Creative Writing: Alabama Roadtrip

The driver, Cecilia Blair, of vehicle 1 was traveling north through the intersection of N. State St. and Flint St. when she had a collision with vehicle 2. The driver, Jacqueline Muir, of vehicle 2 was heading west on Flint St. when she was struck by vehicle 1.

Jefferson City, TN- The Jefferson County Patriots, comeback from eleven-points down in the third set to sweep the South Doyle Cherokees 25-21, 28-26, 25-23, on Thursday night at the Patriot Academy.

Thanks again for your help! That's wonderful to hear! I'm actually back in Dunellen working with my father and doing some subbing here and there. I would be interested in providing information and help on the Valley Forge Encampment, however, I do not have many materials or props about the park or the encampment. So, if you don't think it would be in your best interest in coming into the school, I wouldn't mind doing something through Skype or email. Sincerely -Russell Brindley.

I'm going to Lucky Eagle this morning, but wanted to send you a note before I head out to let you know that Jackie and I will not be on next Monday's casino bus to Red Wind. We're going to Pendleton with a group of gals to play golf and gamble. We're leaving Sunday and returning on Tuesday.

I comfortably drive my car into the desolate street, Perusing the deserted buildings, Smashes windows and rusted For Sale signs. The car locked up like Fort Knox. I observe the street for trouble. Two young boys look at me from afar as if I'm an alien. Do I stand out that much same greasy hair, expensive clothes, a smart car I suppose I am out of my comfort zone? “Mister, you don’t belong here” his hand gripped his switch. “Pony.... Ponyboy Curtis” I stammer “I live here or at least I did, I'm here to see two-bit’ The Boys turn around “geez his old now” the boy's chirp. The boys stroll away in awe that they saw the great Ponyboy.

Sunshine was pouring out from in between the buildings, casting shadows all around Ponyboy and the gang as they walked to Pony’s school. They were taking their time walking down the streets and for the first time they all were really seeing what was all around them. Memories were surfacing in their minds showing them what it all meant to them. With every step they took on the sidewalk they remembered a different memory as if they were walking down memory lane. Ponyboy didn’t think it was possible for him to be walking down this street for the last time as a high school student, but he had gone through the years with great grades that earned him many scholarships.

Saturday night in Muncie there was definitely only one place to be. It was a little hole in the wall bar named Valhalla. This bar is amazing. It's small but has a wicked light and sound system that puts bigger clubs to shame. And the place was definitely filled up with others like myself trying to get a taste of the Hoosier Heavy that is the Muncie metal scene.

Welcome to Sandersville, Georgia. A quaint, little town nestled in Washington County with a population of under 6,000. Seated happily in the Bible Belt, there are more churches than gas stations in the Southern city. We pass the only gas station for miles on the corner of the main street as my family heads to my Aunt’s house. The drive from Atlanta to Sandersville was slower than molasses running up hill—at least according to my mother. Sara Armour is the epitome of the southern belle. A well-spoken lady, she was born in Atlanta, but raised in Milledgeville, GA following her parents’ divorce. With bright red lipstick and a blonde bob, she looks like the carbon copy of her older sisters in that musty kitchen

The meeting was starting. The leader, an older woman with green eyes who looked familiar somehow, stood at a little black podium in between the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions posters, the neon AA triangle symbol glowing powder-blue, hopeful, behind her.

“One, two, three- LADY WARRIORS!” We cried, fists in the air. I smiled at my team, and we laughed, backing up to the starting line. Today was the day of the Washington Cross Country meet. All day I had been anticipating this moment. Throughout every hour, my fingers tapped against my knee, thoughts of last year’s race swirling in my nervous mind. But now, looking at the faces of my teammates, I felt better. We were going to be alright.

Omaha was a booming frontier town nestled between the Missouri and Platte rivers. Pioneers and prospectors, alike, often stopped in the small city as it was located between goldfields in the north and the open plains to the west. Thanks to the railroad, the town had become more accessible to travelers and brought more people to the frontier than ever before. The increase of travel helped to grow the town at a faster rate than many had thought possible and it would continue to grow because of it. Although it would fail to rival larger cities like Chicago or New York, Omaha was a beacon of light west of the Mississippi.

“You need to go home to area 26, it’s not safe here Brady,” “But mom it’s not safe there!” She was looking at me with a chilling eye, “Leave before I do,” I didn’t really know what she was meaning at the time but now I do…. “Leave” as in dying... going to Hell or Heaven. This was when I was six years old, so I didn’t know what to make of it . Area 26 is all of Michigan, back 200 years ago in 2042 all hell broke loose over planet Earth, meaning the government took reign over the people and now controls us to slay off the aliens.

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

Two Rivers is a campground not too far from Sartell, I have been there countless times throughout my childhood. It is called two Rivers because the Mississippi River and the Platte River connect at a bay that surrounds the entire campground. The Platte River is much smaller than the Mississippi, which makes it popular to tub on, like a giant lazy river at a water park. Tubing on the River is one of the most popular activities, with that you can also canoe and kayak. Most years the water in low and slow with some rapids, but this year it was particularly fast.

Delicious. I thought. The saltiness still lingered in my mouth. I went outside to the living room to watch the news. On the news it said “Hello this is Ava Rutter reporting live in South Side of Mississippi, where we are watching our world fall apart with the things that we do in the bathroom. And it is big and brown and sometimes different colors if you have Diarrhea.” But usually I get extremely tired of watching the news.