Set-Up: Every week you will be given a series of random images and 10 new vocabulary words (to prepare you for an upcoming quiz) that will require you be able to use the words ‘in context’ or to use them to write a short story.

Vocab for the Week of 9/9 (all words are taken from Beowulf, not the SAT list):

  • moor — a tract of open, peaty, wasteland
  • banish — to expel someone from their home land/country
  • spawn — to reproduce (as in birth)
  • exile — a person who has been banished (or expelled) from his/her native land/country
  • quench — to satisfy (as in thirst or a desire)
  • reparation — amends for wrong or an injury; often compensation (money, goods, labor) that a defeated country/army has to pay the winning country/army during war
  • plunder — to rob of goods or valuables by force as in a time of war/battle
  • solace — comfort
  • shroud(s) — cloth(s) used to wrap a body for burial
  • vexed — highly annoyed


  • pick (1) of the (3) images found below
  • write a paragraph+ description (or story) based on it using all 10 of the words on the list
  • add the part of speech in parenthesis [note: you have to look this up based on the definition]
  • make sure all words are used so that the definition is understood/implied

Length: There is no set length, but make sure that you use all 10 words. You are free to write sentences that do not include any of the word to help you develop the overall description/story.

Hint: Go with the image that a) either grabbed your eyes first or b) seems to have a hidden story in it.

Note: Please review words from last week; they will also show up on the next vocab quiz (on Tues). All vocab words (once studied) may be used in future quizzes.

Image #1 (link: http://tinyurl.com/5639fo)

Image #2 (link:  http://tinyurl.com/6z2nwd)

Image #3 (link:  http://tinyurl.com/6oeeme)


28 responses to “W3, #2: VISUAL VOCAB STORY

  1. (Image #2)

    General Papa Smurf was extremely vexed (adj.) and showed his high annoyance on his continence. He had just heard that their mortal enemy Elf people had plundered (verb) the western corner of Smurfland and robbed all the food and flowers from the citizens. This savage act by the elves had spawned (verb) hatred once again and gave rebirth to age-old desire for revenge. This time, General Papa Smurf seethed, mere reparation (noun), or money compensation for the elvs’ evils would not suffice. No amount of reassuring by his fellow generals could give General Papa Smurf any comfort or solace (noun). Just then, a smurf body wrapped in shrouds (noun), as Smurf’s custom of cloths used to wrap for burial, was brought in casually by General Papa’s personal guard. The sight of his own guard’s nonchalance made the General even more angry, and he banished (verb) the guard by expelling him to the land of Elves. The guard had to cross the moor (noun), the huge tract of open, peaty, wasteland, on foot past the western part of Smurfland to reach the land of Elves. The guard learned the hard way how difficult it was to live as an exile (noun), banished from his own country. Still, the General’s desire for revenge was not quenched (verb) and needed to be satisfied. He sat on a rock and drank some rainwater and plotted a murderous raid of his own.


    Mr. Long: You have single-handedly elevated the Smurfs’ story to a level never dreamed of before. Your semantic acrobatics are to be raised to the heavens. Well done, my diction-esque squire.

  2. Warrior Tommy Matthews crouched in the grass. There were no good places to sit and recuperate on these vast, open moors(n). ‘There will be no rest then!’ Tommy thought bravely. He crept along steadily, aware that an enemy could jump out at any moment to take his life. Despite being exiled(v) from Patch due to his disobedience, Tommy continued to secretly fight for his small country… but this was mostly for reparation(n). Not to mention revenge for those savages plundering(v) the place he called home. After a few minutes, the strong warrior came upon a rock. He leaned against it and took out his canteen, the water quenching(v) his thirst.

    But suddenly, out of nowhere, an enemy soldier jumped out! Little Tommy sprang to his feet, his small brave heart beating fast. He felt for his weapon, but it wasn’t there. He would have to fight with his bare hands. He charged at the enemy and struck him mightily, and the man fell to the ground unconscious. As Tommy stood triumphant, he noticed the man wasn’t wearing a uniform. Maybe he too had been banished(v)? Maybe they were even on the same side. No one would ever know. Nevertheless, it was time for Tommy’s next adve-


    Tommy looked up suddenly; his father was back from the bar. He quickly snatched up his toys, but his father had already seen him, “Boy! What have I told you about playing with those stupid things outside? You get inside right now, before I beat you all the way there!”

