One Day Short Story

An entire day went by after the events of encountering the Sangrine Syndicate. Isaac sat outside on the fire escape with Epsilon, both drinking canned soda and soaking up the sun’s rays. Even though they had known each other for a short time, they managed to get along extremely well. Inside, Gerard, Malessica and Claire moved around the kitchen preparing breakfast for everyone. Yuri sat down on the couch, reading one of the books from the table. Sabra laid down in bed, slowly opening her eyes, looking around the bedroom. She sat up in her bed, finding bandages wrapped around her arms and torso, grunting in pain. Placing her index and middle finger on her forehead, she exhaled sharply.

Living in a Latino household, unabating nagging was as common as the dust we swept every day. A motto my mother would always repeat to me was “es una vergüenza llegar a un lugar con las manos vacías” which translates to, “you should never arrive somewhere empty-handed.” It sounded strident when she first said it to me, just as many of her other sayings were, but she colored them with her values, which made them lessons rather than just nagging. Mom reminds me of the value of hard and quality work. She never let me leave the kitchen until the dishes were washed, dried, and put away. Our doors were always open; she never let a guest leave on an empty stomach. She takes care of the ones who took care of her, and expects the same of me. These and many more were her Salvadorian hallmarks that I rejected at first, but now treasure like an invaluable inheritance.

“This is a terrible idea.” Percival gave a solemn shake of his head. “Absolutely terrible.”

I came home from school just like any other day. It was around the end of the fourth grade and I was very exited for summer to be here! I noticed an unusual box sitting in the corner of the room but I paid it no attention as a rambled on to my mom, what I thought was a sectaculer day! Later my dad called my sister and I to the kitchen table to talk. The first thing that crossed my mind was, “oh Lord, what have we done now?” Instead, my dad pointed at the box in the corner. He told us to go look inside and tell him if we recognized where the things were from. As I look down into the box, I recognize the pictures of my family and the past fathers day gifts my sister or I had given my dad over the years that he always had sitting on his desk at

Hello, welcome back with another and only post by Adam. So Yesterday I went home from school and my parents were at home too because they off from work that day. After, I went home and change into my wrestling stuff, my parents take me to Cudahy. My match against Jacob N and and he's on my weight class, but he way bigger than me. The score was 18- 5 and I though is gonna be hard for to win against him, but I know I will try my best to win the match. I win all my match since when the wrestling season

First, my mother, Reina, (the fourth child out of six) was born into poverty in Ajuterique, Comayagua- Honduras. She was diagnosed with epilepsy at the age of three from eating contaminated pork. However, as a young child, about the age of 6, she was forced to work in order to help her mother support the business and family affairs, thus education and work came hand in hand, and both things had to get done every day with no excuses. She would have to go door to door and sell merchandise consisting of meat, tamales, chicharones, milk products such as: cheese, sour cream, etc. and much more. Moreover, her days would begin at 3 AM to help in the house, get ready for school, and then go to work. My mother would not come home until she sold mostly all of her items making her days long and tiring. Due to the way of life and customs she lived in Honduras, she decided on taking a different course in her life when the opportunity became available. She wanted to prosper, have more, and become a better person.

One day kevin was at the zoo playing with his friends talking they were talking about how he could play basketball and he could shoot a 3 pointer. And he said that he would do better by slam dunking it and hanging on to the rim. There was a tiny problem there was no rim so they had to figure out what to do so they just sat around talking about how kevin could dance and drive. Then it was about 3 in the morning and kevin and his friends heard something outside but they just turned over in their bed’s and went back to bed then they all heard a loud BOOM!!! So they all jumped outta bed and looked at each other and looked around and went outside to see where the loud boom had came from. When they got outside there they loud noise was again

