On The Run
On The Run I had to leave. It had been going on too long and I was sick of it. They weren't due home for hours. I grabbed my bag and started to pack. I'd soon be free. I was around six years old when it began. My parents were highly religious and if I was disobedient or achieved an inadequate grade at school then I would be sent to our basement for days at a time to think about what I had done with nothing but a glass of water and a Bible. The beatings started around a year later and were both physical and verbal. On a near-daily basis I would be told how I was unworthy of this world and how I, Mary, was a punishment from God to my parents for any bad they had done in their life. I'm fifteen years old now and it's worse than ever. I try to be like a normal teenager outside of my home and I have a box hidden under the floorboards in my room. It contains items which I'm forbidden from keeping such as magazines, sweets, fashionable clothes and makeup. The final straw came last week. I had arrived home from school and began my normal routine of getting changed and neatly folding my uniform, saying my prayers, completing my homework and then starting to cook tea for when my parents arrived home. We had recently taken the entire contents of our kitchen cupboards to the local homeless shelter in order to show God that we make sacrifices for him so the only food we had was soup. I
Narrative Writing
Narrative Writing The young girl remained motionless by the tree, and Gabriel descended into the village of Weatherbury. She sat there, still looking at the stars. Oak had faded into the distance. She began walking slowly in the direction of Weatherbury. She arrived in the silence of night. Nothing or no-one were around. The temperature had plummeted way below zero. She began to feel the bitterness of the cold as only a hooded cloak was her cover. Fanny decided to seek shelter, and crept quietly, not wanting to wake anybody in the village, towards the local inn. A weak light could be seen through a small, second floor window in the inn. Fanny softly tossed a small chip of rock towards the dim light. The door opened, "Can I help you my dear?" whispered a frail old woman. "Erm...Yes I need a room for tonight. How much would it cost?" inquired Fanny. "Two shillings dear" "I have only one" "Oh..." the delicate woman hesitated for a few moments, "Oh, go on, I'll accept the one seen as though it looks a bit chilly out there." Fanny rushed in, out of the cold with no uncertainty at all. Morning came and Fanny woke up to see the shimmering sun rays through the oak framed windows. She sat up to see the ground outside; everything was completely covered in a soft, glistening layer of snow. After she was dressed, she headed downstairs with her possessions ready to leave. Fanny
Eva Smith's Diary
Eva Smith's Diary st September 1910 I've just got back from my summer vacation. It was lovely. I'm really looking forward to going again next year. Life's looking up at the moment. It's great! Just one problem though, the money I'm receiving at the factory. I've spoken to quite a few other girls on vacation and they earn much more than twenty-two and six. I'll speak to Mr. Birling tomorrow to ask him about raising it to 25 shillings a week. I don't see why not myself. I'm a good worker and have been in the factory over a year. We'll just have to see what he says. 2th September 1910 That's it! I'm not taking any more. A few other girls and me, who are sick of the terrible money, are going on strike. He'll have to raise our weekly wage then won't he; well if he doesn't I'm not carrying on working for him. He's a mean man, and only cares for himself, wants all the money. It's not very often I get annoyed I don't like to call people and say nasty things about them, but I really have had enough today. This man has really angered me. I'm an excellent, hard, pleasant worker. How dare he have the cheek to say no! I told his this afternoon for the 6th time in the past 2 days, that because I was being promoted to leading operator I would at least expect a pay rise. His reply was the same, that it was his duty to keep labour costs down. His exact answer if I remember was; "I've told
Eva smiths diary
29th August 1910 Dear Diary Today was like so many other days in that hell hole, dull boring and exhausting. It is so hot in that factory and it's filthy as well. Little Georgina cut herself only last weak on a piece of broken glass and is now lying in the infirmary close to death with a raging fever from the infection, poor thing. I don't even know why we do it I work hard enough and only earn twenty two and sixpence witch barely keeps a roof over my head. So tomorrow we ask for a raise in money and better working conditions. If we get refused we strike to teach them a lesson and get what we want which to be honest isn't much at all. 3th September 1910 Dear Diary Back to work it is then we were refused the small increase in money to twenty- five shillings Mr Burling the head of the company said it would be to expensive and increase labour costs by to much so we went on strike if only for no more than two weeks I admit it was pretty feeble but its just after the holidays and were all broke and in desperate need of money so I guess well have to survive with the low pay and the disgusting conditions we have already. 5th September 1910 Dear Diary Well I'm done for I have no parents no money and now no job or proper house. Because of the strike me and the other 'ring leaders' Jenny and Melanie have been fired apparently were
English Media Coursework
A Report to Lord Carter of Barnes, (Minister for Media and Communications), on the Depiction of Women in Tabloid and Broadsheet Newspapers. In Britain, two out of three people read a national newspaper regularly. What newspapers choose to print is of primary importance in shaping the way we view ourselves, our communities, our country and the world. Recently, I have been looking at the different content presented in tabloids and broadsheets. The issue I noticed had the greatest amount of contrast was the way women are portrayed in each of the newspapers. It has become clear to me that newspapers aimed at the lower and working class, for example 'The Sun', illustrate women in a completely different context to newspapers like 'The Times', whose intention it is to attract the well educated and upper classes. I am focusing my report on the presentation of women as I believe it is extremely relevant to today's society. Newspapers have major effects and influences on their readers, especially newspapers which outline sexism as being okay. This topic is very important to me as I am a young woman and the opinions of men will affect me throughout my life. The way I perceive women is also motivated by what I see and read in newspapers and magazines. Already I have a dissatisfactory view of women as a whole because of the way they allow themselves to be portrayed in newspapers.
