Year 11 Creative Writing

Year 11 Creative Writing
The raspy wind rises in swirls, encircling the entirety of my lean body. The parched, coarse sand
scrapes across my angular face, burying and scraping itself into the warmth of fresh, open wounds.
The sun scorches my skin raw, condemning the violence, the blood, and the screams that seem to
echo all throughout the lifeless mountain side. Welcome to Afghanistan. Bitter laughter fills my
head.
"Major James D. reporting for duty sir."
White birds start chirping above me. General William P. enters. My battered right hand rises
instinctively above my right brow in a salute and my left hand grasps the familiar metal in its
possession tighter. Although the sand muffles the sound of the General's boots, the ascendancy in his
disciplined strides remains steadfast as he makes his way towards his ... Show more content on
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"Major, your target today is a small family consisting of a middle aged female, male, and a 10 year
old boy. You will terminate them effectively after interrogation. Do you understand?"
I didn't.
"Yes, sir! I will interrogate them surrounding their disobedience to follow curfew protocols last
night, sir!"
"Good. You will exit in 5, 4, 3, 2..."
I leap, burning my palms on the concrete road, but the pain is subdued by the smell that pierces my
nose. With my gun secured to my side, I enter the interrogation site that seems to reek of a metallic
scent: a smell I know too well, the smell of blood.
"Do you or do you not understand that no one is to keep their lights on after 9:00 p.m?"
Silence. My hand, conditioned by this lifestyle, moves to deliver yet another slap across the man's
face. The birds start chirping frantically.
"Answer me. Do you or do you not understand?"
I shoot their yelping little dog to make my point. The little boy who is holding the bleeding dog
starts wailing and the mother goes hysteric.

"N..no listen to me, I don't know why you are doing this to us, but please let us go Jason.
... Get more on HelpWriting.net ...

Ultrasonography Research Paper
sonar that ships use. How ultrasonography works is that a device placed on the body will release
some high–frequency sound waves that will then record the sound waves' echoes. As these sound
waves bounce off of internal organs, they will intern locate the anatomical structures that are being
examined (Batdorf and Lacy). Ultrasonography completely depends on the user, meaning that only a
highly skilled and savvy professional can use this tool correctly (Finch). These professionals are
referred to as sonographers. Sonographers may deal with patients ranging from perfectly healthy to
close to death (Finch). Ultrasonography is mainly used for authenticating pregnancies and giving an
estimated date for the birth of the baby. Sonographers must have ... Show more content on
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A couple of examples are William Fry and Russell Meyers ("History"). William fry was working at
the University of Illinois while Russell Meyers was at the University of Iowa. They both performed
craniotomies where they used the high powered ultrasound to help patients suffering from
Parkinson's disease ("History"). William Fry also was working on improving the standards of
research and the standards on the medical instruments that were used at that time. In physical and
rehabilitation medicine, ultrasonic energy was starting to become used quite a bit. One of the many
men that were well known for doing this was Jerome Gersten. He worked at the University of
Colorado in 1953 and he used ultrasound to treat his patients who suffered from rheumatic arthritis
("History"). In the year 1940, H Gohr and Th. Wedekind exhibited their paper revealing the
possibility that an ultrasonic machine could be used as a diagnosis tool ("History"). They stated in
their paper that using ultrasonography to diagnose a patient would be able to reveal tumors,
abscesses, and such. Using ultrasonography, doctors would be able to treat their patients and would
be able to remove the tumors inside of them before they became a problem. Unfortunately for them,
however, they were unable to write any valid answers from the experiments that they had

The Bridge Journal Entry
The ride was pretty uneventful, except the songs they started singing half way there. I just sat there
quietly in my own world. I was also looking at my vine bracelet. I could feel the life of the plant in
it. I could also move it which was pretty cool. I wondered what the full extent of my powers were. I
wondered would i be able to do the changing the weather with my mood thing like the original
summer. I was snapped out of my thoughts when doors started opening and they started to unload
the car. I heard bits and pieces of their conversation which was crowned out by their movement and
all the other things going on around us.
Max opened thee door for me to get out. He also took off my seat belt after I tried getting out but
was restrained by the protective device. He looked at me ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net
...
I followed them as we went through the door then through the narrow hall. We went through another
opening I'm guessing it was the plane. I was greeted by men and women who seemed to be pretty
happy and were smiling. I wonder why they are on the plane. I saw two open doorways to rooms
that held a large amount of chairs. There were also some stairs. I was gently nudge towards some
stairs after words where exchanged between the people on the plane which I just notice where
wearing matching uniforms and Eddie. I started to walk up the stairs.
I walked up and saw it looked nicer than the other chairs did on the first floor. The chairs were in
pairs and each pair of chairs were turned inward so they where facing another pair of chairs also
turned inward. There was also a table in–between them. The chairs were a dark blue in color. I sat in
one of them close by the window. Max sat in front of me, Chase sat next to me and Eddie in front of
Chase. The chairs it self was even softer than the bed. I was sinking into the chair almost. Chase was
talking to Max and Eddie about something that I couldn't quite pick

Echo And Narcissus Analysis
Comparing Tragedies: Echo vs. Narcissus
Ovid displays an impressive grasp of language in his poem Narcissus and Echo which allows him to
address many classic themes, the chief of these being the theme of unfulfilled love and the suffering
it brings. The most notable instances of this type of suffering are Echo and Narcissus'
transformations; Echo withers away until she is naught but a voice, and Narcissus is trapped in place
until he eventually transforms into a flower. Upon finishing this tale, the reader is left with much to
consider, including the question: which fate is worse? Of course, both fates are certainly cruel, but
they given the specific themes and diction that Ovid uses when describing each pseudo–death,
Echo's punishment seems far less dehumanizing than Narcisssus'; whereas Narcissus is completely
objectified by his transformation into a beautiful flower, Echo at least maintains the power of voice.
Given Ovid's diction during Echo's introduction, it is clear that her fate is directly tied to the power
of speech and voice. Ovid calls her "resounding Echo" as if this is her title, and the use of the word
"resounding" is very important (line 26). Why not call her "loud" or "huge" or any of the other
synonyms tied to the word "resounding"? One can only assume that Ovid wanted to make use of the
word's other definition: resonant and reverberant. By essentially introducing her as "Reverberant
Echo" and mentioning that her "speech was strange", Ovid immediately alerts the reader to what is
both Echo's downfall and her saving grace: Words have power. Echo over–uses words in her favor
when "she'd talk and talk,/ to give her sister nymphs just enough/ time to slip away before they were
found out," by Juno (lines 38–40), and eventually, her speech turns on her when she is able to do
little more than repeat Narcissus' words back to him despite how much she wishes to sing his
praises. In the end, however, Echo's final punishment is to become no more than a voice, no more
than a literal echo. Surely, this fate is cruel, but perhaps it is not completely unforgiving; though it is
very little consolation, Echo at least maintains the power of voice, and however diluted this power
might be, Ovid writes,

Echo And Narcissus
During this episode we learn about the life of Echo and Narcissus. The story starts with Echo, Echo
once lived with Zeus and Hera as she was a nymph and distracted Hera while Zeus would sneak off
and cheat on Hera. After she found out, Hera punished Echo by cursing her to live forever although
she continues to age, to only speak when spoken to, to only repeat what others say and sending her
to the mortal world. When in the mortal world Echo was walking through the woods when she came
across the most beautiful man she had ever seen, she fell in love, she instantly tried to hug him, but
was distraught with the man's reaction when he was disgusted and said that he was much too
beautiful to be with her. The man was Narcissus, although he lived