    Tommy ran in the house. He could hardly understand the slurred words of this monster, but he knew he better get inside quickly. If he was just good enough, maybe his daddy would love him like he was supposed to. But tonight was a bad night, Roger Matthews was more drunk than usual.

    Tommy ran to his mother to find solace(n), but she might has well have not been there at all. She sat in the corner chair, looking like an awful painting. Her blue eyes were darker than ever, but so blank at the same time. Her countenance was dull. No matter how hard Tommy pulled on her dress, she didn’t blink or move.

    “What are you botherin’ her for boy?” Roger dragged the screaming boy away from his mother and threw him on the ground. With one blow after another, it seemed as if the biggest mistake of this awful man’s life was to spawn(v) this little boy. Cries of agony and fear were drowned out by those of rage, and the blank eyes in the corner just stared, as if their dolor and that of their tortured owner could never worsen. This man was more than vexed(v), he was enraged. All for a couple of toys in the yard.

    Those same pale eyes stared at the pulpit as her sister gave a touching eulogy. She didn’t hear it, of course. She was only thinking about the shrouds(n) used to wrap who was so dear. She could have helped him, if she had only just tried. There were people and places meant for victims of what plagued him. That poor, unfortunate, restless soul. What had gone wrong?

    She heard a little sniffle next to her, and for the first time in a long time, reached out to hold little Tommy’s hand. This was probably for the best. Maybe Roger was beyond help. Besides, this child needed somebody, and as long as Roger hit him he wouldn’t have a thing but his toys. Maybe Melanie and Tommy could move past this together; start a new life. Maybe she could be a real mother to him and feel what it was like to really raise a son.

    That’s something called hope, whose face she hadn’t seen in far too long.


    Mr. Long: An emotionally powerful line that wraps up your story. Wow. Hard to not gulp a bit at that moment.

    I love (if you know what I mean) the way your story suddenly shifts gears and becomes a much more serious ‘event’. A tragic story is unfolding, and yet we care deeply about the ‘humanity’ of those involved — especially the young boy.

    The toys offer an interesting way to enter his world. First innocently (like him); then shock (also like him). This is where you grab the reader by the throat: “Besides, this child needed somebody, and as long as Roger hit him he wouldn’t have a thing but his toys.”

    Let me also say this: this story has real potential to become something much bigger than a vocab exercise. Yes, the words were the excuse to write…but you’re onto something special here. Give it some thought. I think you’ll find an audience out there. Maybe for Calliope that gets printed every spring? (hint, hint)

  3. [Image #1]

    Although on the outside he was just a cute face and a wagging tail, to her he was more, he was a companion; a friend. Henry, her precious little puppy, was the only thing that offered her solace [noun] when everything was falling apart. A constant ally who listened but never responded, and had nothing but love in his eyes. No matter how much she cried or screamed or whined he was never vexed [adjective] or impatient. Day after day he stayed by her side, keeping her secrets, absorbing her thoughts, blind to her insecurities. She didn’t think that she fit in anywhere, and in her own house she felt like an exile [noun]. Like a person banished [verb] to a deserted moor [noun], she aimlessly roamed the halls; never seen, never heard. Day by day, year after year, they plundered [verb] her of compassion, chipped away at her sense of belonging. Her heart felt broken and lifeless, wrapped in shrouds [noun], and buried in her body. Still, she had her comrade, whose kindness slowly began to quench [verb] her thirst for love and acceptance. He appreciated her for who she was, and the person she was learning how to become. He taught her to find strength within herself, and forgive. He taught her to accept all reparations [noun] from those who wronged her, and to finally move on with her life. She felt reborn, whole again, like a new person had been spawned [verb]. The stage was set, this was her new chapter, and for once in her life the story was hers.


    Mr. Long: Love the way you layer the descriptive language here. Creates a never-ending sense of discovery as to who this little furry fella is.

    Keep an eye on punctuation (esp. commas and semi colons). This might be an element to focus in on over the year. Also, sometimes you use a phrase that is not a complete sentence. This works well in certain writing, but in formal settings we want to use complete sentences always. Dialog and poetry allows additional options.

  4. (author’s note: i know that this story has a somewhat controversial tone to it: i am not here to change opinions, as i state several times in my story.)


    I am a stubborn Catholic.

    At least I thought I was.

