistaken as black. Her outfit fit her
personality as much as it did the highwayman. I hope he loves poetry. Bess thought. He rides toward her on his horse dressed in a fancy cloak
colored velvet, with a curled white wig and doe brown skin, lace wrapped around his chin, and the most beautiful brown eyes anyone had ever seen.
His boots sitting as high... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Suddenly, George pulled out his pistol and shot at the redcoat closest to him.
"How does a silver bullet feel in your gut." George squaked. Then the second redcoat came up and cried,
"I wouldn't know, you didn't hit me!" The two remaining redcoats chased after George for as long as they could.
"Yip yip," George tells his horse with a calm voice, "try and catch me, and I will give up my fortune to you." The redcoats continue to play in
George's game. The redcoats sped up and suddenly called,
"Highwayman, slow down or force will be a factor of this chase." George wittingly says,
"Ok, if we have to!" George shoots the third redcoat. Now only one redcoat remains. The last red coat shrills at George, " Alas, it is the end for you."
The redcoat pulls out his weapon and shoots for the highwayman's head. "You missed," George implies angrily, "and you shot my hat."
George whips out his sword and turns around toward the red coat. He takes his head with one clean swipe of the blade. By the time George finds
the perfect gift, it is already nighttime. He has no idea the other redcoats are tracking down Bess while he is still riding back to her. They raid the
inn and drink all the ale. The redcoats quickly make their way to Bess's room, and tie her hands with a rope on the foot of her bed. I've got to find a
way to warn the highwayman. Bess inferred.

The Night
Splash! That was the first large water balloon Kristen dropped off the deck. When I watched the slo–mo video I took, you could not even see the
balloon until right when it hit the ground. Disappointed, she and Mackenzie filled up another one and we tried the same thing again. The video
was still to dark to see, so they suggested that I move to the other side of the deck for better lighting. On the third try, we got the video to work
perfectly. We all huddled around my phone screen and laughed as we watched the balloon slowly fall to the ground. My other three friends ran
out to see what all the laughing was about. They watched the video and began cracking up too. After, we all went back inside due to the amount of
bugs outside. We spent the rest of the night talking and laughing until we all fell asleep at around two in the morning. This was the last night we
all spent together before heading off to college. Even though it was in the middle of the summer, life took over and we were all busy on different
days. The one way that we were able to keep in contact was through a group message, which is still what we use now that we are all in college. This
was the last time we all hung out, and it was one filled with laughter and memories that I will never forget. We were at a point in our lives where we
knew we were all going off to college in a month and knew that us hanging out would not happen again until November. The group message is the one
thing that has kept us in

The Night
It was weird, but the cats seemed to have understood me as they both began to turn slowly around and sulk away from the school. Heading back
towards wherever they had originally come from. As I watched them gradually leave a third one shot out of the bushes that flanked the school's
central staircase and it quickly joined the others. I then continued on watching them for a long moment wishing I could go with them. But alas, I let
out a sigh and dragged my sorry butt inside. After only a minute or two of searching the halls I had found my homeroom and took a seat near the
back, close to the windows. I had reckoned that at least looking out the windows would've kept me occupied until the next bell rang. Homeroom kicked
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That was out of the question. Yeah, making it to my classes today on time was certainly going to be a hard row to hoe. So, by the time the clock
had struck 8:05 a.m. I was already late for my first real class, Physics with Mr. McLaren. By the time I had found which room it was that I needed
to report to all the hallways were nearly deserted. Completely void of other students and had been so for at least the last couple of minutes. So, I
knew already that I would be walking into physics with all eyes on me, an unsettling feeling to say the least. After finding the place, the door to the
room was still open, so I did my best to just nonchalantly walk in as surreptitiously as I could as I quickly gazed over the room for an open seat. I
had spotted one still abandoned in the far recesses of the room tucked away underneath a poster of the periodic table that hung on the wall slightly
crooked. I took my seat, careful to keep my head down, not wanting to look up and see everyone staring at me. But after a long moment of silence, I
force myself to pick up my head and take a look around. Mr. McLaren... well, the thirty somethingish man who I had assumed was Mr. McLaren
was standing at the front of the room with his arms crossed while looking directly at me. "And you are?" he asked with a touch of condescension to his
voice while giving a little head shake that only a gay man or black woman would do. "She's Cera Singer from Saraland," a voice called