Short Story : ' The Couch '
I was lounged on the couch, cuddled up with Anthony and watching a movie, well, he was watching
a movie. I was taking a nap. Ian played in the kitchen when a scream echoed throughout the house,
"HOLY SHIT!" I shot up from the couch, my confused and tired body filling with a panicked
adrenaline, "H–huh? Wha– what 's going on?" "DUDE! You gotta try this!" I blinked at Ian who just
jogged from the kitchen into the living room. Something his hands was flopping around. He shook it
in my direction. I took the warm think from his hands, still a little woozy, "Wh– whatsit?" "SO I
USED THE NEW WAFFLE MAKER TO MAKE TWO WAFFLES AND THEN I PUT CHEESE
IN BETWEEN THEM AND SMUSHED IT TOGETHER AND I MADE A GRILLED CHEESED
WAFFLE!" Ian smiled wide, his blue eyes sparkling and full of excitement. I blinked again, taking a
bite of the sandwich. A second passed as I chewed, "That 's the most amazing thing I 've ever
tasted." Anthony took his feet of the coffee table and stood up, taking the sandwich from my hand,
"Let me try this." Another second passed, "Holy shit." "RIGHT?!" "Ian... you 're a genius." "Yeah,
this totally makes up for the blender incident." Everyone took a minute to shiver at the horrible
memory of the blender incident. "Can we put a patent on this?" "I think we should." "I 'm going to
make this for dinner." "Good idea." "Oh hey, did you ever give Alice the box of goods?" "Goods?" I
asked, raising an eyebrow. "I guess not. I 'll go get it." Ian went

Short Story : ' V '
~Emma 's P.O.V~
As he came up behind me I felt a warm sensation on my neck, only to realize it was my dad looking
over my shoulder while reading my text messages. If he only knew the truth about us. How much
would change? Would he still see me the same? After being deployed for several years in Iraq he is
finally home. Now everything is going to be different, even mom doesn 't know and quite frankly I
don 't want either of them to find out. I can already imagine their expressions right now, Mom would
look at me like a kicked puppy while Dad would drive off and handle things is way, the military
way. I already know that if I even implied the truth about us Mom and Dad would argue all night
long.
"I thought I told you to get off that thing about an hour ago!", Dad said as he was trying to prove a
point. He snatched it out of my hand and started scrolling down my contacts. They were all mainly
my close girlfriends, well all except for one. The last boy on the planet my parents would ever want
me to date, Liam Daniel Sanchez. With those dreamy hazel eyes, gorgeous light brown hair, and
under his shirt is countless hours of swim practice. Thank goodness I deleted any visible contact
between Liam and I.
"Emma, darling its time for you to get to bed you have school in the morning and its almost 11pm".
"Okay mom, I 'll be down in ten minutes to say goodnight." My mom knows its always a constant
battle for me to fall asleep, therefore the process takes roughly and hour and a

Midoriya Monologue
Hearing the sound of the one I love's laugh brings me the joy in the day today I need. Knowing he is
happy makes my happy. I don't show my feelings, but Midoriya knows what I'm feeling. Show I
don't have to show them.
Holding his hand gives me strength to move on in the world. No, not holding his hand, just seeing
him it's enough.
Yes, we are holding hands me and him right now. We are closer together. Nothing can break is apart.
It's just Midoriya and I, and the world.
Something colorful pasted us, a purple–blue color it was. Flying around in the sky. Instead of flying.
in front of us – it flew pass us, I to the field of trees that was on both either sides of us.
I looked over to the one I called "my lover" he looked mesmerized by ... Show more content on
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Knock him out?"
"Yeah, perfect idea mate! Beat him until he passes out."
[B]BANG!
The Australian shot one bullet at me, the bullet ripped my pants and wounded my leg. I look down
this time, blood everywhere, coloring the snow a red colo. Just from one bullet.
Then, snowflakes were falling. It was winter after all. Maybe, maybe Todoroki were making these
snowflakes. Maybe All Mighty won't get hurt because of me.
Both of the men came up to me and started kicking me, punching me. More blood colored the snow.
But only after a few hits, everyone, everything, even the snowflakes were black.
–––
I ran, as fast as I could towards that huge "Bang" sound. Hoping it wasn't Midoriya. Just some
random hobo killing a duck with a mini gun.

"I call upon those who doubt us. I call those 15,000 snowflakes to guide me – to guide me to whom
I call my lover!" I shouted at the top of my lungs
I clap my hands together, a icy blue brush comes from my hands. Calling out my power of the ice.
Once that was gone, I looked up to see if it worked, and it did.
Snow, the snowflakes were falling. Just what I wanted. While I ran I see certain snowflakes
glowing, I know they'll guide me to Midoriya. I only have 15,000 of

History of Reverb and Echo in Audio Production Recording...
History of Reverb and Echo in Audio Production Recording Natural occurring reverb goes further
back than man on earth. Since before man, creatures and nature made sounds that created natural
reverb and echo. But now in today's age with men and the modern technology that they have created
there are all sorts of ways to create reverb and echo. From big metal sheets to plug–ins in a DAW on
a computer, engineers have found ways to incorporate and benefit from reverb and echo on a
recorded audio track. But before skipping into today's ways of recording reverb and echo let's shed
some light on what reverb and echo truly is and where it came from. Reverberation or as most
people refer to it as reverb, refers to the way sound waves reflects of ... Show more content on
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A reverb chamber is a hollow arena used to create echoing sounds. Building a room with non–
parallel surfaces and then applying shellac to all the surfaces so make them acoustically reflective
creates an echo/reverb chamber. A speaker and microphones in the room would pick up the
reflection of the speakers output this method was very popular in the 60's. Soon enough a new
technology of reverb came about, Spring reverb. Sam Phillips of Sun Records had used tape echo
when recording Elvis in the early days. Spring reverb is a type of electromechanical reverb device. It
creates a reverb effect by inducing sound vibrations at one end of a long wire (which is coiled into a
spring to decrease the amount of area it takes up, that's why it is called spring reverb). Another
transducer at the extreme end picks up the vibrations. As the waves reflect back and forth from one
end of the spring to the other, and back, a reverb effect is produced. Spring reverbs have a harsh,
trebly sound (and vulnerable to exterior shock), but they are inexpensive to build and provided a
new way for reverb. Eventually the technology became more advanced and a new form of reverb
was created; plate reverb changed the reverb game in 1957 when German company EMT
(Elektromesstecknik) released the first plate reverb, EMT 140 Reverberation Unit. This plate reverb
system used an electromechanical transducer to create vibration in a large plate of

Analysis Of The Book ' The Ghost '
(Enter the Villan) Here she comes, dressed all in blue, from head to toe. She walks purposefully, her
long formal robe swishing against the floor as she stalks towards me. She looks elegant and cold,
but the menacing grin upon her face betrays her zeal. I catch a glimpse of the lightning in her forest
green eyes as she lurches forwards. I reel backwards, terrified of her ability to skewer my whole
world. My thoughts whirl around as I tumble ceaselessly. That face is unmistakable, the foul witch
of Hal'edon. It's just a dream. Woken up from my restful slumber, I relive that nightmare. She 's the
ghost, the apparition, the questionable spirit that haunts me both when I 'm asleep and awake. I
stumble out of bed, grabbing a nearby torch, and wiping the sleep from my face. My castle is silent
and damp tonight. Nearly too quiet for my own comfort. I still feel unsettled, as the thought of an
attack runs rampant in my head. I try to calm myself by pacing around my bed, but the rug is ever so
slightly damp from the humidity, and it makes the soles of my feet feel sticky. Listening for any
noises, I try to be reassuring. There is no one in the house. There aren 't any noises in the house that
would suggest people present. I am safe. Suddenly the sound of small footsteps are audible from
what I discern to be the cellar. Gathering my courage, I carefully exit my room, and round the
corner, my hand sliding across the cool, rough stone wall. Tip toeing down the old

