Coco's Magic Compass and The Mermaid_The Cabin_Breaking the Waves_Type writer
Catalog Guide:
Coco's Magic Compass and The Mermaid
The Paradise People: The soft waves were lashing on the soft sandy shore. From the blue waters emerged an energetic image full of life and a smile which looked like a billion-sun shining! It was Coco who was landing on the golden beach after a fresh swim in the sea!Coco was a smart and naughty little boy who lived by the beautiful beaches and the sparkling blue sea. Where the majestic waves lashed the seashore and created foamy lathers on the fine white sands. It was just pure music to the ears. The climate was bright and sunny all around the year with just a few rainy days. Coco’s home was ne...
The Cabin
The sun’s rays glisten upon the freshly fallen snow that blankets the wilderness where a cabin is amid the trees. Smoke escapes from the chimney as flames lick up the remaining wood in the stone fireplace—the coffee pot spits and whistles as the temperature rises inside the metal can hanging on a hook. Derek pours the black gold in his mug, steam rises, warming his hands, taking a sip, pulls up one of the chairs from the table as he glances up, sees a black bear running toward the cabin. His cup shatters on the floor, spilling the remaining liquid, the rifle steady in his hands, as he swings ...
Breaking the Waves
My head emerges quickly from the waves but is quickly sucked back under. I thrashed and rolled my body, stuck under the water, wave after wave whipping me around. I'm only 6 years old and the little girl who pushed me doesn't know I can't swim. I try pushing my body up again and scream for help before my body gets shoved back down by another unforgiving wave. The water is trying its best to kill me. I don't want to die. A small hand grabs my pony tail and pulls my head above water. The pain in my scalp is nothing compared to the relief of being able to breath again."Grab my hand!" she yelled...
Type writer
I found the old box in my grandma's attic. I opened it and saw twww.onedoor.cche books stacked on top of one another. I sat myself comfortably on the creaky old floor that most would go crazy about these days and grabbed one up gently. What was I looking for; nothing more than unknown nostalgia. I did the first thing I always do when I opened the book; I smelled the pages. I realize it sounds incredibly weird. I have often felt if books were people I would fit the profile of perverted maniac, having already sat in front of a jury trying to justify the reason. Some would not understand but I would plead with...