Corn flakes

Point Of View Narrative Rough Draft I stared mortified at my sister Connie from the dress shop window. She was leaning up against the wall of the movie house whispering something to her very best friend Betty. Since leaving the house Connie’s appearance had changed dramatically. Leaving home in a presentable pair of shorts and blouse, that had since been modified revealing more of her thigh, her blouse was scantily laid off her shoulder to give her more sex appeal. Brandishing bright pink…

CHAPTER SIX Frozen in Time The next day was hot, so I dashed outside and ambled off down a shady, well worn path that dipped low and circled around the creek which had been dammed up to form a small swimming hole. I climbed up onto a small overhanging dock stretched out my arms, and dove deep into the cool water. I amused myself for a while and treaded water, swam laps, and bobbed around. Then, in the afternoon I marched off on sopping wet, slippery sandals back to the house and ate two peanut…

Molds are multi- or unicellular while yeasts are unicellular in structure. Molds grow in the form of tangled mass called the mycelium which is composed of filamentous hyphae while yeasts are spherical or oval-shaped. Molds are colourful while yeast are colourless. Molds can reproduce through small spores sexually or asexually while yeast reproduce asexually by budding or binary fission through mitosis in which a nucleus is divided into two or more nuclei. Mould can grow on food with low pH…

Within the books Purple HIbiscus and I, Tituba, there are two strong-minded female characters that stick out. Purple Hibiscus is narrated by a little girl, Kambili, who is faced with the consequences of the African colonization. Her father, Eugene, believes that it is his job to ensure his family's descend into heaven after they die which entail physical abuse for his wife and children when they commit a sin. The wife of Eugene, Beatrice, sees the good in her husband and makes the hard decision…

The hermit set out of camp at midnight, carrying his backpack and his bag of break-in tools, and threaded through the forest, rock to root to rock, every step memorized. Not a boot print left behind. It was cold and nearly moonless, a fine night for a raid, so he hiked about an hour to the Pine Tree summer camp, a few dozen cabins spread along the shoreline of North Pond in central Maine. With an expert twist of a screwdriver, he popped open a door of the dining hall and slipped inside, scanning…

He turned a little sideways in his chair to drink his mug of coffee. At the table on his left the man with the strident voice was still talking remorselessly away. A young woman who was perhaps his secretary, and who was sitting with her back to Winston, was listening to him and seemed to be eagerly agreeing with everything that he said. From time to time Winston caught some such remark as 'I think you're so right, I do so agree with you', uttered in a youthful and rather silly feminine voice.…