The Medea
Diane Downs. Susan Smith. Andrea Yates. Casey Anthony (maybe). There is no shortage in current
times of women who, just like Medea in hers, found themselves taking the lives of their children. A
current theatrical production of Euripides' The Medea will give audiences a long felt message, even
though the play itself is set and costumed in classical times and without much overt spectacle. The
Medea is A classical play, and I felt classical costuming was imperative for an accurate
representation of characters and character. Since costume design has a key role in the production,
including "... [to] provide a visual reflection of the personality and nature of each character..."
(Gillette 385), creating an effective and cohesive piece of wearable art for each character becomes
of utmost importance. Medea herself is presented primarily in ... Show more content on
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Her revenge was called "'almost a poetic gesture. She kills her kids after (Jason's) done all this, it
kind of makes sense,'" in an article by Steve Bornfeld. In the design of the show, I wanted to create a
world that absolutely made sense. I wanted the audience to feel the echo of the old cliché that those
who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it. In our current times, it becomes more and
more obvious we still have have not learned from Medea. Medea, to me, wasn't a woman to be
over– sensationalized or set aside as strange. Medea is a cycle, repeating herself generation after
generation, who required a timeless and realistic world to spiral downward in, and I strived to give it
to her. As long as women find themselves losing control in life and making their children into their
victims, Medea will have a practical and current necessity which makes her almost commonplace,
which is echoed in every aspect of my production design, from the set and lights to the costuming

The Sun Has Long Since The Darkness Of The Night
The sun had long since made its way across hemisphere, dipping behind the mountains. There was
no moon tonight, and what light there is, was swallowed up in the darkness of the night, although
watching a sunset was the last thing on my mind tonight.
I felt unsettle as I strode up to the corner bar, located in a neighborhood I would never be caught in
during the day, yet alone in the dead of night, and though I have been watching it for weeks now,
always from the shadows and keeping my distance. Tonight purpose drove me forward.
Pushing the large aged wooden entryway open took more strength than I expected, yet finally giving
way as rusted hinges squealed my arrival. I was tired tonight and it took a few seconds for my eyes
to adjust, the ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"Names Charlie, haven't' seen you here before, what'll it be?" Asked the bartender. "Stoli, make it
two shots no ice" I replied in a whispered voice, keeping my head down.
Flipping two shot glasses up from behind the counter with one hand, reaching for the vodka with the
other, there was a certain gracefulness in his movements.
I sat, sipping my Stoli and waited, still nursing my first shot, keeping the second for... breaking the
silence, the front door squealed open announcing yet another arrival. He was a tall handsome man,
muscular, with the hint of a five–o'clock shadow if you like that sort of thing. His eyes moved from
left to right, and then caught mine in the corner, I quickly averted my gaze, acting like he owned the
place he made a direct line to me. "Come here often, okay if I sit here, I mean you're alone right? He
asked as he intentionally brushed his body against mine as he nearly tripped into the barstool next to
me.
"Free country, sit where you want!" I said in with both disdain and the same hushed whisper.
"Haven't seen you here before, thought I knew all the pretty women come around here, what are you
drinking?"
"None of your business!"
"Don't be that way, just trying to be friendly."
"Stoli" I snipped
"Charlie, get me two more Stoli's" he shouted across the bar. Leaning into me, almost touching
again, he cocked his head trying to look into my eyes and said "green eyes, I

Fall Out-Personal Narrative
Brendon| "Me and Elaine are going to the beach tonight, drinks and s'mores. You in?"–Grayson. I
stare at the text for a second before replying, "sure. I'll meet you guys there around 9?" Grayson's
one of my closest friends. We met when I toured with Fall Out Boy because he kinda helped manage
the tour. He's been dating this girl, Elaine, for around 7 months. I haven't met her, but from what
Grayson's told me, she seems like a huge bitch. That sounds harsh but I could also be wrong.
Apparently she's cheated on him twice with different guys. I'll hang out with almost anyone for free
alcohol and s'mores though. It's currently 8:05 so I might as well start getting ready instead of sitting
here for the next ten minutes in my boxers. I walk down ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
"Nice to meet you." I immediately noticed somewhat of an accent, French maybe? It wasn't very
strong though. "Yeah." I say, not even thinking. Wow, I must sound like an asshole. Oh well. She's
pretty though, I'll give her that. She's got nice body, hair, and eyes. "So Brendon," Grayson says,
trying to cut the little, yet still there tension, "you been seeing anyone lately?" "No, not unless one
night stands count." I say bluntly. Damn, I'm a mess. Drinking during the day, sometimes partying
all night. Being lonely isn't such a great thing, obviously, but I'd rather get drunk and eat s'mores
instead of think about that. After about 5 minutes of walking, we stopped and sat down just along
the water's edge; Grayson and Elaine sat across from me, a small fire we started in the middle. "You
guys wanna truth or dare?" Grayson asks "Sure." Elaine and I say in unison, causing both of us to
look at each other. Her face looked soft and innocent, even though that might sound kinda weird. I
like it. "Okay," I start, "Grayson, truth or dare?" "Dare." "I dare you to...touch the fire." "Done."
Grayson smirks, touching the dark flames and only flinching a little bit. Dude's tough. "My turn
now, fuckers." he laughs and gives Elaine a devilish

Stardust Research Paper
Stardust
My bones are stardust they are the cracked like mosaic the pieces are shattered to the depth of the
ocean
One that I cannot breathe in, sometimes it feels like I am drowning like this death grip that
encompasses the crevice of my rib cage will explode that my heart will not be able to sustain the
beat much longer.
Sometimes I feel more dead then alive, like my song isn't worth singing and my voice has left my
mouth.
I can no longer feel my feet, I feel every weight pulling me down to the depths.
My shadow no longer dances as cannot see the sun, I try and reach for it but I can longer feel.
My body is numb it acts merely as the life boat that keeps me afloat along the river side.
My nails claw into the shoreline desperately searching

Book Report On The Band Aid
"It was the craziest thing, Mom," Rhonda said, sitting next to me.
I nodded. "I agree." I'd been quiet the whole time.
Then I started from the beginning. Telling her mom and dad everything that happened and how fast
it happened. I think they felt sorry for my dad when I told them about the demon. I felt sorry for
him, too, in a way.
"Jesus will have to come to me in full sun for me to ever let you return to that house," Rhonda's
mom declared.
Rhonda smiled. "I told you."
"You were right."
Rhonda looked at me in mock shock. "Say it again so I can record it." She fumbled with her phone.
I rolled my eyes.
"I can't wait to see Alex's face tomorrow when he sees you," Rhonda said.
I touched the band–aid. "He'll be fine."
"I guess we'll see just how much resolve he 's got." She smiled devilishly.
Rhonda's mom slid a drink over to me "Someone tell me what's going on."
Rhonda seemed to enjoy telling her the plan. The corners of Mrs. Wallace's eyes smiled.
"I see his plan failing the moment you walk in the door," she said looking at me. "That boy is in love
with you. When you love someone all sanity just oozes out of your ears." She laughed looking at
Seamus.
Seamus walked up behind his wife and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Sanity is overrated."
She patted his hand. "I bet lunch is ready."
After we ate, Seamus stretched out in his recliner and took a nap.
Mrs. Wallace had a different idea. She herded me and Rhonda into the van and we went shopping
for paint. I had no idea