    I had an experience that altered my life and revolutionized the way I saw the world. I’ll share it with you, my friends, and maybe your opinions will change, maybe they won’t. Changing your opinion isn’t my job though. Telling the story is.

    I lived in a nice home. I was relatively rich, and had the perfect American family:an amazing wife and three beautiful children whom I spawned (verb): Michelle, Jude, and Rita. I had the wealth that some dream of. Now don’t get me wrong: I wasn’t rich–I just had enough to live comfortably.

    Things started when the house next door was bought. It had been vacant for a long time, and we hadn’t really known the people who had previously lived there. We didn’t even know that the new owners had moved in until one day when lovely Rita ran inside and yelled, “Daddy, someone’s whistling!”

    Vexed (adjective), I was rushed outside. Sure enough, I could hear someone whistling. I recognized the tune as ‘Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da’ by the Beatles. It was coming from our neighbor’s house. We all looked over the fence to see who was whistling so beautifully.

    At first we didn’t see anyone. The backyard was a massive garden, filled with daisies and lilies and other flowers (I’m not a botanist, so I couldn’t name them all). There were odd garden gnomes (smurfs, pumpkins, and other assorted ceramic creatures), spinning pinwheels, wire insects, and other quirky things. I raised my eyebrows. All of a sudden the whistler came into view. She had soft wavy blonde hair, and a purple shirt that looked like a man’s. Her back was to us.

    When she turned around, I nearly gasped. It was a man! Somewhat hard to distinguish, but definitely a man. He had a slightly feminine face, and his eyes were bright blue. He wore a pleased expression as he bustled around the garden, whistling, tending to plants. The color drained from my face. I sat down, looking at the grass beneath my feet.

    I thought, ‘That man is gay.’

    Suddenly he spoke. “Oh, Charles, don’t go potty on the flowers. Bad kitty.”

    That confirmed it. He was definitely gay. Not so much what he said, but the feminine quality of his voice. So why did I feel this sinking feeling, you ask? Because I thought it was disgusting. I mean, there’s something that honestly feels wrong about gay people. Shouldn’t they control their feelings like the rest of us? That’s what I’ve been taught, anyway.

    The girls looked at my face curiously. “Come on inside, girls,” I said heavily, and they followed.

    I looked back at them as I walked. They had blonde hair that was swinging in the wind, pretty pink dresses covered in roses, and bright, happy, innocent faces, their curiosity momentarily quenched (verb). They had no idea of the problems that had moved in with our neighbor. I couldn’t bring myself to corrupt their sweet childish innocence by telling them.

    I went inside and kissed my wife, Julia, on the cheek. She smiled and touched her cheek on the place that my lips had touched. “What is it, Paul?” she asked in her kind way. I didn’t answer right away. I had no idea how she’d react.

    “Julia,” I said heavily, “the man who moved in next door–he–um–”

    “Oh yes, I was just baking him some of my famous lemon chocolate-chip muffins. I think he’ll like them.”

    I had to say it. “I…have reason to believe he is a homosexual. Or believes himself to be, anyway.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well everyone knows you aren’t REALLY gay, you just…have strange desires that you can easily suppress. This man has a feminine quality to his person that I don’t want the girls exposed to. He believes himself to be…gay. So what should we do?”

    Now, my Julia is a very stubborn woman. She got a look in her eyes that I recognized–she had made a decision. “Well, I’m still giving him the muffins. I baked them–don’t want them to go to waste! Now, about his influencing the children…”

    “Jude must not meet him. Jude is a delicate boy, and he might be turned to the ways of homosexuality.”

    Julia clicked her tongue. “Well, we’ll just have to let life flow, for a while. Nothing we can do about it.”

    Somehow this didn’t give me solace (noun).

    The neighborhood block party happened to be that weekend. I was looking forward to it–my children would play with the neighborhood kids, my wife would trade recipes with the other housewives, and I would drink beer and talk politics with the men. We’d been at the party not 20 minutes when our new neighbor walked up. He was wearing a pink shirt sprinkled with white polka dots. It was probably the gayest shirt you could buy. He smiled his somewhat disconcerting smile and walked straight up to me, to my mortification.

    “Hey there,” he said. “You’re my neighbor, right? Paul Starkey, 1314 Waterford road?”

    “Um, yeah,” I said simply.

