Creative Writing: One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

One day, cutting through the swamp, David comes across the remains of old Indian souls and discovers a skull with jewelry still buried on the bodies. As David kicks at the skull, he hears a voice and looks up to see a black man seated on a stump just looking. The man, wearing a black sash around his body, has a soot-stained face, which makes it appear as if he works in some fiery place. David soon recognizes the stranger as the devil, the black man. Twenty years later we had a family reunion with all my relatives and they started talking about the fire.

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

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.

People should not leave looking-glasses hanging in their rooms any more than they should leave open cheque books or letters confessing some hideous crime. One could not help looking, that summer afternoon, in the long glass that hung outside in the hall. Chance had so arranged it. From the depths of the sofa in the drawing-room one could see reflected in the Italian glass not only the marble-topped table opposite, but a stretch of the garden beyond. One could see a long grass path leading between banks of tall flowers until, slicing off an angle, the gold rim cut it off.

“After defeating the Cyclops Polyphemus, my men grew exhausted. They grew thirsty from rowing under the beating hot sun. Sweat dripped down their heads and the ship’s deck grew moist from the mix of the salty, seawater and sweat. We stopped by on a nearby island.

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.

Good. I touch the icon and drag it. Oh, it’s following my finger’s movement. Alright, let’s see… I drag it to the slot that indicates my right hand. Immediately, the bokutõ shows up on my hand with a quick white light.

As medical advances are being made, it makes the treating of diseases easier and easier. Mental hospitals have changed the way the treat a patient’s illness considerably compared to the hospital described in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

Wielding his crudely-formed dirk, Alo vaulted over the rotting log at his feet, ran over a stretch of soggy leaves, and ducked behind the colossal tree that towered every other object on the island. At that moment, Alo heard a noise; a rustle; a crunch of a stack of leaves. In the distance, he spotted one of the many intruders out to decimate them, enjoying a meal beside another towering tree. Alo tiptoed towards him, as quiet as a cheetah advancing towards its next meal. As Alo approached the infiltrator, he raised his weapon, ready to neutralize his target. When the man finally realized his situation, he was defenseless; he pushed himself back against the large tree and begged for mercy, cowering in fear, just like an unlucky animal cornered

Lionel Giverd was practicing his football one day on his team, and he suddenly landed on his arm he started to swear. He realized he would be in the cast for a while and he hoped he could make the team next year.

The drive home was difficult; his vision swam and his muscles felt stiff and achy. Too bright city lights glared at him, pierced his eyes. His head throbbed, beat, beat, beat, in rhythm with his racing heart. Nausea rocked in his stomach and every noise seemed amplified. Why were these damn people driving so slowly? He needed to get home; he was already late as it was, and his father wouldn't be pleased. Leaving the glowing city behind him, Aiden found slight relief in the peaceful country roads and sharp peppermint smelling pines that surrounded his home, if you could call it that.

The small echo of dripping water is what woke Einar up from his small nap. Blinking the crust away in his eyes his vision slowly faded in focus as his companion opened his eyes as well, the cave was dark with the only light being a soft glow from the entrance. The brute let out a yawn. His front legs stretched before him, stretching his tight muscles out and giving him the satisfying pain. A few joints in this shoulders popped most likely from being in that tight knit circle that he stayed in to retain some of his warmth in the rather large cave. Looking at the entrance again Einar could see that some snow had littered into the cave 'there must of have been another storm' the young brute though to himself. Despite living up in the mountains, Einar hatted the cold. However, he felt no need to move anywhere else. He had found a nice routine here and there were plenty of rabbits to keep up with his constant hunger.

In January 1843 my fellow cop William Washington and I were just relaxing after and long and hard day on the job. All the sudden we get a suspicious call from a nearby home in Massachusetts. William and I grabbed our gear and went to investigate. When we arrived at the house, a lady answered the door and said that she heard a screech from her neighbor’s house. When we walked over to the neighbor’s house a young man answered the door and greeted us. When we told the young man that somebody reported a yell he said that it was his own from a nightmare he had. We ask him if we could search the his home and he hesitantly said yes. We searched all the floors of his home and William and I found nothing suspicious. We asked for the young man's name

"Come on in!" Mrs. Knox said, smiling. She waved at Lavender, feeling like she could understand the joys of being a parent now, even if her son wasn't biologically hers. They'd had his last named changed, though, and that had helped her see him as her own. If he ever had kids, they'd be Knoxs, and then it would feel much more normal to her. She still associated family with blood, despite her best intentions. And to be fair, she knew little about her son's blood. Until the police interferred, she'd thought that it was type A, like the papers had said, but as they had proven, type AB. Ever sense, she'd had a feeling that her son had been keeping things from her. But then again, that gave her a little chuckle. As crazy as it sounded, it made her

The entrance to the tunnel was the sinners only way out, or so they thought. A handful of poor unfortunate souls dragged their feet through the tunnel. They went through not knowing what to expect next. The heat was unbearable, making them walk slower. They had to feel their way through the pure darkness till they saw a small light at the end. A handful of sinners went in, and half of them made it out in one piece. On the other side of the tunnel there were slaves being stabbed with pitchforks, which was supposed to be motivation to move faster. Red rocks piled high near the river of souls that flows through the underworld. The gray river held every soul of those who bargained with the Master. The flames that burned near the river were kept alive by the sinners shoveling loads of coals on to it. They are the ones to maintain the underworld. Those whose sins were the worst of the worst, forever burn in agony as they face torture for all