Descriptive Essay
My bed sheets flew towards the opposite end of the bed when I sat straight up. Even though my
room trapped the cold Minnesota below freezing temperature, sweat dribbled off my body like a
water fountain. It clung to my face and then decorated the glittery gold themed bed sheets my mom
had just bought me a few days ago. I drew my one remaining knee up to my chest and wrapped my
long, thin arms around them. Looking at the alarm clock for the fifth time, I took a long breath and
peeked at the calendar hanging over the walnut desk, which had a big fat black circle around April
11th, 2013; today. Miriam Grayson got down and kneeled next to her bed, thanking God for another
day. What had happened on April 11th, 2011, changed my life. Every ... Show more content on
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It yanked me around for a few seconds and I nearly missed going into the ditch but then got control
and slowed down. Slowly, the line of cars moved closer and closer to passing me, when I noticed the
leader drove a red chevy pickup. Then it happened. My wheels slipped on the ice going over after
getting off a short bridge. My convertible started skidded sideways, moving into the left lane, where
the red pickup and I collided. Before my eyes, I watched as the pickup's driver grew frantic to avoid
hitting me. I heard metal screech on metal when the trucks left front end forcefully hit my door.
(Hearing) After the impaction, both of our vehicles soared around each other as if they played ring–
around–the–rosy. I flew backwards into the ditch, while he stopped turning and sat on the highway.
After what felt like eternity, I dazedly watched the grey suburban second in line behind the truck
stop inches from hitting the van in front of it. Before the suburban stopped completely, I heard a
woman's scream. Then a girl jumped out of the backseat and ran towards my car. She looked
athletic, pretty even. Though she wore no makeup, she bore a slim build and long, and curly light
chocolate hair. (Sight) I wondered if God sent her as my angel to take me to Heaven. I watched her
fly from her car door. She nearly tripped several times but recovered her composure and continued
to run, no swim, in the three feet of snow that covered the ditch in which my car sat in.

A Volleyball Story
"Side out, side out!" "You got this!" The crowd's roaring chant is a broken record on full blast. All of
a sudden, my ears deafen and my heart races. My hands are moist and my throat is dry. Perspiration
slowly trails down my face as I glance at the red and blue scoreboard. The score reads 12–13. My
team, Beach Vibes 14–1 has been going back and forth with Texas team, Magic 14–1 for more than
an hour. Both teams won one set, and now Magic is in the lead by one point. This is such a long and
exhausting game! I think frantically, mentally talking to myself. Focus, Taeah, focus. I try locking
my weary eyes on the tall server but the towering middle blocker with a wingspan of an eagle and
the outside blocker with enhanced biceps were partially blocking my view. The server serves a
powerful topspin jump–serve towards Karlee, but the short, lighting–fast defensive specialist dives
forward to pass the ball. It was a perfect pass, going directly to the petite hands of our skilled setter,
Erica. She sets me on zone 4.
Leaping into the air like a graceful ballerina, I pull my right arm back to load. When my hand
contacts the ball, I slam it at an open hard–angle, zone 4. My team and I cheer hysterically. I hear a
loud, "Do it again!" in the crowd, and I turn to see my mother with proud eyes and a permanent
smile plastered across her face staring intently at me. The score now shows 13–13. Everyone rotates,
and Erica serves a fast, float serve. Number 24 shanks the ball, scoring us a

The Night
"You only bring pain," he said.
Tripping, I place my hand on the bathroom door and rush inside. The door swings behind me as I
rush to the stall.
"We're here to help," I told him and he backed up into the wall. It wasn't the flashlight he was afraid
of, it was me. I lean on the stall door and look down at the floor. I breathe in and out trying to calm
myself down.
What is wrong with you, James? Why can't you stop having these visions? My hand reaches for the
toilet paper. Shaking, it rips a piece off and I dab my wet forehead trying to remove the sweat that
feels like it won't disappear.
"You said you actually talked to one of them?" I sat in a white chair in an interview on live
television.
"Yes," I said nodding my head in agreement.
"Well, what did he say?" The news anchor leaned in closer as I kept my head to the floor. I sighed
and scratched my head while speaking. "He said he was scared ... and ... and wanted me to help
him," I stated.
"And did you?" he asked again. I flashed out and looked at the boy sitting there. "Please let me help
you," I said to him.
He got to his feet and ran out of the house. I started to run after the little boy. I got there and in his
hand was the gun that I kicked to the side. He raised the gun up and pointed it at his head. His little
boney finger was sitting gently on the trigger.
"No!" I yelled as the body fell lifeless to the floor.
I zoned back to the interview and stared at the anchor. "Yes, but sadly we were ambushed,"
I

Lady Macbeth Character Analysis
Karin Thomson from the Shakespeare Institute in the University of Birmingham states very well in
her analysis of Shakespeare's Macbeth that Lady Macbeth is not so much a criminal as she is a
"victim of a pathological mental dissociation upon an unstable daydreaming basis". Thomson
continues to mention that this is "due to the emotional shocks of her past experiences", which of
course is the loss of her child. Lady Macbeth's mentally unstable state ultimately ends with with a
tragic conclusion, death. Lady Macbeth's desires seem to be very clear, her ambition to be queen of
Scotland. Lady Macbeth seems to go along with one of the major themes of the play, deception,
even to go as far as deceive herself. After the murder of Duncan, Macbeth tells his wife "what hands
are here? ha! ... Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? ... making the
green one red" [II.ii.60–4]. Macbeth at this point is filled with guilt and emotion, while Lady
Macbeth is doing the opposite by saying "my hands are of your colour; but I shame to wear a heart
so white" [II.ii.65–6], implying that the murder is not a big deal for her and Lady Macbeth is being
more of a "man" than Macbeth is. However in reality, as we will see later on in the play, Lady
Macbeth is deceiving Macbeth, the audience, and even herself on her mental state, where as she may
seem emotionally stable, she is really broken inside. The second part of the witches predictions is
that the sons of Banquo will be king. Once Macbeth is king, this prediction is his biggest problem.
Macbeth at the time has no heir, as we see from "he has no children" [IV.iii.201]. However, Macbeth
seems to imply earlier that he has had children in the past by saying "and pity, like a naked new–
born babe" [I.vii.21]. Macbeth saying this would seem to imply that he knows what a naked
newborn baby would look like, because he's seen it, his own child. Lady Macbeth later brings
further proof that the have had children in the past by saying "I have given suck, and know how
tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me" [I.vii.54–9]. It is very clear from the text that Lady
Macbeth at one point did in fact have children, and now she does not. While what happens to her
kids are

