Creative Writing: Major's Death

High school is a big time for change in a teenagers life. They go through problems with friends, family, grades, and sports. For Andy Jackson, a 17 year old student at Hazelwood High School, he went through all of those troubles. He plays for the basketball team with his friends Rob Washington, Tyrone Mills, and B.J. Carson. One night after basketball practice, Andy was drinking alcohol and driving which led them to get in a car crash. Andy, Tyrone, and B.J. escaped the car with a few cuts and bruises, but Rob got stuck and burned to death. Rob’s death brought Andy to blame himself. He turns away from his friends, his girlfriend, Keisha, and his family. Andy changes negatively after the car crash; he becomes insecure, he closes up his feelings, and he turns emotionally weak.

Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.

Sting Eucliffe, 18 years old, approaches the dorm building at Magnolia University. His heart is pounding in his chest, a mile a minute. He honestly had no clue what to expect, but good lord was he glad to be out of high school. There he was bullied endlessly for being gay, both with words and with fists. He could almost still feel their rough hands slapping him across the face, shoving him to the floor of the locker rooms... And the worst part was, no one had cared. Sting's mother passed away when he was little, barely even 4 years old, and his father was a business man who was never home. Sting had gotten used to being quiet about these sorts of things, having no one to really vent to anyways. Here he hoped he could make a fresh start. Find a job, pass his classes, make some friends... Anything really. Anything but a scenario like high school

"Probably not, Ash," Ethan sighed. He had always thought it'd be a SWAT team or a mob squad or some crazed villain that could come kicking down his door, not two kids with fetishes. Still, now was time to start phasing all of it somewhere else. He couldn't really call his Hollow secret now, could he? Well, it was arguable that he couldn't before, but now that two of the people involved in Bastion's suicide had found it, he'd need to move it. All of it. The very thought of the logistics of it gave him a headache.

The weight room became his sanctuary and he was always there 2 hours before everyone else in the morning and a hour more in the afternoon. Football could be his ticket out of high school. He was a top recruit his Junior year and stunned every college coach that watched him run and hit. The only problem was Jack's academics. He held a D average and was always on the verge of dropping out, but his principal knew the school needed Jack for football, which kept him afloat. Jack finished his Junior year football season and had his whole life ahead of him. He felt on top of the world and nothing could stop him. Jack became a big partier and knew he could play football anywhere he wanted, so he didn’t care about anything. After a party he was driving home and was still intoxicated. Falling asleep at the wheel he crashed into a lightpost only a block away from his apartment and broke his arm, collarbone, and left

Purgatory: A place where the most malignant/hazardous fiends are jailed due to their assailments on the human race. Their thirst for human blood still lingered within them, even after centuries of being caged in Purgatory. They probed everywhere for a way out of the illimitable, gloomy, foggy forest and rivers; killing themselves and others with hunger and insanity. Once a fiend is in, it’s nearly impossible to get out without a Reaper’s or Knight’s scythe.

Thunder rumbled overhead as the funeral procession slowly made their way to the cemetery. The sky grew more ominous as rain drops started to fall. They splattered rhythmically on windshields of the cars that were part of this heart rendering day.

The party just had to be as grand as possible. How could it not be? The quarter was practically bursting with business, and the family couldn’t be more content. Who wouldn’t love living in the 1920’s New orleans during the time of flapper girls, brothels, jazz clubs and bars. The people who run it love it, but the people who let’s say owe them don’t. However, like any family, there’s always a fight or some type of rift to seperate loyalties and cause drama. Unfortunately, in this family, drama can only lead to death.

During the funeral I realized that the reason why I wasnt there was because if I did go to it I would cry and show my weakness. I am walking through the garden and I heard footsteps, So I hid in a bush and couldn’t make out who they were because it is dark. I grab my sword from its sheath and attack the intruder, It is Roden. He attacked me and cut my stomach, but I fought back. As soon as he had me pinned down he said that I have one week to surrender to the pirates or they would attack Cathia. Roden left once he heard my soldiers running to help me. After the funeral, I went to talk to Mot, he was with King Vargan the King of Avenia. They helped me get bandaged and Mot said something about a steward taking my role as king until I was older,

Dr. Partridge, her supervisor, answered, “They had a horrible relationship. The father was in the habit of drinking excessively; and one night, he and his wife got into a fight, and he killed her.”

It was another day in the monotonous schedule of McGill Toolen Catholic High School. I was stuck in the smallest classroom in the world and longed to leave. The bell rang out, signaling my journey to the next teacher, the mighty, stereotypically dressed Coach Thompson. Upon my arrival to the locker room, I was assigned one objective, change out. I performed what I was told in the largest and well-maintained locker room in America. “Alright, let’s go!” Coach Thompson’s deafening voice boomed throughout the luxurious locker room.

Gasping for air, I widely opened my eyes and saw bright blinding lights shooting down at me, closing my eyes for a brief moment, I inched them down to the hospital clothes I was wearing.

Last week, police discovered at least 20 partially decomposed bodies of migrants piled into an abandoned truck on the shoulder of an Austrian highway leaving the Hungarian border. "The state of the bodies made establishing the identity and exact number of dead migrants difficult, but the number could rise to 50," said Hans Peter Doskozil, Chief of Burgenland police. He also mentioned that the truck had Hungarian license plates. The police were given information that it was left on Wednesday and the back door was left open. They thought the truck had mechanical problems until they saw the blood dripping and the smell of rotting flesh. They will not disclose anymore information to the public. Not even any possible identities, whether any children

walked out of the catacombs calm, I then reentered the carnival crowd to blend in…

     Tony finished getting ready, and then we left for the high school. The parking lot was filled with all the other seniors’ cars. Tony and I walked into the library ten minutes late like usual, and the principal had already started giving instructions. I found my place in line and then was all ears. I couldn’t help but look around at all the others. Smiles were plastered on their faces as if they had heard a hilarious joke. Once the principal concluded his speech, the whole senior class paraded down the hallway to the commons in two uniform lines stopping just outside the gymnasium doors. We could hear the band warming up and playing songs. All the people that were standing around me were bubbling