#school essay

one survivor, "Officer Raven reporting, I'm nearby I'll check it out." I race over there and it turns out

that I'm the first officer on scene.

The crash is already looking off to me as I get closer, observing the vehicle..... the one survivor is so

shaken up that they're not speaking, and it seems as though there was only one car involved in this

accident, the car isn't too busted up so the fact there are two dead is leaving me scratching my head.

"Officer! Officer!" I hear someone shouting for my attention and I turn and see a weirdly dressed

man.

"Officer! I seen it! I seen it all happen!" the officer looks at me kinda a bit startled but also seemingly

satisfied there's a witness because in my opinion, one witness is better than none.

"what exactly happened here today?" the officer asks me and I gulp getting ready to tell him

everything he wanted to hear.

"It was about... 9:50 something when I was already driving on my way to work when I looked out my

rearview mirror and seen a car swerving out of control, I stopped abruptly trying to get out of the

car's way you know? but the car just seemed to keep going and got more erratic until it finally came

into contact with a brick wall, and well when I got out of my car to go check if everyone was okay,

everyone was already dead."

I look at the man a bit thrown off by his statement, as there is in fact one survivor which means either

he didn't really check out the vehicle like he said or he was just overwhelmed but either way what he

said was not entirely true, which makes me wonder if any of it was true.. I ask him for his name and

I.D telling him "it's protocol for witness statements" and then I walk back over to my car and run his

plates, and name, what comes back shocks me to say the least. The man I'd just spoken with had

been in jail for murder, attempted murder, and kidnapping, now just how was I going to bring that up

to him without alarming him or losing him completely. I walk back over to the man with a friendly

smile and hand him his I.D back and decide to take the risk, "how did you know that everyone was

dead, sir?"

I look at the officer and it seems something has changed in his demeanor and it's either my paranoia

or maybe just maybe he'd piece together exactly what I had done. "I uh, I told you officer when I

went up to the car to check on everyone they appeared to have already been dead." I put my hands

in my pockets starting to feel them clam up with sweat and I try my best to maintain contact with him.

I don't believe a word the man says although I chalk it up to just a feeling, but I need to keep his

attention and at least try to get him to slip up if he's not being truthful. I pull out a notepad from my

back pocket and the pen from my shirt pocket and ask him "so can you walk me back through the

events? just so I can write down your statement and get the full story and then, we'll be done here."

"Sure, sure I get it" I wave my hands dismissing his explanation for the retelling, I've been through

this before and i'm really just ready to get this over with and finally leave. "I was just driving through

and I noticed a car swerving-" "where were you driving from?" I stumble at the officers interruption,

huffing, then quickly fill in the gap. "I was driving through on my way from home going to get some

food-" "earlier I thought you said you were going to work, no?" Irritated with his incessant

interruptions I quickly fill in that plothole. "Sure, I was driving to get breakfast before work, whatever!

On my way to get the food I noticed a car behind me flashing its lights and driving erratically until it

crashed into a pole." I take a deep breath, glad we've finally gotten this over with. "there, officer. Can

I go now?"

I look at the man with the most bewildered expression ever and shake my head, no. "Turn around

and put your hands behind your back." "what, why?" "you're lying, your story has changed three

times, you're really not dressed for work, pal. From the gloves, to the red shirt and pants, your jail

record and the fact you think there's no survivors well there is a sole survivor." I watch as the man's

face pales and he turns around slowly putting his hands behind his back, I cuff him.

The officer takes the cuffed man into the back of the squad car securing it and then closing the door,

more squad cars and ambulances arrive to the scene securing it off. As another officer steps out of

their car, words are exchanged between the officers when they shake hands and then officer Raven

Good or bad, black or white, shameless or shameful. Such

simple describing words for a world that has never or ever will

be simple in any way. Although, social media has helped a lot

of people with a lot of stuff ranging from social anxiety,

making friends, finding jobs, or even just getting their own

word out into this big wide world. In comparison, it still has its

downsides, social media opens you up to a wide range of

dangers starting from stranger danger to cyber bullying all

the way to stalking. Even more importantly, social media has

seriously warped perspectives for generations and

generations, people have become much more comfortable

with being cruel, the bystander effect has also seemed to

worsen in these modern years, there is no such thing as

community or much of any neighborly love anymore.

In simple words, social media has greatly wounded our society

more than I can recall it positively helping to advance. For

instance, tragedy of the commons. Social media is both

Daydreaming

1 As I pass by the old skating rink,

2 I sorrowfully think, back to the time when this was new

3 When the world was new to me, greener greens, bluer blues with a nice

hue

4 Oh I can't help feeling blue and i'm sure you would too

5 like a doll who's been put back on the shelf, all I can do is look back

6 on the world I was apart of, the memories I made, the songs we sung

7 if only I could truly go back in time why, oh my, I'd do it anytime

8 regretfully I think what's the point of memories if I can't live in mine

9 but maybe that's the reason, this season

10 for my melancholy blues, oh, how time really does sneak up on you

11 now everything seems to be a good memory when it was just my favorite

day

12 oh what a way.