My Wedding Day In My Family
Chapter – 7
~~~~~ ***** ~~~~~
I woke up and found myself on my bed. I was having a small headache. Throughout the entire week,
I was working on my assignments for school and I was also working on the day–care centre. Today
is my wedding day so I also had to get my wedding dress and man; I was so busy in the week days. I
am kind of glad that our wedding is on the weekend.
I got out of the bed and went to the washroom and got freshened. I came out of the washroom and
heard the door knock. "Juni, I got your wedding dress. Open the door." I heard sis say.
I sighed and opened the door, finding sis looking excited and she was holding my wedding dress.
Even though, I went with her to choose the wedding dress, I really didn't pay any attention when sis
was choosing my wedding dress. I mean, we are only getting married because of the twins and I
never even wanted to get married. So, why would I have any interest in choosing my wedding
dress?
I let sis come in my room and she hugged me and then pushed me in the washroom, giving me my
wedding dress.
"Juni, get dress so that we can do your make up." Sis said. I sighed and wore my wedding dress that
was silver and it was a mermaid wedding dress style.
After a couple of hours . . .
"Don't open your eyes yet," I heard my makeup artist say. She was doing my eye make–up, while
some other hair dresser was doing my hair. "Now, slowly open your eyes." My makeup artist said.
I opened my eyes and looked at the mirror they placed in front of me and I couldn't believe my eyes.
I was wearing a simple mermaid silver wedding dress, a bit of make–up and my long hair was tied
in a simple bun. I was wearing a silver necklace and a pair of long silver earrings. I couldn't believe
that I looked that pretty.
"My Juni looks beautiful." Sis said as she hugged me. She had waters in her eyes.
I turned around and whipped her tears. "Sis? Why are you crying?"
"I am really happy for you. I'm happy that you are getting married but I always thought of you as my
own sister. I will be so lonely without you in this house. I will miss you." Sis said as she hugged me.
"I will miss you too." I said as I hugged her back.
Big brother came in the room with Clara and hugged me and kissed my forehead. "My

Police Procedurals In The Echo Park
The Interference of the personal with the professional: Michael Connelly's The Echo Park Michael
Connelly's The Echo Park is the twelfth book in the police procedural series featuring Los Angeles
detective 'Hieronymus' Harry Bosch. Police procedurals as the name suggests highlight the workings
of the methodology in the police department and the position of the investigator as an official
functioning within the procedures of this system. Although, the position of an official within the
Police Establishment privileges the investigator, it also acts as a constraint. In police procedurals,
the institution acts as an authoritative figure that restricts, and it shows the conflict within the self,
where the police official, who functions as the detective, is torn between the individual sense of
justice ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Dove says that police procedurals feature a special kind of channel, wherein the inter–
communication between the departments takes on an unauthorized turn with the investigator having
a personal friend strategically located in a position to supply accurate information away from the
official record (58). In The Echo Park, Rachael Walling is an FBI agent, where her involvement with
the Gesto case comes only through her relationship with Bosch. In fact, the case is supposed to be
under the confidentiality of a few members and the interference of the FBI is a strict prohibition.
She helps him do the psychological analysis of Waits and she uses her influence to bring out the
juvenile file of Waits from the DCFS office without the court order. She is also the love interest of
Bosch. Apart from the personal relationship, throughout the novel both of them work as partners to
solve the mystery. Being secluded from his department, because of 'home duty', which in simpler
terms means temporary suspension, Walling is the only person who supports him to continue with
the case. In terms of both personal and professional support, she is the only person Bosch can reach

Descriptive Essay : ' Take A Deep Breath '
Take a Deep Breath The ocean waves pounded the sand and slithered up to Cameryn's feet. She
bounded into the surf, each leap bringing the water deeper, to her knees, to her thighs, to her hips.
Finally another breaker knocked her off her feet. She fell, laughing, and enjoyed the coolness of the
water on her hot skin. Just as her feet found the sand again another wave crashed on her head and
hammered her below the surface. She barely had time to grab a breath before the water closed over
her. She tumbled and rolled beneath the waves. Which way was up? She was running out of air.
Finally, she couldn't hold her breath any longer, and her lungs sucked in the seawater. But she didn't
choke. She didn't feel faint. Her head cleared, and she opened her eyes. She saw the sand beneath
her, and the legs of other swimmers kicking below the surface. She exhaled the water from her
lungs, and automatically sucked in another breath. It didn't hurt. In fact, she felt fine, perfectly fine.
I'm breathing underwater! This is so weird! She swam a little farther out, past the waves that were
breaking above her, to where the water was calm and the sea floor dropped away. Cameryn could
see schools of fish, rock formations, even what looked like a long buried object sticking out of the
sand. I could stay down here for hours, she thought, as she spotted something huge in the distance.
She decided to swim towards it, she was always a curious one, sometimes causing her curiousness to
be a hamartia

The Effects Of My Life
The dull lights cast gloomy shadows over the mouldy creased tent as the smell of dirt and mud
lingered through the frosty air. Off in the far distance, we all heard the disturbing crunch echoing in
the quite of the night. For a few seconds, only silence prevailed, while we remained still; our feet
sinking deeper into the mud anxiously anticipating another sound to be heard. Instead, only
resounding silence followed.
Memories of a similar day echoed through my head, fifteen years ago exactly to the day.
Recollections spun round my head, flashbacks of my trembling fourteen year old self walking into a
tent unlike the one I was currently in. Images tumbled through my mind, one with less mould, less
creases. The memories of the smell of mints ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
I picked up my bag. The leather straps feeling coarse underneath the rough skin of my hands, you
could tell they were the hands of a manual labourer. The doors to the waiting room loomed ahead,
the first sight of anything that brought a smile to my face. Adrenaline rush filled me as I barged past
all the familiar faces, reminding me of times back on the field. A group of family members walked
around the corner. Anxiously I waited. The memories of my youngest brothers smile. How old
would he be now? Would he remember me? The thought of it brought a smile to my face as I sat
with luggage in hand. I took out the gold time–piece my father gave me before I left for service.
Flipping it thrice in my hands. Fifteen years old, the condition as good as new, apart from a small
chip on the circumference between the twelve and the one. One long strand of a golden chain
hanging loose and collecting itself in the palm of my left hand. It was a familiar comforting weight.
The only possession that I really counted as mine.
"The cabs pulled up outside the doorway waiting for you, come out when you're ready."
Feelings of expectation and nervousness on meeting my family again flooded every nerve in my
body, as I continued to sit and watch others before me. I was one of the lucky ones. Lucky to be
intact? Or lucky to return at all. Those that were not so lucky wobbled through the door on crutches,
with missing limbs as lasting mementos to

Creative Writing: Juvenile Hall For Murders
In my state it doesn't matter if you're 16 or 21 you kill a man, you go to prison there's no juvenile
hall for murders
3 years ago........
Zeke P.O.V
I walked across the empty street rain hitting the fabric of my leather jacket my hands buried in the
pockets. A gunshot rang I jumped I should have been used to it by now but that sound still gets to
me. I jogged up the stairs passing by two men about in their 40s staring at me.
"Hey Zeke is ya ma still working at that strip club" he snickers
"Hey I'll go waste a few bucks to see her dance" the other said I clenched my hands into fists. It took
all my strength not to turn around and sock the both in the mouth. I shook the thought out of my
mind and I unlocked my apartment door and walked ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
He walked me to the front room. The lady at the counter handed me the clothes I came in with 3
years ago, I would have been in longer but I kept doing my school work, I never got in trouble and I
was still a kid. I looked at them and went to the bathroom throwing them on. The t–shirt was too
small so I through the sweatshirt on it was tight but not tight enough to where it still fit. I took of the