    “I’m Austin Melvin,” he beamed, holding out a pale and weak hand. I stared at his hand and at my own, and the contrast that existed there. Mine were hairy, muscular, and had a single gold band on it (my wedding ring)–his was again reminiscent of a woman’s hand: no calluses, boils, blisters, or anything. The only thing on his fingers was a Hello Kitty band-aid. “I cut my finger,” he explained, holding up the wounded digit. “While sewing. I just got a new machine, and it’s…hard to get used to. The threader is just so confusing, and it’s much faster than my other one. The bobbin spins rather strangely, and the needle is hard to loose.”

    The other men grunted. Of course they had no idea of what he was talking about! He might have been speaking Martian for all they knew. We were all bankers, mortgage men, entrepreneurs, and lawyers. We were very conscious of this.

    “So, fellas, how many children do you each have?”

    The men blanched. ‘How many children?’ Was he a molester?

    “The reason is, I was thinking of running a story time every Friday night at my house, in my garden. You see, I love children (my sister just had her second baby) and I’d love to get to know yours! You’re invited as well,” he added.

    We were at a loss for words. Then we all started talking at once: ‘Oh, well, y’see, not sure if we can–‘ ‘My wife, sir, she’s a real nervous wreck about these things–‘ ‘Fridays are usually busy for us, but we’ll see–‘

    “Great!” he grinned. “Well, I hope I see you there!”

    He left then–said he had to go work on some sewing project.

    I went over to the group of wives and told them what Austin had said. They looked at me curiously. ‘What should we do?’ their expressions pleaded.

    Julia took charge. “I think we should all stay calm. Austin does not seem to be a bad man.”

    “How do you know?” someone shouted rudely.

    “I know,” she said, glaring in the general direction of the yell, “because women have a sixth sense. Something that tells us whether to be on our guard, or to relax. I for one am going to send my kids to Austin’s house.”

    Instant murmuring. Disbelief. Did I mention this was probably the most conservative street in Minnesota? Well if I didn’t, take note now. People glared at my wife, widened their eyes in disbelief. I ran up to her and pulled her away by the arm. “What, what?” she asked, confused and irritated.

    I didn’t speak until we had arrived at our house. She stared at me, utterly bewildered. “What is wrong with you?” she asked angrily.

    “What’s wrong with YOU?” I asked in a huff. “I don’t want my kids over at that…that…”

    “Don’t say anything against Austin! He seems like a nice man–”

    “Who wants to hurt my children!”

    “How dare you suggest such a thing–”

    “You’ve seen him, he’s–he’s queer–”

    “Does that mean he intends to harm our children? Where’s the proof in that?”

    I was silent.

    “Besides, I was going to attend myself. You can come too, if you so choose.” I lifted my head. Here was a fool-proof plan.

    “Alright,” I said. “Fine. We’ll try it.”

    * * * * * * * * *

    It was Friday afternoon. The sun was still shining its brightest. Summer was in the air. I had come home from work early to find Julia and the kids baking cookies for the event at Austin’s. Julia had simply looked up as I walked in, then returned to her baking. I could tell she was mad at me. But what could I do? I had my principles–it had just never made sense to me that someone could actually be created gay–they probably just were mentally unstable or something.

    When we got to Austin’s, several families were already there. The Natwicks, with their children; the Harts, with theirs; the Blieses, the Molnaus, and the Muppidis. We were actually the last ones there. Austin smiled really big when he saw us. He was wearing a flowery shirt and blue pants. His hair was wavy and soft as a baby’s, as usual.

    He had set up a stool in the corner of his garden. He sat on the stool when everyone had arrived.

    And began to read.

    His voice was captivating. It was like hearing the words in a dream. He was reading the tale of a poor and plundered (adjective) Scottish knight, lost and searching for the holiest of swords, blessed by God above all others. “And across the moors (noun) he went, searching and searching for that which he could not find. Soon he came to a large cave. In the cave were dead bodies clothed in shrouds (noun), and walls and walls of swords. He thought it was this one, but then another caught his eye, and ooh, that one’s pretty, and wow that one looks great, and suddenly he knew he couldn’t chose. He prayed to God, but God gave no answer. Then he heard a tiny whisper: ‘Listen to your heart.’ That was all. The knight closed his eyes and thought. Thought long and hard. And suddenly he knew which one was right. It was the old, beaten sword over which his eyes had passed. The unexpected was suddenly the answer. That which he had deemed preposterous, was in truth, THE truth.” He looked up at the children, and his eyes gleamed with the thrill of reading aloud, and with the heat of triumph. The children were silent. The parents were silent. I was silent. He had read it so wonderfully, and the story was so beautiful, that I found tears in my eyes.

