Change_Faith, Untranslated_LOST TEENAGE MIND_Good Friday’s Children
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Change
CHANGEThe bartender finished tending to the customer at the end of the bar and ambled back, a dish towel draped over his left shoulder. “So, Andy, you out slumming tonight, or what? No hot date?” Andrew winced. He didn’t like the name Andy but gave Sam a pass since the bar was his frequent refuge. He looked down, concentrating on standing a quarter on its edge. Fortunately, the bar’s surface was somewhat level and the quarter new. It joined its two upright companions. “Yeah, Sam, taking a break. Recharging the ol’ batteries, so to speak.” Andrew attempted a smile at the affable, pot-bellied in...
Faith, Untranslated
The shade grew with the sun. Under the big thick leaves, it became something solid. The line between insistent energy and gentle dark turwww.onedoor.ccned bold. I lay with her on the grass, exhausted. Dry tears hung in my eyes like long evaporated dew. She held my hand, squeezing it tight. We didn't want to look at the sun. We didn't want to move into the shade. We wanted to be free.She still wore a sweater, despite the heat. It had been cold that morning. But the bright afternoon sun had burned away the fragile cool. We had lingered until the hours and clouds had dissipated. I asked her If she was hot. She...
LOST TEENAGE MIND
"Are you coming tonight?” A text message popping out of my notification bar from my friend, Julie, inviting me over to her house for the planned sleepover. Taking a pause, second-guessing my world, I doubt going to her place tonight. “Sorry, can’t”, I replied, as my social battery ran out for today. Rolling over my bed as another message arrive. “Oh okay, something wrong? That is seemingly cold of your reply.” She wonders for why I am no longer a social butterfly, little did they know, it was never I. Thinking to what I am going to say as my eyes slowly closing, I am already sleeping, leaving ...
Good Friday’s Children
Write about a child witnessing a major historical event.Good Friday’s Children My name is Patrick Sweeney. I was born on Good Friday 1998、 Sometimes I wonder if it was a good Friday. In Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer Huck remembers that it’s Friday, an ‘unlucky’ day, and they put off treasure-hunting until later. Sometimes I wish I had been born on a Sunday because ‘the child who is born on the Sabbath Day is bonny and blithe and good and gay’.A funny thing happened today. Our English teacher was filling in our pink forms to enter us for the GCSE English examination and she exclaimed, ‘Gosh, I had no...