dark blue plants they made us where and slipped on the sweat pants leaving the restroom and
throwing the clothes in the basket out of the

Meeting in the Woods
"Where have you been?" he asks in a calm manner. I motion towards the woods behind me. "What
were you doing in the woods", he asks, raising his eyebrow. "Thinking", I say, wanting to get off the
subject. "About what?" I glare at him, catching on to his game. "About you", I say sarcastically.
"Oh, really? I'm flattered", he says in a flamboyant voice while fluttering his eyelashes. "You should
be. I don't just think about any guy", I joke. "Well, it's a pleasure to be thought about", he says,
opening my door for me. He puts his hands around my waist, causing a fire to erupt in my body. He
picks me up easily, like I weigh nothing and slides me into the truck, pulling my seat belt and
buckling me in, before shutting the door and climbing in on the other side. "So, why do you have
such a big truck?" I ask, cocking my head in a questioning manner. "It's a custom truck. It's made to
fit my frame cause I'm such a big guy", he explains. I wrinkle my nose looking at him. "Not like
that", he chuckles. "Oh." I immediately feel my cheeks burning red. "So how big are you?" I ask. He
smirks at me. "No not like that!" I yell at him. "Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant how tall are
you?" "You're the one who brought it up. I'm 6"7." He's still smirking as I look at him with wide
eyes. "You're that tall!" I screech, hearing him chuckle again. I turn in my seat to look at him better.
"I can't believe that", I mutter under my breath. "I don't see what's not to believe. I'm

My Hero As A Hero : My Grandfather
In the endless sea, he is a lighthouse, guiding me to the right course; in the dark night, he is a star,
with me to meet the joy of every day. And he is my idol – my dear grandfather. My grandfather died
in his 75 years old, in childhood time, most of the time he was with me, he was very concerned
about me, but also taught me a lot of lessons, let me grow, I am very thankful for my grandfather. I
remembered that in the second grade, the school was far away from home. My parents were going to
work, so my grandpa took the responsibility of sending me to school. Every morning, after
breakfast, my grandpa's used his bikes to sent me to school, and he took me back in the afternoon.
And then sent me to school again in the afternoon and picked me at night. So many times, grandpa
appeared on the school gate on time every day. At that time, I just needed to study and learn, and my
grandpa was prepared the delicious food at home. So far I remembered, that day, out of the window
of the white, the wind was like a whip on the street. At seven o'clock, we started going out. The
white bicycle seems to have been integrated with the road, and only my grandfather and I was
marching along the road. The wind was so strong that the bicycle was constantly blowing on the
slippery surface of the road. My grandfather and I, thought wearing a raincoat, could only stand in
the snow, and the wind was flowing in the raincoats, and my hands were red. "Tingting, are you
cold?" Grandpa asked me. "It's okay, the hand is a bit cold." I rubbed my hands on the side while
answering. "Put your hand in between of my sweater and coat, you hands will be warmer." Grandpa
said. I thought this is a good way, then pull open the coat, the two hands into it, grandfather's body
was trembled. And now remembered, perhaps when I pull open the coat of the grandfather too
careless. The cold wind got into the grandfather's body, and my hand was like ice, very cold. I was
regret that I did not hesitate to extend my hand into the grandfather's coat. Then my hands warmed
up and I hid my whole body behind grandpa's back, and grandpa's back was like a mountain
covering the wind and blocking the rain. My whole body was warm all over.

Echo And Namparisus : The Story Of Echo And Narcissus
Echo and Narcissus
Echo and Narcissus is a story about two people who died young because of their bad habits or their
pickiness. Echo's worst flaw was that she was a big chatter box, while Narcissus was a picky person
who thought that no one deserved to be with him and that no one was good enough.
The story of Echo and Narcissus is that Echo was a young beautiful mountain Nymph who was
known to be a bit of a chatterbox. Zeus, the King of the Olympian gods, had numerous love affairs
with all kings of women, his wife Hera Queen of the Olympians had no idea of this. One day Echo
was talking to Hera and while Echo was chattering to Hera, Zeus went out and fooled around with
some of the mountain Nymphs. Hera then finally noticed this and was furious, but she knew better
than to start a war with Zeus, so she took her anger out on Echo. Hera assumed that because Echo
was distracting her with chatter, Echo must of had something going on with Zeus, so therefore she
must be punished by that (myths.e2bn.org).
Echo knew that her and Zeus had nothing going on between them, though of course Hera did not
believe that and went on ahead and punished her. To punish Echo, Hera took away something that
was very valuable to Echo, her voice. Echo could only reply of what was said to her, pretty much all
she could do was mimic the words of another person. In Thespia a vain boy lived by the name of
Narcissus, he was the son of the blue Nymph, Leiriope. Leiriope was seduced by the God of River,

Katink A Narrative Fiction
"Nyna, I don't know about this. The garden has been off limits since the incident with the Prince.
What happens if that happens to us?" Nyna held my hand, leading me into the back garden of the
castle. Leaving me with a view of the back of her blonde head. "Kat, aren't you supposed to follow
my every wish?" She turned around, letting go of my hand to walk backwards to talk to me. "I may
be your servant inside the castle, but in private I'm so much more." I gave her a sly smile. "But that
doesn't mean I think this okay" Nyna rolled her lovely blue eyes. "My brother is a drunk. Do you
really think there are Shadows in the garden? That was probably just him covering his ass for getting
beat or something." "Whether it's true or not, it's still off ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
I heard her scream, but I was only focused on the looming sense of lost hope. It made my shoulders
heavy and my head tired. I wanted to lay down on the dying grass and sleep for the rest of eternity.
The darkness heavy around me. I heard Nyna scream in the distance again. It wasn't important,
nothing was. "Katinka." A dark figure could be seen. When it came into focus I saw a mutilated,
burned body reaching out from me. Mother. I shrank back, shaking the tiredness from my body,
replacing it with cold fear. "No," I whispered, my hands coming to my mouth. My mother's body.
My poor, beautiful, mother, who was unjustly raped then burned, haunted my dreams most nights. I
would wake up in cold sweat, tears streaming down my cheeks, but this wasn't a dream. I couldn't
wake up. A voice in the back of my head was screaming, "Shadows! It's not real! It's not mother!
Call light, call something." My body ignored it, my conscious ignored it. My mother's body was
moving closer to me, and with each step I took one away. "You let this happen, Katinka. You let that
man in the house. You let him do this to me." "I'm sorry," I cried out. "Im sorry momma, Im

The Story Of The Movie ' Lucy And I Were Up Front '
Everything was going great on our way home our two week long mission. Lucy and I were up front,
talking side by side about the new addition of Sorcerer Magazine while Natsu and Gray walked
behind us. They were bickering once more about something that I didn 't bother to pay any attention
to. And Happy was most likely walking besides them. Happy wasn 't to happy with me at the
moment, as I had stepped on his tail by accident while trying to help out Natsu take down a monster.
No matter how many apologize nor the amount of fish offered would let the little guy glance in my
direction. We were only a few minutes from getting back to the guild. "We 're only a few moments
away from getting back to the guild after being away for a whole week and you haven 't injured
yourself." Lucy placed her hand on my shoulder, congratulating me on the victory of my lack of
clumsiness during our mission. "You somehow always manage to harm yourself." "I guess you 're
right," I said sheepishly, running a hand threw my knotted hair. Even if I tripped over myself I
would somehow end up with a sprained ankle or a conclusion. I 've had countless encounters of
stumping down staircases, and knocking into chairs at the guild. I guess you could say I lack a
perfect balanced to even walk in a straight line. Lucy spoke too soon. While we were heading down
a flight of stairs Natsu and Gray 's bickering turned into a full on fight with pushing and shoving. To
put the story short, Gray bonked

Minerva, The Hero of In the Time of the Butterflies by...
A hero is person, typically a man, who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding
achievements, or noble qualities. I'm going to tell you about a book called in the time of the
butterflies by Julia Alvarez. It is about 3 sisters who lose their life trying to stand up for watch was
right. One sister survived and lives to tell the story. There is a lot of great reasons why all three of
