You Want This

Watari, why are you two here?” “I wanted to hang out and Watari said that he didn’t have anything else to do, so I dragged him over,” the small girl at the door said, a large grin plastered onto her face as her eyes sparkled. “Not true, I came because I wanted to,” the other friend, Watari, pouted. “Kousei, I made Watari come with us so don’t let him tell you some lie,” said Tsubaki with confidence. A flash of pink went across the front window, forcing…

Liverpool/Dublin Journal 2: A Curious Man Teaches Me Skepticism I was in the People’s Museum in Manchester perusing the struggles of the people when, a older gentleman approaches our group. He had a younger companion accompanying him. This man sported a Carolina Panthers t-shirt. He was rather tall, and a distinctly British accent. Once he inserted himself into our conversation he proceeded to tell his life story, about how we worked for a time in Texas. He went on to describe how he wanted to…

Tuesday, 11:30 a.m. The way Chance saw it escape was futile. “Look, we’re tied up.” He walked over to a window and glanced down. “And we’re on the third floor. Unless you’re suggesting we hurl ourselves through the glass and dive to our deaths. Besides, this place is infested with guards.” I realized he was right. Men were prowling like packs of wild hyenas, lurking in the shadows, waiting to devour us whole. “If we did manage to flee, which is impossible, they’d find us in no time and that…

tapering tale and the delicate point to her ears. Even the fine lines of her skin were more flowing and organic rather than scaly. “Jamie, Hawking,” Marisol said once we in the library. “This is my gargoyle.” The little lizard held her thee-fingered paw out. It reminded me of a chameleon claw. “Prisisima, but you may call me Pris.” As if we were sharing social introductions at an informal party, I took her paw…

William Shakespeare, the author of many famous plays and sonnets, once said, “Have more than you show, speak less than you than you know.” If this is the case then many people won’t be saying anything after trying to understand original Shakespearean writings. Thankfully for those people, there have been many more modern adaptations that are easier to read and understand. The English III class read through “The Tempest” by William Shakespeare. The three different version that were analyzed were…

the chief said. “I want to remind you that discretion is essential under the circumstances. Otherwise, this ghost thing could turn into a real media freak show.” “You got it, Chief,” Dad agreed. “Our conversation is strictly off the record.” He was a reporter for the Covert Times and a wannabe TV sports anchor with a stack of applications to prove it. “Thanks.” Chizelmen’s SUV squealed around a corner. “Were you at Willaston last night, Madison?” “Yes,” I said.…

the surface of what I’m truly feeling. This blog is something very emotional for me to write, so please try to hang with me because some of what I say may be a tad scattered. Those of you who are sensitive may possibly need tissues (shoutout to grandma!) So here we go, take a deep breath and keep reading. I’m struggling. So hard that it hurts. I can’t even explain half of the feelings that are twisting and turning inside of my heart right now. If you know me you know that my emotions are all on…

to see you,” she says, and invites me into the foyer. “How are you?” “I’m not sure. It’s been a crazy day.” “There’s roast chicken with tarragon in the oven,” she says, “I’d love for you to join me for an early dinner.” “Thanks.” We walk into the kitchen. The smell of food comforts me. She nods for me to sit, and arranges another place setting. “Do you enjoy cooking for yourself?” I ask. “I do, cooking became my new passion, once I gave up sex.” I chuckle. “I understand. It gives you what…

Have you ever been forced into something that you absolutely would have never done if you didn’t have to? This fear became my reality last Sunday. For the first time in my eighteen years of my life I stepped foot into a church. I choose a local church for this experience called The First Reformed Church. The address to this Christian church is 5387 W State Road 10, Wheatfield, IN 46392. In this essay I’ll be explaining how this experience has changed me as a person and the things I witnessed…

their message. I chose this church because I have a grandmother who attends here and I felt comfortable to have someone I knew guide me. My initial thoughts prior to visiting this church was the same as the other churches I had visited before. I expected to walk in and sit down with no one really paying much attention to me. I was also prepared to be looked upon as less than the regular visiting church members. I also was very nervous because I am not very religious and did not want to be…