English-Original Writing
I opened my eyes and awoke to the resonance of a man reciting to me "Alisha, Alisha are you alright." I did not pay a great deal of attention to what he was saying to me as his parrot like repetitive voice had myself continuously questioning in my head, "Where am I? Why am I here? What has happened?" I gradually looked around moving my eyes side to side, struggling to find out where I was. All I could witness without my glasses were indistinct pale, blue walls and dull white curtains surrounding my bed side. I shook my head attempting to recall what had happened yesterday however it was no use, I could not remember anything. The man yet again repeated to me "Alisha, Alisha are you alright, you're in hospital. You've just emerged from a coma" I endeavoured to move my motionless head, however my whole body from top to bottom felt numb as if I had been as still as an immobile mountain, never erupting for countless decades. The man placed my short-sighted glasses onto my light brown eyes, as of then I began to observe him distinctively from everyone else, he reminded me of a particular individual of the family as his facial features had a close resemblance to those of my dads. Apart from his sleek and shiny brown hair gradually fading away and his smooth, clean shaven chin growing rough and prickly, nothing gave the impression of a major change. A woman who
English Coursework
English Coursework Stark Bateman sat in front of the rotting, mahogany door; its surface was now coarse and splintered, having endured years of harsh treatment from nature. She was coming. He knew She would. He could feel Her approaching, advancing, could feel the cold disturbance in the air. His skin began to erupt in goose bumps. He didn't know how close She was but he could be sure of one thing: She was coming. He was tired. His once smiling and jaunty face was drawn in a constant frown and covered in dirty sweat; his turquoise blue eyes were dull and listless; his dark hair struck out of his head haphazardly and his once small yet healthy physique was now thin and strangely dim, as if he were wasting away at the very core, a disease stretching out its tendrils from his centre, attacking the outside. His clothes hung off of him so much that they looked as if they were devouring him. His plain black t-shirt, however, clung to his upper body like a second skin. His blue jeans were stained with dirt. His eyes were trained on the door. He kept waiting for the ominous turn of the brass handle, kept waiting for Her to appear in front of him. The seconds ticked by. He waited. And waited. His thoughts whirled around in his head. Why him? What had he ever done to harm anybody? Did he deserve this? Questions, questions, questions but never any answers. His confused mind
English Coursework: Autobiography
English Coursework: Autobiography If there is one thing in life that I have learned at my young age. It's that everything you have in this world can be taken away from you in an instant. Looking back now on that day where my whole life changed, it started off as any normal day would. I woke up in my bed with my eyes half-open staring up at the ceiling wrapped up in my warm blanket. I turned my head and opened my eyes ever so slightly to see what time it was. It was still early so I decided to get back to sleep only to be awakened by my dog Jake. Jake was a German Shepherd and was very important to me, there were only three people in the world I could really count on. My dog, my best friend Anton and my girlfriend Sabrina. That's all I really needed in life, no matter what went wrong in my life as long as I had those three I would be okay. Anton and Sabrina didn't get along very well, I would try my best to keep those two apart while keeping them both happy but when they did see each other all they would do was quarrel. It was quite hard to keep them apart seeing as they were next door neighbours and if I went to see one of them the other would get annoyed because I didn't visit them. Anton and I had been life long friends, he had been there for me since before I can even remember and I was sure he would be there in the future. Sabrina was my girlfriend for 18 months and 23
English Creative Writing
Shakespeare Creative Writing Coursework How can life be so horrid? No time has passed since my marriage to the glorious Juliet and I have been exiled form my home, here in Verona. I love her so much and can not bear to be parted. I would rather die than face banishment. And thought I love her, I sometimes think that she is the root problem in my life. I would not fight with Tybalt because of her; Mercutio, stubborn as a donkey and twice as fierce as a tiger could not see a challenge go amiss: it cost him his life. I could never imagine my best friend dying; the pain sis so much! Benvolio did all that he could to console me, but when the enemy returned, I saw red. The King of Cats, as high and mighty as he is, came back to gloat. I was so angered (more by sorrow than by anger) by his calmness of the incident that nothing could stop me. It was until only later that I realised what I had done. I am not a superstitious man, but I believe that a dying man's wishes are always upheld. Mercutio, with his last breath, cursed both our houses and I am feeling the brunt of it. Being exiled here in Mantua is like being killed 100 times. I imagine that Juliet is feeing the same, but what about my parents? The torment that they must be going through at this time is unbelievable. I have spoken to the friar and he does nothing but console me; it is, however, in vain. Nevertheless, to see my
romeo and juliet
"How does Shakespeare dramatise Capulet's relationship with his daughter Juliet, of the play's story" In this essay, I am going to examine how Shakespeare dramatises Capulet's relationship with his daughter Juliet in Act one Scene two. This play is about two families and marriage. The play starts with a street fight between two families; the Capulet's and the Montague's. During the play at beginning Capulet and Juliet have a close relationship. Later on Juliet's father wants her to marry Paris even though she is young. Juliet does not disagree with this but also does not accept it. "I'll look to like, if looking move. But no more deep will I endart mine eye than your consent gives strength to make it fly." Therefore Capulet organises a ball so Juliet could meet Paris. But everything goes wrong and Juliet does not have any contact with Paris at all. Instead she sees Romeo who is a Montague and falls in love with him who's family are an enemy to the Capulet's. Because she falls in love with Romeo she does not agree to marry Paris and refuses, which then Capulet becomes aggressive and violent towards Juliet. This is where the relationship falls apart. "Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch! I tell thee what: get thee to church a Thursday, or never after look me in the face." "...wretched pulling fool..." Since what her father said about her disagreeing to not