the sister are heroes but I'm going to tell you about only one. That sister is Minerva. Their is 3 great
reasons why Minerva is a hero. Minerva stood up for Sinita by lying to El jefe. She also slapped El
jefe when he tried to touch her somewhere she didn't want to be touched. The last reason is she took
a chance for her life to get her father out of ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
Mierva said "He yanks me by the wrist, thrusting his pelvis at me in a vulgar way." (Alvarez 65). He
was treating her unladylike like. Trujillo is not a nice man and should not be the leader of a country.
Minerva is a great women and is really appreciated in her city. Minerva took the chance of giving
her life up for the life of her father. Minerva stated "I shake my dice in my hand for all they're
worth" (Alvarez 76). She was rolling a dice to see if her dad could get out of jail because Trujillo put
him there as punishment for Minerva slapping him. Minerva stated "He strokes the cheek I slapped."
(Alvarez 76). He refers to when he got slapped him at the dance. Minerva was the one who slapped
him and felt very sorry. Minerva stated "So, it's just IN THE TIME OF BUTTERFLIES. !2 me,
mama, and patria, and of course papa". ( Alvarez 76). It shows that papa has been let out of jail.
Minerva is very thankful to Trujillo for being a man of his word and letting her papa out of jail.
Minerva is very special because she was going to be one the first women in history to go to Law
School. Minerva saved a friend, slapped El Jefe, and saved her dad. All three of these in why I think
Minerva is a hero and everyone else should to. Let's not forget she also died for her country standing
up for what she believe in. Which was the right thing for not only her but her whole country. She is a
role model for little girls everywhere. But she is not the only person who died while thing

The Once Open And Airy Plane Of Earth Now
The once open and airy plane of Earth now stood boxed in. Evolved into what our modern day
society called 'utopia'. Skyscrapers littered the sky. Not a single piece of dirt was left showing
amongst the concrete blocks and buildings. Cars drove themselves, and buildings were constructed
in hours rather than months. The once true utopia of Earth now taken over by human greed. Of
course I couldn't say anything against it. I was born and raised in this world. Never seeing the lush
green trees that lined the horizon. The deep blue ocean, lapping up at the golden beaches. My world
was grey and mundane, full of robots, androids, and A.I's. And just like the rest of us, they lived up
to the meaning of their names. Slaves. But I had my own. It ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
The bubbles danced and diffused into the milky brown mixture. Some spread clinging to the sides
for life. "What is it?" I asked, shuffling uncomfortably. "Ma'am. I'm not like the other robots..." I
stood in horror as he explained everything. Watching as my glass box of a world came shattering
around me. Shards cutting and slicing into me. My prospect was changed completely. "I'm sorry
Kate..." He used my name. It was almost soothing. Before I could answer there was a loud and
abrupt knock on the door. The sound resounded throughout the apartment, followed swiftly by a
robots voice. "You are in violation of code 337. Penalties are in effect. Will you comply? Their voice
was like nails on a blackboard. It was painful. "Ma'am. Behind me, now!" Sunny pulled me behind
him. Making sure that he would be fist to go down. "My master is not home currently, She's gone
out" "Where?" The other robot responded. "I'm unsure. I was updating and when I had completed
she was gone. May I inquire to what she has done to violate code 337?" He sounded polite and kind,
even though we were both in danger. He never got an answer. We could hear the slight mumblings
behind the door, but nothing else. Suddenly there was a click. As if their guns were being loaded.
My heart jumped to my throat and that bubble of terror swelled. My hands clung to Sunny. Gripping
at his bare mechanics. He seemed to be the only sense of security. Fist there was a loud crash, as

Descriptive Essay About Dark Sun
Dark Sun He was my sun, my shining beam of light, my shining ray that warms me to an extent, that
doesn't seem achievable to man. His gentle, and sympathetic words, inspired me, and constructed
me, he was perfect. My world was sparkling, and colorful, it was sugar–coated, and honey–slathered
with compliments, inspiration, encouragement. I knew I could rely on him, He was, to me a soft
teddy bear, you could snuggle anytime you wanted, or needed. I adored him, I cared for him, more
than a child warmly loves their parents. Who am I speaking of, you might ask? Who's the knight in
shining armor i'm speaking so highly of? Of course, my dear older brother. He was all I ever wanted,
and needed, more than I would deserve. I lived like a carefree princess, until, that, came to a
sputtering stop. I never thought of him the same way. It was a tranquil day, in my cozy household. I
was listening to the mellow, and soft sound of the faint cracking of my ignited fireplace. The smell
of cherry– like oak, mixed with buttery, pumpkin spiced bread stuffed the air. I was snug in a wool
blanket, my fingers heated on a hearty chunk of a toasted loaf. I was blissfully plucking tiny chunks,
and chewing it with glee. Awaiting my big sibling to arrive from home, I was jumpy, and impatient.
*Creak, bmph* My ears perked up, and I quickly dived out of my comfort area. My eyes darted to
glare at the door, which was obviously being opened. A tiny crack appeared, and my ears

Echo 550
Echo 550 and Acoustic Liquid Handling Technology
High throughput screening (HTS) is essential in the process of finding a potential drug candidate,
and automation is key for a good screen both in terms of robustness and reproducibility.
Since the day I joined Perlara, I kept hearing about the Echo machine on one of our benches back
there but it is only a couple of weeks back that I actually got to learn and use it. I knew that the Echo
550 from Labcyte Inc. was one of the most prized possession of Perlara's automation pathway. I was
truly amazed at the fact that it transfers small amounts of compounds from our drug library source
plates on to destination plates using sound energy. It was fascinating that the transfer was made
without any physical ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
ADE can be used to transfer a range of solvents with viscosity ranging from 0.3 to 10 centipoise.
The technology is also capable of working with volatile liquids such as ethanol and acetone which
have low viscosity and surface tension. The ADE technology can effectively transfer a range of
solvents with varying viscosity effectively with low coefficient of variation (CV). The CV is as low
as <8% when the plate has unknown water and/or DMSO compositions. Since transfer by ADE
technology does not involve any physical contact, it minimizes the risk of contamination and/or
cross–contamination. This technology also proves to be cost–effective in the long run because it
does not involve the use of pipette tips. In conclusion, the Echo 550 using ADE technology is a very
effective tool in the drug screening automation

Descriptive Essay
Everyone is born with something called a soulmark; a special identifying mark, that leads a person
to their soulmate, their perfect match. Most people find their soulmate before they're eighteen. And
that's what terrifies me. I'm Shoyou Hinata and almost eighteen years old. My parents found each
other with timers, that counted down to when they would meet, when they were ten years old. All of
my friends found their soulmates in elementary and middle school. The only person I know who
hasn't met their soulmate yet, is me. Sighing, I cover my eyes and try to ignore the massive
soulmark, that centers on my back and takes up the majority of my body. I can't push the tattoo–
esque features out of my mind and find myself looking back to my reflection in the mirror.
Unbloomed crimson flowers are scattered everywhere on my pale white skin. Vines with dark green
leaves and tiny buds wrap around my arms and curl around my hips, furling onto my thighs. I hate
it. People assume because I have such a large soulmark, that I've already met my soulmate; It's
stupid. When health teachers get to the soulmark unit in class every year, they alway ask for
examples. They always ask me for examples. I ruffle my orange curly hair with my hand and lick
my lips. My flushed face relaxes as I leave the bathroom to put on my black school uniform. I've
gotta stop thinking about stuff, that winds me up in the morning. It can't be healthy to get upset in
the morning.
"Shoyou!" I turn around to see

Creative Writing: The Wraithers
A cool breeze runs over my skin, relieving me from the heat. I kneel, plucking wildflowers from the
thick grass. Veida stares out into the mountains, her hair, as black as night, flowing in the wind and
shining in the sunlight. Squinting my eyes against the light, I stare up at her face, covered by the
ivory mask.
"You know, when I was little I lived in a city in Daiash called Sh'ferte. Nobody knew why or how,
but the skies were always pitch black. The sun still shone, but instead of blue, the skies were dark
for miles." She mutters, staring out on the lake. "When I moved down to Amet, the skies followed