    I went up to him after everyone else said goodbye. “Hello Austin,” I said awkwardly.

    “Oh, hello, Mr. Starkey,” he said pleasantly.

    “Call me Paul.”

    “Paul, then.”

    “Um…Where you from, Austin?” I asked, hoping to make light conversation.


    “REALLY. I have family down there. Visit often?”

    His face became distant. “N-no. Not often at all. In fact…it’s been years since…”


    Now his face broke into a sad smile. “Well, my parents…they…they didn’t approve of my…my being myself. They thought I was messed up, or crazy, or something along those lines. They didn’t APPROVE, you see. So…they sort of…told me they never wanted to see me again.”

    I paled.

    Austin. Austin had suffered. Austin did not choose to be gay, I couldn’t even ask such a silly question now. It was silly now. Why would someone…risk being banished (verb) by their parents? I looked at Austin, short and feminine, and saw what I hadn’t seen before:

    A warrior.

    Austin was brave. He told me about his childhood, how his classmates teased him because he never wanted a girlfriend, never wanted to do things like play football or grow a beard. He wanted to draw, and design clothes, and color. For this he was ridiculed, taunted, and worse–discouraged. Told, ‘No, you can’t do this, this isn’t what boys do’.

    Austin was a warrior.

    From this I knew: Austin didn’t choose a life like this. Austin would have preferred happiness. He would have preferred ‘normality’. But he was born with other things.

    I suddenly knew what I believed. Like the Scottish knight in the cave, I suddenly saw the sword I had least expected–the truth I could never have believed. Austin was an example of a hero, at least to me. He was an exile (noun), a fierce warrior ready to defend his honor and his very being.

    I apologized to him, giving reparation (noun). He smiled and shook his head. “Do not apologize, because lots of people think I’m disgusting or wrong or crazy. I don’t know myself. I just act as who I am, and let God judge me.”

    Austin, to me, was a brave man. He was simply himself: though he was judged harshly by others, he chose to remain true to that which God had given him.

    Again, I am not here to change your opinion: I am here to tell you Austin’s story and let you judge for yourself.


    Mr. Long:Yes, this is a story that will elicit (to use one of our words) a wide range of responses.

    Considering the tone of your story — and early/late disclaimers — I suspect that your peers’ responses will be measured/honorable…and focus on the ‘quality of writing’ (given that this is a short story, not a political/social debate).

    I will refrain from personally commenting on the subject of the story because, frankly, the quality of your writing technique surpasses whatever I’d come up with tonight. Regardless of how this topic may be received, you have my respect as a writer. This is a powerful example of what happens when a student pushes the ‘minimum’ requirements off to the side and decides to pursue what writing is all about. Something tells me you’re helping — along with a few others over the last 2 weeks — to set the bar for the rest of us.

    BTW, if I were to ask anyone to define “hero” — both in literature and in life — I’d have no problem of using the following part of your story in a blink of an eye:

    “From this I knew: Austin didn’t choose a life like this. Austin would have preferred happiness. He would have preferred ‘normality’. But he was born with other things.”

    A hero (and to be honest, all of us as human beings) does not get to choose his/her lot in life. All a hero or person can do is try to be the most sincere human being and member of society that is possible given their abilities.

  5. As Stevey sat on the step he recalled the days of Dog War II (DW II). He thought to himself what a waste of lives. He could be watching the game with his old buddies if it weren’t for DW II. It wasn’t the same without Scotty, Robby, and Puffy. If it weren’t for the dogs in the next alley they could still be finding solace (n) in each other’s company. Thinking back Stevey remembered very clearly how the Big Dogs (as they were known throughout the community) had plundered (v) their stock of bones and big red, juicy steak. This action had vexed (adj) Robby and every effort on Scotty’s behalf to calm him down had failed. The idea of war began to spawn (v) in Robby’s mind. Puffy tried to banish (v) it saying not to give rise to such absurd ideas. Robby’s mind was made up; he planned to go to war with the Big Dogs. Stevey, Puffy, and Scotty could not let Robby go to war on his own, so they bolstered (vocab from previous week) him instead.

