After stopping at The Pancake House, we got back on the road and started for home. It was Derek and Jordan in the back seat and John and I in the front. We were in the black truck, the color of midnight. After a few minutes of driving, Jordan and Derek fell asleep. This meant that only John and I were awake.
Soon after driving a couple miles, we came upon this grey spray-painted van. It looked like the Scooby Do van off of the children’s TV show. The guy in the van was going really slowly, for the surrounding area. After a few miles this guy started to swerve back and forth on the road side to side. The guy would ride the solid lines like it was nothing. The guy put you in the mind of someone that had no clue what they are doing; like
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A few seconds later he turns his turn signal off as a car approaches’ him to pass him he decides he will swerved near the car trying to pass him.
“That’s it, I’m calling the cops. Hand me my phone” said John. As I hand him his cell phone the guy hits his breaks. When the 911 lady answered John’s call she forwarded him to the cop that was supposed to be in the area. After talking to the cop and explaining what all was going on John hung up the phone and continued to drive down the road. By now it was getting dark and a little scarier to be following a creepy van like we were.
After the call to the cops the man decided to get under a little control or so we thought… Next thing we knew, the guy in front of us puts on his breaks and goes to 30 mph. Then, we see a gun! The guy in the van pulled out a pistol and held it out the window. The gun looked 20 feet long; I have never been so scared in my life. The guy didn’t shot or anything but he did move into the passing lane like he was going to pass someone but, there was nobody in front of him. All of a sudden the guy left of some rounds. Bang, Bang, Bang went the gun. Everyone in the truck jumped. I swear I jumped 20 feet in the air not knowing what to do next. I can’t die; we can’t die, not tonight. That all I could think of.
“I am not passing this guy or going anything” John stammered “I’m going to stay put, if I pass him then we will be dead and that’s a fact” As soon as
Dennis Rader was born on March 9th, 1945. He grew up in Park City, Kansas just outside of Wichita. His parents were William and Dorothea Rader. Both have passed away. Dennis has 3 brothers, Jeff, Paul and Bill Rader. He regulary attended church and was a compliance officer and also installed security systems. Rader was married on May 22nd, 1971 to Paula. They have 2 kids, Brian Rader and Kerri Lynn Rader. Brian is 31 years old and kerri is 28 years old. His daughter Kerri is currently living in Farmington, Michigan. Dennis Rader has been described as having a tight Christian control over his family, and as a by-the-numbers type of person, arrogant, rude, confrontation, meticulous, neat, efficient, friendly, a regular guy, and petty.
The whole trip, the speed limit was 70 miles per hour. Bob is used to the speed and forgot the speed limit decreases to 35 miles per hour. When Bob and Tammy entered Miami city limits Tammy noticed a patrol car behind them. The patrol car followed them for about a minute before she saw the red and blue lights come on. Bob noticed the patrol car also and pulled into a Dairy Queen parking lot. Bob’s behavior changed in an instant. Bob starts to sweat, and he is gripping the steering wheel.
I then remember about the other car. I look over to my left and my eyes widen. It was a light blue van, an older model. The whole front side from the bumper to the windshield wipers were crumbled like a piece of paper. There were two people in the front seat, one looked fine but the others head was resting against the wheel. My heart starts racing, wondering if anyone was hurt and if so how bad. I look back to my right to see Logan jumping out of the car see if everyone is alright. I tried to open the door but notice that the other car is keeping my door from opening. I look out at Logan and see him talking to the family, the car had two little kids, one boy and one girl, and also a toddler. I jump across to the other door and jump
Imagine living in a small town where there are so many natural disasters; such as sinkholes, lighting strikes, muck fires, and nighttime freezes that threaten to kill groves of tangerines. These many events occur in the novel titled Tangerine written by Edward Bloor. A boy named Paul Fisher just moved from Houston Texas to a county in Florida named Tangerine and already starting to have problems in his school such as bullying. Being known as the Eclipse Boy or Mars is a terrible feeling for a new student to go through in a new school. Not only is Paul Fisher being bullied in his school, but also within his own home by his dissolute brother Erik, who only cares about the “ Erik Fisher football dream.”
While this popular economic history will most appeal to readers with an interest in Wyoming, it raises the broader question of how our interpretation of the past influences current policy decisions.