The Night
During the summer you can find the same scene on any Saturday night. I see an elderly man near the entrance setting behind a table covered with
stacks of booklets. I can tell he is employed by the park by the dark green polo shirt and tan ball cap he is wearing. Even from a distance I can hear him
shout, "Programs! Get your programs. Three dollars!" As a middle aged man wearing a dark t–shirt and baggy blue jeans walks through the door. It
becomes obvious that he is experienced with the process. With cash in hand he approaches the man selling programs and makes a silent exchange.
Tossing his cash on the table, he snatches up a program and quickly makes his way to a nearby table to study his newly purchased information. Just
then I noticed a well dress couple just inside the building. Their eyes are full of excitement and wonder as they glance around and whisper quietly to
each other. Slowly they approach the man selling programs. Although I am too far away to hear the conversation, it appears they are new to the game
and the greeter is explaining the documents he has available. The couple purchases a program and slowly walks away holding hands. They continue to
look around as the young man begins to flip through the booklet they just purchased. The woman tugs on his arm and they too make their way to a
table in the middle of the room.
As the evening progresses, the room fills with a variety of people. All ages, races and genders have come to this same location. Soon the

The Night
She strode into the room as elegant as ever, as if trying to be noticed, trying to be loved, trying to say something. Nothing moved in the silent room,
as she walked in and observed it carefully, like a hawk stalking its prey. She became aware that she was now alone in the dark room, with nothing to
notice her, to love her, to hear her. She walked over to the window and looked out into the night. The dark streets were silent, with not one light to
be seen in the night. She closed her eyes and hoped, that when she opened them, she wouldn 't be alone anymore, that she would have a family to
be loved by. But she knew in her heart that her hope was false, and she was still standing in the dark, now chilling room. Iris stood there, staring
into the darkness of the empty room. The realization of being alone hit her like a silent explosion went off in the room itself. Iris was hopeless.
She walked over to the dusty light switch that loomed in the corner of the room, as if to warn its visitors of what was about to be lifted from the
shadows. Iris flicked the switch cautiously, and closed her eyes as the room enlightened. Iris slowly opened her eyes to adjust to the bright light, and
observed the new perspective of the room. She looked around, and one thing was different. A boy. Sitting in an old chair on the far side of the room
that looked as if it would collapse at any moment. Iris suddenly felt different. She felt a small spark of warmth deep inside her, gradually growing,
making

The Night
He awoke with a gasp. Heart pounding in his ears, his eyes darted around the dark room. His breath came in short, rapid pants, his thoughts were
fuzzy. Cold sweat beaded on his skin and soaked his tawny hair, making it stick to his forehead. The damp sheets twisted around his legs. Slowly,
his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. There was his desk with a small, messy mountain of homework that need to be finished, his closet, and the
familiar bare walls. A little light trickled in through gaps of the blackout curtains. With a groan, Leon untangled himself from the sheets and
dropped his head back onto his pillow. He twisted his neck to face the digital clock on the nightstand. 3:05 said the glowing red numbers. Leon
glared at the clock. This was the fourth time he 'd woken up tonight. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling and tracing the small cracks with his
eyes. All sleep had been banished for now. What had he been dreaming about? Leon 's face scrunched up with effort. Blurred images began to flood
back into his mind. An early morning in the woods, an ominous house on the hillside, and her face... Suddenly, he couldn 't breathe right. Pressure
built in his chest as if it was being stepped on. He swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat. He could feel tears well up in his eyes,
but he wouldn 't cry. He couldn 't. Leon squeezed his eyes shut. I 'm sorry. I 'm so sorry. God, he couldn 't even think about those three weeks without
feeling guilty.

The Night
Everything was beautiful that night. The sky was as clear as the spring water. The weather was so beautiful that we thought that we were not in
the summer. I was sitting outside the house in our garden with my parents. We were having a nice chat after a delicious homemade crispy chicken
with fries that my mom usually do. Everything was just perfect until my father received the unexpected call. The call that I wished my father
didn't receive. "Hello...what! What are you saying! Calm down I'm coming right away." I was really nervous. I never saw my father very shocked
liked that night. He immediately talked to my mom " Come and get my clothes ready, I need to go now!" I knew that moment that my father
wanted to tell my mom something that he didn't want me to know about. When he was about to leave I stopped him " Hey dad what is going on?
Can I come with you?" "No! Just stay here and everything will be fine." He refused to tell me, but I also refused to let him go without telling me.
"But can you at least tell me what's going on? I know that you were talking to my brother. Is he going to be fine?" " Just go inside and I'll talk to
you later." I went inside the house, and sat in the living room trying to let go, but I couldn't. I knew that he talked to my mom while she was
preparing his clothes, so I went to talk to her hoping that she will tell me." Hey mom can I talk to you for a second?" when I saw her tears I got
nervous." Why are you crying? Is everything ok? Is my

Night Nights

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Night Nights