    The four brave friends met the enemy at the moor (n). The open wasteland had strong odor which Scotty detested. He kept telling himself to focus. Robby’s satisfaction for war had finally been quenched (v) as he saw the Big Dogs approaching the tract of open, peaty, wasteland. The four little friends were outnumbered and outmatched. They didn’t last long, but they proved that they were courageous and valiant. The gruesome battle soon came to an end.

    As part of their burial ceremony, Stevey brought out the shrouds (n) to wrap Scotty, Robby, and Puffy. He laid some flowers over their graves and wept. He had just lost his three best friends.

    The Dog Committee of La Varacruise came to a decision that the reparations (n) had to be paid by the Big Dogs. They had to pay back every bone and steak they had plundered. For their punishment, they were exiled (n) or sent away from the neighborhood and told never to return.


    Mr. Long: The first line pulled me in alone. “Dog War II” was a clever twist on a familiar phrase…and a truly unexpected concept based on the photo.

    Clever use of “spawn”, BTW. It fully works but is not the typical use…and thus remains in my memory. Overall you do an excellent job with the vocab choices.

    As outlandish as this story is, it is logical and feels well woven together.

  6. A Classmate's Response to Student #3

    Response to student three. This is my personal opinion, Mr. Long. I hope student three might be told the jist of my response:

    You’re story is great, it’s well written, great shift, really really captivating. The message however, is phenomenal, it gives me solace(nice right) that someone else is open minded, understanding, and tolerant.

    It’s sad that a high school boy like me has to almost hide the fact that I’m totally accepting of that lifestyle not because I am, but because some people see it as just as bad. i just wanted to say I loved your story and it’s topic. Thank you for writing it.


    Mr. Long: I’ll make sure the writer reads your response. I can guarantee you that it’ll be significantly appreciated/valued…and in ways you can’t yet imagine.

    And as I said earlier, the topic is one that will elicit a range of responses (for obvious reasons), and my goal is not to comment in any direction on the topic.

    That being said, we — all of us — are better people when we are able to recognize the quality of a peer’s writing style and human intentions, whether we agree or disagree with the topic.

    Student #3 deserves such respect on both accounts. As do you for how you responded (on many levels).

  7. In the solace (noun) of its own bed, Ranger lay in peace after he had achieved gratitude from his proud owners. This dog was no ordinary dog, it had reached new accolades. It was left behind, in a different city from where it was supposed to be. It all happened because of Rangers curiosity, and one quick movement of a mouse Ranger had gone after it losing its way threw an unknown city. The owner had not realized until she stopped conversing with a friend of hers, by the time she came to the realization Ranger was lost. After awhile, Ranger felt like an exile (noun) in a deserted moor (noun). Realizing what he had done, he immediately new he was on his on quest. For once he decided where to go, not the leash that tightly rubbed against his neck. Ranger had quenched (verb) his desire to explore on his own.

    The owners were extremely anxious when they went to the pound to see if anyone had done the good deed of returning their Ranger. They became very vexed (adj) to find that Ranger was nowhere in sight. The owners suspected someone had plundered (verb) Ranger, after desperately searching the street for the sixth time. For a split second, they had a hunch. That Ranger was dead, the owners couldn’t imagine Ranger be wrapped in shrouds (noun). “HEY”, a bystander said swiftly. “Are you the owners looking for the small Dachshund, I saw him about thirty minutes ago down three blocks down”, said the bystander. Without a breath the owners jumped into their two door automobile and raced down the street looking for Ranger.

    Ranger had his fair share of an exploration. Ranger was now looking for reparation (noun). And like what no ordinary dog would be able to do, Ranger found his way home. It was dusk by the time he had arrived at the front door, and was ready to relax. While the owners had new hope, Ranger decided to take a cat nape in the lawn because he could barely stand on his four paws.

    It had been two and a half hour, and the owners where clueless. The sky was beginning to darken, and the hopes started to fall. The owners decided to retreat back to their home. The ride home was unpleasant; both were frustrated as another day went by with no sign or direction of where Ranger could be. “LOOK!” one of the owners screamed at the top of his lungs. As their dreams were fulfilled, their Ranger was in sight. No more pacing down streets, and no more searching down endless streets.

