My name is Jennifer, but I like to be called Jen. I was born in Mobile, Alabama on April 3,. I am the oldest of 5 kids. When I was 16, I was not like most kids dating, going to the mall, and hanging out with friends. I was at home cooking, cleaning, and taking care of my younger siblings. My parents were both working full time and relied on me to take care of everything around the house. I was trying balance going to school and my responsibilities of taking care of my family. I dropped out of high
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Shortly after eating my home cooked meal, my husband became extremely sick. The women in town like to think that my cooking killed him, but the doctor said that he actually died from dysentery. Two weeks later, we moved from our little ranch in Texas to Independence, Missouri to be with my parents because I couldn’t support the six little ones on my own. My parents started complaining about extra mouths to feed, the children being noisy and about not having enough space. My sister came up with
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The image is desolate: a lonesome man isolates himself in his home for years as his neighbors question his motives. In To Kill a Mockingbird, author Harper Lee portrays the mysterious character through narrator Scout’s perspective. Scout would listen to the gossip in her neighborhood, especially regarding one peculiar neighbor. Lee characterizes Arthur “Boo” Radley as a benevolent, mysterious outcast. In doing so, Lee suggests that one may isolate his or her self to avoid ruthless judgment from others
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Rachel Fang Teacher: Mr.Hitchcox ENG3U October 11th 2015 Fiery Cross Recently, there was a series of homicide case that happened in a rural town, and all the decedents were killed in a variety of cruel means. These incidents that were quite shocking in this town, and the people were too scared to go outside of their homes. Based on detailed cases analysis, the detective Richard, who was well known in Police Department, judged that these cases were more likely to be done by a certain person
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Which is the perfect distraction especially since the whole town was there to fight the fire. Which William knew was going to happen since the closest fire department was to far away to stop the fire from spreading. So that was the town’s job since it is a small town they formed bucket lines. Or maybe there was something in that barn that would have been bad if someone saw it. Say the police seeing a crime that
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entirely unappealing to me. Not seeing my best friends for months on end, not visiting my grandparents and uncle whenever I felt lonely: unimaginable. I could not fathom leaving the only place I ever had the blessing to call “home”. I abhorred the idea of living in the midst of the stereotypical "traditional" views of the "uneducated" Southerners. The only experience I had with “real Southerners” was the cowboy shop located on the main street of my town; I was not looking forward to people like
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is what makes my Grandma a hero to me. Odysseus is a famous Greek hero made by the poet, Homer, while Homer was writing The Odyssey. Odysseus may have slain monsters and passed the Greek gods’ tests, but while my grandma may not have done any of that, she and Odysseus are both heroes who are neither greater nor weaker than each other. It is the hero’s transition that makes them a hero and though both Odysseus and my grandma went through different trials, they are both heroes. My grandma
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or scream, as they toss idea upon idea across the table, swatting each good intention down with some ordinance or law. I wonder why I am in the room. Most of what they say rolls 'round me as if waves of monkey chatter. I don't get it. I want to go home and build a bread, read a book about building bread, take a nap while a bread is building itself. Out of the chatter someone comments
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Welcome to the amiable town of West Dover, Vermont, home of Mount Snow, the purveyor to the ski and snowboard addict for his fix. It's winter and I am in this placid place to enjoy a favorite pastime of mine. I am not here for conventional skiing, but for the "alternative" version known as cross-country skiing. My sport takes place not on Mount Snow, but across from it, in a comfortable community called Timber Creek. When I cross-country ski at Timber Creek, I experience an inundating sense of euphoria
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Waking up not knowing where I was or what was going on. Only to see my mother and father in tears along with my sisters, I will never forget the look on each one of their faces till the day I die and long after. Sheer disappointment and fear is all I could see in their eyes. As I slowly started to regain my consciousness I began to realize what was going on. I was in a hospital bed, IV syringes and defibrillator patches all over my body. I was in the 10th grade, I was on top of the world. Perfect
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