me. That was when I realized that I was the problem. That was also when everyone else realized it
too... That I was special. Sometimes I can control it, other times I can't."
I move closer to her, and hand her a small bouquet of flowers that I gathered for her. Her delicate ...
Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
I swear– just let me explain." She stutters urgently.
I let out a deep breath, You're a Wraither?
Wraithers are a group of... May I say... Terrorists... Or soldiers for The Wraither Corps. They belong
to an alliance called The Salvation, where murder and sacrifice are used to take over Ethana. Each
elite member is branded on the left side of the face with a burning hot chainlink pattern, which
happens to be burnt into Veida's face.
Her words pour out of her mouth, "My real name is Aveieda LaRoche, but I still go by Veida. My
parents were Wraithers for The Salvation. They died when I was ten, and I was immediately put into
The Salvation's custody. When I was fifteen, I was initiated. I was the Supreme Leader's favorite, so
I blew quickly through ranks. When I was barely sixteen, I was initiated as a Wraither, then the
Wraither Commander shortly after. Just last year... The Wraithers started getting worse... Killing
children and infants. I just... I couldn't handle it anymore. I was about to snap. So I went to the
Supreme Leader and told him that I wanted to

Narcissus Theme
Imagine having everything you have always wanted. With these items, you no longer have the
feeling of envy, but you start to feel superior to others. Vanity is showing extreme adoration for
one's items and self–worth. Throughout the passages, Narcissus and Echo from Ovid's
Metamorphoses retold by Roger Lancelyn Green and The Tale of the Three Brothers by J.K.
Rowling, many of the characters struggle to resist the forces of excessive pride. The recurring theme
shared between both passages is, "Although having pride is a part of life, one should not let it turn
into a vanity." This message is shown through the setting, characters, and events of both stories.
Primarily, the setting of both stories highlights the theme. The story Narcissus and ... Show more
content on Helpwriting.net ...
Narcissus and Echo begins with Echo being cursed by Hera due to her constant talking. When she
sees Narcissus, the son of a nymph, and falls in love with him, the curse prevents her from talking to
him. However, when Narcissus becomes lost in the woods and calls for who is hiding she comes
out. Through his cruel actions and his impure heart, Hera cursed him with self–love. Green writes,
"He could not leave the pool, but lay by its side day after day looking at the only face in the world
which he loved–and could not win... 'Woe is me for I loved in vain!' he cried." (Green, 4) This
shows that he is aware of his self–love, yet he cannot look away. In The Tale of the Three Brothers,
the three wizards evaded drowning in the river. This bothers Death, however, he rewards the three
brothers. Out of greed and adoration for their achievement, the older two brothers asked for gifts
that could possibly cause trouble in the end. On the other hand, the youngest brother was smart not
to trust Death and asked for a gift that would prevent death from following him. The two oldest
brothers died very early because of their gifts, while the youngest one benefitted from his gift and
lived till old age. Comparably, both stories had events that showed characters falling into the trap of

Qualities of Heros in In the Time of the Butterflies by...
How would you determine if some one was a hero or not? What characteristics would they obtain?
Do you think you have hero–like qualities? The Maribal sisters are three young girls who start an
underground revolution against their very own dictator. This revolution is still remembered today.
They realized the man Trujillo was not who he said he was or who he wanted to be viewed as. The
group in the underground revolution were known as The butterflies. One
Maribal sister, named Minerva was who I believe to be the true hero in the history of this event.
She was responsible, stood up to Trujillo, and followed her dreams to go to college and obtain a law
degree.
Minerva was a responsible young lady. "... I asked papa if I could go along." P.12 ... Show more
content on Helpwriting.net ...
66 here Minerva questions Trujillo to his face while all other girls just agree with him and whatever
he may have to say. Yet again showing her string personality. "He yanks me by my wrist, thrusting
his pelvis at me in a vulgar way, and I can see my hand in an endless slow motion rise–all mind of
its own– and come down on the astonished, made–up face" P. 67 in this situation,
Trujillo invades Minerva's personal space and she slaps him because she knows who he truly is.
Minerva stands up to him and does not let Trujillo treat her like the rest of the girls.
Minerva is in no way a push–over. This is hero–like quality to have, she stands up for what she
believes is right and will also go to the next level to do the things she wants to do. Minerva made it
possible for herself to go to college and get a law degree. "I want to go the university......I've always
wanted to study law." P.65 Minerva tells Trujillo about her wanting to study law, a trait that not
many people think of women to do in these days. "I'm not interested in admirers until I have my law
degree." P.66 Minerva explains to Trujillo that her law degree is more important to her than other
things. She shows that she doesn't need or want a thing to do with him or anything that comes
between her law degree. "Minerva insists, though, that I give law a chance." P. 87 Minerva is
perusing her dream of getting a law degree and explains to her sister that it would be good to invest
in. The way that Minerva

Winged Me Narrative
The scent of salt water tickles my nose as I enter the small town of Kiros. I smile, it's good to revisit
the town I grew up in. I've been living in the ... unique servants corridors of the Swinfield Manor.
However, weeks ago I left and I hope never to return. My town has a humble population but today
the place is mobbed with people. They've all come for the festival, but I have come for different
reason. To meet the woman with the wings, to kill the woman who ended my father. I've been
planning her death for weeks and I know I'll enjoy the satisfaction of killing the one who cursed me
and ripped my life into thousands of tiny shreds. The crisp, sweet scented air pushes my auburn hair
into my eyes as I make my way to the crumbling alleys and ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
So, as she flys forward to attack once more, I throw my hands up creating spikes of darkness. The
darkness pushes through the light solidifying around me. The Winged One has no time to stop or
slow so she flies forward to the spikes protecting. One of them stabs straight through her left wing.
The woman lets out a bloodcurdling cry then is as limp as a rag doll.
After the staff of darkness skewers her wing I release it and the darkness dissipates. The one that has
wings falls to the ground with a sickening thunk and doesn't rise.
Adrenaline courses through me as I cautiously move towards her. Her body lies limp and lifeless. A
pool of grey–red blood darkness the ground around her. I nudge her gently with my foot. "Are you
dead?" I whisper. No answer. I flip her over with my boot and find that her chest isn't rising and
falling. She isn't breathing. She is dead.
A mixture of emotions roar inside me. Joy that the witch is finally dead. The one who killed my
father is finally gone. Then ... sadness. I killed a person I don't even know the name of. I killed
someone. This is the first person I've ever killed. I just hope I won't have to

A Story Of A Short Story
"I can't breathe," my friend whispered, blinking tears from her glossy eyes. I clenched my dirt
ridden hands, feeling the sweat begin to streak down my forehead as I tried to find the words that
could magically fix this mess. I couldn't find any. It was crowded on the barren field, the air hot and
sticky, as the cicadas sang their shrill songs from the oak trees. Screams and whooping of children
tore through the muggy air like chaotic waves, each voice overlapping the others into gibberish.
Councilors were sprinkled among the cluster of kids, trying in vain to keep them still for more than
3 minutes. I watched from afar from the rough asphalt, entertained by my messy creation of dirt and
rocks. Glancing behind me I stared longingly at the air–conditioned elementary school, wanting
"outdoor fun" to be over already. "Allie..." I jumped in my skin, startled, my hand hitting the dirt
castle I was working on causing it to become distorted it beyond repair. With a childish squeak I
turned to face a pallid and nervous–looking girl. It was Abby. Abby was my only friend at the
summer program, our bond formed over sharing her ice cream when mine fell on the floor of the
gymnasium the first day of camp. Abby was timid and rather easy to get along with, her soft eyes
and quite voice complementing her tiny form. "Oh hey! Where did you go?" Her gazed dropped to
the ground, "I was in the bathroom....Can you come here for a second?" I nodded, jumping to my
feet, my dusting my

Year 11 Creative Writing

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