While Connie was home, she washed her hair and listened to the radio. She gets scared when she hears a car coming down her up her driveway. When the car finally stops, she hears a honk four times. When Connie goes to see who it is, it’s two guys sitting in a jalopy. The one driving gets out and starts talking to her, and she shows him no interest.
In his narratives, Tim intentionally fictionalizes the war experience to illustrate the personal effect the war had, not only on the soldiers but also, the outsiders. He makes sure to mention every detail, even the insignificant little ones, like the things they carried into battle, consisting of their mundane necessities like extra rations or tranquilizers, to U.S. stationeries like Sterno and tanning lotions, to infections and diseases, such as malaria and dysentery. Through story truth, Tim also reveals the psychological burdens they carried; they carried the land of Vietnam, the orange-red dusty soil, the sky, the gravity; they carried the whole atmosphere. They also hauled in the weight of memory, the small hope of getting out alive,
Is there anything more tragic than an innocent person going to jail? Although some may say no! I believe that it is truly a tragedy. Yet there are situation that can be considered far more dreadful, fighting for your freedom as well as your life is a catastrophic. In the French documentary “Murder on a Sunday Morning,” was directed by Jean Xavier de Lestrade.
Jay's phone rang, and I groaned thinking he was about to leave because his girlfriend had called him. He laughed and answered. It. I then found out it wasn't his girlfriend.
"The Man I Killed" sets up thoughts that are tended to in "Ambush," similarly as "The Things They Carried" sets up thoughts that are tended to in "Affection." The holds back of "The Man I Killed, for example, "he was a short, slim man of around twenty," are steady, adding to the coherence of the narrating. Dissimilar to "The Man I Killed," which appears to occur continuously, "Snare" is as of now a memory story—one with point of view, history, and a feeling of life's continuation. In that capacity, O'Brien utilizes his account to clear up a portion of the inquiries that we may have about the to some degree equivocal variant of the story in "The Man I Killed." But O'Brien's memory is perfectly clear. He recalls how he heaved the projectile and
From an early age, children are taught that murder is morally wrong. In today’s complex society that is impeded by unsettling periods of civil unrest, it is an expectation for everyone to acknowledge and accept that murder is one of the worst crimes individuals can commit. Perhaps it can be said that the death penalty is one of our legal system’s biggest contradictions of itself, as, if someone commits murder (or another heinous crime of that caliber), such ‘murderers’ will, in states that have capital punishment laws, be sent to Death Row and ultimately murdered in order to prevent potential future crimes by such perpetrators. I believe that the death penalty is wrong not only as it is immoral to take a life, but also, such ineffective laws waste money and do not deter crime.
The Man I Killed is the story of the man that Tim O’Brien killed. However, this story is not true. He later mentions that he did not in fact kill the man, yet he was present and that was enough. This story, according to him, is told to show the reader how he feels, because O’Brien feels as though the truth is that by doing nothing, he killed the man, so in his story, he does kill the man. Imagery is the biggest literary device seen in this story, but diction also helps make the story seem more true, it helps the reader to truly believe that O’Brien did in fact throw the grenade that killed the man. This story is told from O’Brien’s point of view, which would be first person, despite the fact that the word “I” is
They both reply without any hesitation,”Yes please,” Their order came almost right away, Jim knew something smelled a little fishy tonight. They paid the bill and as the server came over to our table to collect the check someone from the kitchen bolted out, he seemed very angry. The two police walked out calmly behind them and went to the cruiser, they saw the man get into his car and speed away, he drove down Flying pan road to the right. The police went left to the station.
Once upon a time there was these two brothers whom lived in a small village and were really close to each other in everything they did. The only thing they had in contrast was their personalities and goals. One brother was wiser, made smarter decisions, and was know to be the calm and chill brother, while the other one had no chill and liked them to break the rules, he was known to as the savage brother. They got along with each other so well even tho their personalities were not too alike. The chill brother went by the name of Elmer, he was 14 years old, and the savage brother went by the name of Ricky but was called by the name “savageRick” and was 15 years old. They both had the same friends in the village and were known around pretty
It was getting louder and closer, his body vibrating violently. Two blindingly bright lights approaching, the prolonged, deafening honk of the horn milliseconds away, and then suddenly it was everywhere. He opened his mouth and roared with ecstasy, his voice being ripped away by the bottom of the oversized truck. The thrill of holding hands with death overwhelmed him as he was yet again, plunged into darkness as the truck continued on its journey.