Essays on Creative Writing
Love By Way Of Chance
... like personalities or
characteristics in common. Some people might not like a stupid, fat, or
repulsive looking mate, but I feel it shouldn't depend on physical
appearances. Affection should be based on what's in the heart and possibly
the brain. The way I see it falling in love by way of chance is the most
beautiful feeling in the world.
Love by choice, especially not yours, is a horrible way to live a life.
It's hard for the one who didn't have the choice. If one has to pick their
husband or wife it should not depend on their money status or their
popularity, it should be a careful decision that will make one happy for
the rest of their life. A good exam ...
Creative Writing: Spawn
... over a bench stood a man. An old man,
gnarled with age and working on an intricate machine. To a mortal man the sight
would appear ludicrous. An old, befuddled man could hardly attract the attention
of such a powerful warrior. But to the spawns eyes, he only saw the truth.
He didn't see the lines of age which covered the man's face. Nor did he see
the disfigured spine which pushed the man's back into a painful composure. But
he did see the beast within.
To the spawn, what stood in the other room had no dimensions, it glittered
with a warrior's sweat and had an evil which protruded off its hide like
poisonous spines. This creature had roamed the aeo ...
Creative Story: In Short
... Every inch of my life was put under a big magnifying glass. Every mistake I
made in the last fourteen years was read bunch of know-nothings who sit and
pretend to run a hospital. The mistakes weren't very frequent, at least, not
until I started to drink.
I suppose you want to know the reason I started to drink. Well, I mess
up big time during a triple bypass and killed a patient. That's when the
drinking started and the drinking lead to the death of another patient. Now I
drink even more and remember even less which means its working.
About a month ago I left England, which is where I worked, and moved
here to a small fishing island off the coast of France. T ...
Creative Writing: One More Basket
... of the other girls in
her class talking about joining the Moreno Valley Little Pirates basketball
"Hey," Jenny said. "I could join that team and maybe make new
So she went inside and signed up.
A week later she got a call form her new coach. He said practice was
on Tuesday. She was so happy. Now she knew she could make new friends.
That Tuesday she went to practice. It wasn't as she expected. As she
walked in, all the girls started whispering. Jenny didn't have any doubt
what it was about. All the girls started doing lay-ups and before Jenny
knew it, practice was over. Jenny went to practice after practice and soon
Personal Writing: Disaster Hits Village !
... to the storm. When we heard that the storm was over so we went
It was not a pretty sight that waited for us. Almost the whole village was
destroyed. It was only the old houses witch where standing. Fortunately our
house was one of the old solid houses. We started helping the nabours clearing
We thought that everything was over, but no. All of a sudden the ground started
shaking, more and more. I heard someone scream "It's an earthquake". I ran
towards the house, but I never got inside. All of a sudden something fell in my
head, and I passed out. The next thing I now I'm laying in my bed. I get up and
looks out the window. Everything so f ...
Creative Writing: Under The Spell - A Travel Tale By Danny O'brien
... heels, and under the spell of the Emerald Isle.
We had arranged for a rental car, to be picked upon arrival at the harbor. I
thought perhaps we would be shown how to operate it. Instead the attendant said
in his sweet Irish brogue, "It's the wee red one over there," and handed me the
Still dazed by the sudden entrance in to "The Spell" we sped off in our wee red
Ford Fiesta. Every so many hundred yards along the road signs reminded us to
"Drive to the left." On the open road it was no problem, however moments later
in the congestion of Wexford I was near panic, yelling at Travis to help remind
me what side of the street I was on. It didn't help that he ...
Childhood Experience Of Religion Conflicts
... different kinds of people and have learned a new language, which seemed so inspiring to me at that time. In my mind every human being seemed the same and I treated my friends equally. When I got back to my homeland, I couldn't wait to see my old neighborhood friends. It was like a dream come true to be home again. The next day I was able to enroll in the same grade as my friends and I couldn't wait to hang out with them once again. I went to my class and the teacher set me down with an old friend of mine. She didn't even want to look at me. I tried to explain who I was but she stubbornly turned around and whispered something to the person next to her. "What is going ...
Bleeding Ireland And Black America
... of a Naughty by Nature song blaring over my
car radio, “If you have never been to the ghetto, don't ever come to the ghetto,”
as I put in a tape. My thought stream continues as it takes me to another place
where guerrilla warfare and terrorism are a part of daily life.
The gunshots and unruly pitbull barking registers over the calm of the
wet playground. Trash strings the streets and every dwelling has an eight foot,
black, metal fence circuitously about it. Two white faces gape over the hood of
a parked Cadillac. Besides the police parked down the block, they are probably
the only Caucasians in a five mile square radius. Two companies of drug dealers
fire at will ...
Personal Writing: Boot Camp
... When we got off the bus
we were forced to do pushups until nobody could do anymore. We were being
punished for being so loud and insubordinate on the bus. Some people
started crying because they couldn't do any more pushups, but still were
forced to do more.
You are probably asking, why didn't they just stop and refuse to do
the pushups? The answer is because your parents paid a lot of money for
you to go to this program. A fee of about five hundred dollars all
together. That money is for the uniforms, bus ride, reserved tickets for
the bunks, and money needed when on the base.
After that the worn out bus load was escorted to a room with other
Father I Love You
... that people stereo-type Hispanic men to be.
He was the quiet, reserved type. I remember the day we found out he had lung cancer. It was hard for the family to except. It was especially hard for my mother. I was only sixteen years old I did not quite understand what was going on with my father’s health. I saw my father go from a well-built six foot two inch construction worker to a skinny very sick man. My mother pulled me aside one day about a week after we all found out he was terminally ill and explained to me what was going to happen. The next day I went to go see him at the hospital. The minute I saw him I started to cry he grabbed my hand and told me “ ...