“People of Mexican heritage receive a great deal of social support from the family and, whereas Anglos derive most of their status from their job” (Ross, Mirowsky and Ulbrich 1983). Hispanic culture raises its females to care for the house and family. They do this by instilling in them cultural norms of most Mexican women. It is almost and expectation that life should be this way. The man is the supporter and provides financially and structurally for the family while the wife cares for the home and family. “Mexican-American women are also less likely to be employed then non-Hispanic white women” (Ross et al. 1983). Growing up in one culture with two different views can be confusing and liberating. My mother was born and raised in Mexico. In this part of the family, it was expected that women cook, clean and serve the men of the house. The women tended to the father and brothers. My grandfather worked to provide for the family, and my uncle worked to provide for himself, but my grandmother and aunts cooked, did the laundry and waited on my grandfather and uncle. This way of life was the norm for my mother’s family. The same culture somewhat different upbringing was my dad’s family. All of my father’s family was born and raised here. My grandmother was the family glue. She cared for all of the household chores and cooking. My grandfather worked and provided for the family. My aunt and uncles worked and assisted my grandmother, but not expected. My grandmother always stressed

The technique to be used is by asking your kid lots and lots of questions , which encourages them to find their best interest answers .Start with a very simple way by giving them the options to choose what they would want to eat for tiffin tomorrow or question their willingness to go out for an outing or a social event. Let them take the decision of what they want to eat , how they want to look and where they want to go for the evening. This decisive power makes them value their time and resources. They gather self-control and become risk takers. They would know what is good for them and what fits in their best interest. Kids will trouble us less when we mothers take them out or be happier staying home with their elders. One of the major issues

The wind blew softly, pressing against my skin; the heat was humid, sweat licking down my back. Leaves danced in the wind, like ballerina's taking their turn in the spotlight afters years of practice. It was a nice day, and Autumn day, a day for family activities. It was cold enough to need a long sleeved shirt and pants, maybe even sweats. But it wasn’t so bad to wear layers upon layers of clothing. It was a normal day in the small town of Duncan, a mix between everything. I felt the breeze ruffling my hair, but complaints about the heat were all that was talked about.

My mom worked two jobs because we didn’t have a lot of money, she was a single mother raising up three kids. When my mom would come from work she was tired so she would sleep for about four hours then she would wake up and go to her other job. Being the oldest girl meant that all the chores that needed to be done were my responsibility, cleaning the house and keeping things organized was my job. There was a time that my mom came back from work and I didn’t think she even notice that the little place we lived in was clean because she was to tired to notice. The day after she realized what had done, when she came home she had a cake so I wonder what was the deal behind that. She told me that the cake was for me for being a great daughter.

The story hour we read was a very true story I think back in that day. Back than the husbands hit their wives and beat them and stuff and thought it was okay, people still do that today but they will get in trouble for it. But I can see why she did not like staying with that guy. She was a slave I bet and did all of the work around the house while all he did was went to his job. I bet he doesn’t do anything for work either. The reason why I think she croaked was because she was sad that he did not die and she wasn’t actually free anymore. That is what I am thinking happened.

The story is set in the town of Lawless, Illinois during Prohibition era, where brewed liquor dominates the black market. Angelo Lagusa, a young man whose family was murdered in a mafia dispute, seeks revenge against the Vanetti Family and its don, Vincent Vanetti. Seven years after the murder, Angelo receives an anonymous letter from a self-proclaimed friend of his father's, prompting him to return to Lawless and exact his revenge.

It was 10 years ago, when I was just a little boy. At that time, my mom had so much work at her office and she just couldn’t come back home until 9 p.m. In my family, my mom was the only one who could prepare food and cook. So when she called my dad and said that she couldn’t come back home early to cook a meal for me and my father, we thought that we were having the biggest problem in

My life was very structured and it drove me to want something different, but when I had to face my consequences, I soon came to want exactly what I was running from. Ironically enough, I am beginning to see what they were trying to do as parents. It would be nice to finally make them proud to be an influence in my life, and I will do my best to make that happen.