13 To this day I still think about my past, maybe till the end of my days I will,

Sensitive, melodramatic, overly emotional, I choose to care too much rather than not caring enough. At a young age, I learned about the detrimental, permanent consequences that stem from selfishness and not caring for others. How one selfish action can cause an unforgettable, scarring moment for the people I care about as well as for me(Participle). Tears and compassion build relationships and these rough beginnings always lead to a beneficial change. One specific event involving a long shower on a cold night, my older brother, and a nasty fight between my parents made me realize I needed to act more caring and considerate of others(Climax). 

Coming home from my grandparents’ house on an unbearable freezing December night, I craved the warm embrace of a steaming shower(Participle). Pushing my clueless brother away from the door, I breathlessly raced up the stairs to the bathroom. 

Behind me, I heard him mutter, “Not fair, I’m older.” 

At the top of the stairs, feeling high and mighty, I raised my shoulders and yelled, “You’re just a sore loser!” 

Feet moving at lightning speed, I raced to grab my pajamas(Hyperbole). Internally celebrating my victory, I locked the door with a satisfied smirk, taunting him in my head, I win and you lose, too slow to beat me. I rarely got a chance to best my brother in anything. I hopped under the warm shower, a heavenly waterfall of bliss(Appositive). Nothing could ruin that moment. 

Through the roaring sound of the burning water,(Participle) my parents’ raised voices cut through my joyful bliss like a knife, increasing in volume by the second. I didn’t want to leave my warm heaven and walk out into a battlefield. Maybe if I stay in the bathroom long enough, they’ll stop. However, I knew how unrealistic my wish was. They never stopped; they fought until their screams turned into nothing more than a raspy whisper. Praying the fighting would cease by the time I got out of the bathroom, I stayed in the shower, with the scalding water(Participle) cascading over my skin until it ran as cold as ice(Absolute). Turning off the water, I sighed. I could still hear my parents yelling at each other in a language I could barely understand, let alone comprehend.

Getting dressed, I devised a plan to sneakily make my way to my room without drawing attention to myself. Maybe if I leave the door open just a crack, it won’t make a sound by shutting. If I wear my socks, I can sneak out of the bathroom without making a sound. When I get to my room I can just softly close the door. My parents won’t hear it shut over the sound of their voices. Satisfied with my poorly thought out plan, I crept out of the bathroom with soft footsteps, carefully trying not to make a sound. As soon as I took one step, the screams surrounded me, filling every nook and cranny of our house. I successfully took two steps before an arm shot out of the storage closet right next to the bathroom, grabbing my tiny wrist so tightly I thought it would bruise. With an iron grip on my wrist, the arm yanked me into the closet while quickly, yet silently, closing the closet door. The handle of an old broom dug into my back every time I attempted to shift into a different position. The sliver of light peeking through the crack(Personification) between the door and the wall barely outlined the face of my kidnapper, my brother. He moved closer to light, allowing me to see the flurry of emotions passing through his eyes. Fear, anger, annoyance, and worst of all, betrayal(Climax).

In a harsh whisper, he said, “I’ve sat in here since they started fighting. It’s not fair that you got to escape it while I sat through it all. Why did you take so long? Why did you leave me?”(Anaphora)

His words left me speechless. The look of sheer terror and betrayal in his eyes when he asked me why I left him alone caused my heart to audibly crack. The overwhelming feeling of guilt weighed me down as I questioned, how could I leave him all alone? What kind of monster would do that? How could I be so cruel, so heartless as to leave my own brother, alone and afraid,(Adjectives out of Order) to endure the sound of my parents fighting? Why was I so selfish? At that moment as I sat next to my trembling brother(Participle) in the inky black of the closet with the screaming resonating throughout the whole house, hearing the sniffles and muffled sobs coming from my brother and feeling my own eyes burning with tears, I knew I needed to change. 

With my shoulders hunched over in guilt, I muttered, “Sorry, can I help?”

He stared at me with a blank look, then shook his head vigorously.

With a harsh, fiery glare, he venomously whispered, “You can’t do anything.”

My heart ached at his harsh words, but I couldn’t blame him, my selfishness and refusal to think about my brother’s feelings led to immense pain for both of us. I said nothing more, just stared at the joyful puppies littered all over my pajama pants. The chipped paint on the wall behind my brother became something of great interest to him as he picked at it to avoid looking at me. The silence between us was deafening,(Oxymoron) louder than the argument right outside of the closet door. Both of us soon got lost in our own thoughts until the thundering sound(Participle) of a slamming door broke us out of our daze. Soon after another door slammed shut, this time we heard the crack of the old wooden door giving in to the pressure of years of countless arguments. 

Once my brother deemed it safe to leave the closet, he shoved past me to rush into his room, not forgetting to slam the door in my face before quickly locking it. I rushed into my room doing the same, hoping neither of our parents would emerge from their rooms to scold us. I leaped into my bed, pulling my blanket over my head in hopes that it could make me disappear. 

I finally let a lone tear escape(Personification) from the corner of my eye as I thought more and more about how my quivering brother,(Participle) terrified and alone,(Adjectives out of Order) desperately trying to block out the sound of our broken family falling apart. My overstimulated(Participle) brain flooded with thoughts of all the different possible outcomes of that situation  What if I was the one left alone, terrified and helpless? Would he leave me all alone just like I left him? Feeling myself drifting off into a restless sleep, I asked myself, what do I need to do to change my family?