her gifts. She affectionately nicknames her benefactor “Daddy-Long-Legs”. After completing her studies and initially struggling for work, Young-mi eventually obtains her dream job as a program writer in a nationally-syndicated radio station. On top of this, it has been arranged for her to stay rent-free in a nice house that the owner vacated due to health reasons. Young-mi believes that her good fortune is the work of her “Daddy-Long-Legs”. One day, Young-mi receives an email from the owner of
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She leaned into the hallway, conferring with the nurses. Maybe he got lost. Did we give him the right ward, the right room number? I sat back down on the cot, legs trembling from overuse, and stared at the blank walls. I imagined what daddy looked like. He was strong and tall, like mama had told me, with a sloping nose and my grey eyes. He wore a military jacket and medallions lined his arms, jingling as he walked. The radio coughed before turning
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I heard a branch break and knew he was near. "Shhh," I whispered, "Get down." Aimee whimpered a bit and I glared at her. That damn dog was going to get us killed. The wind had died and left the woods hot and sticky. It felt like August in Mississippi, though I didn't think of that until later. The brush was prickly and thin, lousy cover. The three of us were barely hidden and Cole's dog was going to give us away. Another branch broke, closer. Aimee growled. "Lauren," I mouthed at my wife, pleading
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and died in the numerous wars and conflicts this country has been involved in. We often visualize the wounded veteran in the hospital suffering from an injury. We are bombarded with pictures of soldiers, sailors and marines with missing arms or legs. These images touch all of us dearly and we empathize with these wounded warriors. Monetary foundations are created in their honor. They receive “The Purple Heart” medal for sustaining an injury in battle. Generals, heads-of-states, and even presidents
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and daddy took us to the bridge. After ten minutes, we reached at the
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|*Practice Questions Midterm #1 |[| | |p| | |i| |
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My losing brother I was only six years old when it happened, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was early one summer's morning. Daddy came into our bedroom without a sound and sat down at the edge of my bed. He didn't look like Daddy at all. He looked so small and scrunched up, like a crumpled piece of paper. For a long time my two older sisters and I sat there in our pyjamas, nervously looking at each other and waiting in silence for him to speak. Finally, in a strange strangled whisper
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Not long ago, a young lad was standing in the dead centre of nowhere. He was scrambling to see anything. After a while, everything went colourful , but soon after he heard breathing. He started wondering what and where it was coming from? When things became 101% clear, he saw in the corner of his eye a shadow of a beast that was coming close. Suddenly, something made him frolic with fear, he aimed to make a run for the closest civilisation he could find but he went numb with fear. The breath of the
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laid myself in a fetal position, holding close to my chest the picture-perfect moment captured by the piece of paper, was my beloved family. Mummy was wearing a vermillion dress that showed her slender figure smiling timidly with her eyes closed as daddy land a kiss on her forehead, standing handsomely with the black tuxedo. I stood in the middle, focusing on the camera with my eyes widen as big as I could as I feared that the flash of the camera make me blinked my glistened jovial eyes. Out of the
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wind coming up from Lake Michigan was icy on the face. If felt like winter straying early in the northern woodlands. Under the lampposts the leaves shone like bronze. And they rolled on the pavements like the ghost feet of a thousand autumns long dead, long before the boys left for faraway lands without great icy winds and promise of winter early in the air, lands without apple trees, the singing and the gold! It was the same night I met Celestino Fabia, "just a Filipino farmer" as he called himself
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