    It has been three years since this adventure of Rangers. Since then, ranger has spawned (verb) two more pups that were even more adventurous and curious. The owners have not made the same mistake since.


    Mr. Long: Great use of the vocab. Also, I appreciate how you structure the various paragraphs to help the story unfold. Each acts as a mini-world of its own and the transitions are quite logical.

  8. Duncan Lucifer was his name. A lonely individual and a seemingly normal person. He had no friends at school, and the teachers have wondered why they have never seen his parents before. He was very reticent; in fact, no one has ever seen him talk before. He was also unusual is size. It’s not that he’s super tall or super fat; it’s just that he was noticeably larger than everyone else. If he was put in a picture, he would look like a normal-sized person, but if he was put next to someone, one could easily see a difference. He had green eyes and wore the same clothes everyday. Overall, nobody cared about him, and nobody hated him. That is why I decided to try to be his first friend.

    Maybe it was him who wanted to be my friend. I was new to the school, and on the first day, I couldn’t help but notice him. Despite his unusual size, he kept looking at me throughout the whole day. Because of my nature, and because I was new to the school, I decided to take advantage of the situation. So on the second day, I walked up to him and said, “Hey, what’s your name?” No answer. I asked him again. No answer. So I just walked away. Now I know that there is something seriously wrong with this guy. So what will I do now?

    I somehow got this idea one day that I would follow him home from school. After the bell rang, I searched for him and saw him already walking away from school. I lingered for a bit, and then followed him from a distance.

    But something was wrong. He was walking directly towards the town moor (n.) where the grass was never cut and where the lazy people threw their trash. He walked through moor on a rock path, which lead to a pitiful and dilapidated house. OK, so this is where he lived. He walked inside, and a few moments later, I snuck towards his house hoping not to be seen. As I approached his house, the door opened. It was him. At first I thought he would be vexed (adj.); he was minding his own business and someone just has to stick his nose into it. But I saw his face as a welcoming one, and so I decided to accept his invitation and walk into the house.

    To my surprise, the interior of the house was neat and clean, and provided a feeling of solace (n.). On the floor to the left, a shroud (n.) laid wrinkled on the floor, partially covering some over-sized stamps. I lifted the shroud, glanced at the pictures on the stamps, and I looked at him for an answer.

    “These are all the people I’ve killed so far,” he said. That reply came to me like a slap in the face. Not only did he talk, but what he said was…what? “What?” I replied. “What did you say?” “What do you mean you ‘killed’ them?” “To quench (v.) my thirst,” he finally answered. I felt myself become less and less comfortable. “I am an exile (n.),” he continued. At my home, during a great war, I plundered (v.) the enemy’s stash of diamonds, causing the war to become worse. In the end, we lost, and as reparation (n.), the new elders have decided to banish (v.) me from my home.” He kept going. “I became lonely, and after time, I found that killing others is the only way to make me feel content. By now, my kind has already spawned (v.) to the point of overpopulation so I have no chances of going back home. But I cannot kill myself. If I do, I will definitely go to hell.” He paused. He stared into my eyes.

    “That’s why you’re here.”


    Mr. Long: Nice to see words from previous weeks, BTW.

    Interesting set-up with the character being someone that nobody liked, yet that nobody hated either. An intriguing way to create a ‘neutral’ tension.

    I just saw the original To Kill a Mockingbird on Friday night. Your story reminds me of that wonderful film on some levels.

    Wow. Powerful and unexpected ending!

  9. Okay so im going to do a description this time instead of writing a whole story….i think that is okay. And I guess a description would still be complete sentences and everything but just describing how the picture looks right? Okay well that’s what im going to do.


    To start off with this cute little dog is definitely not in a moor (n) or wasteland! This cute little guy…lets call him peanut lives in what seems to be a city. Peanut is living in solace (n) because his owner Margie takes extra good care of him. You can tell he is a pampered pooch by the way that little jacket is wrapped around him like a shroud (n) is wrapped around a pharaoh for burial. Whatever moma dog spawned (v) him and brought him into the world must be proud! He is one of the most famous dogs in the city! Peanut quenched (v) his desire to be on tv at an early age when he starred in commercials for Doggie Outerwear. His daddy dog would have been proud too. To bad daddy got sent to the pound after he couldn’t give reparation (n) or compensate for biting that little girl down on 12th street. With no daddy dog moma dog was forced to plunder (v) and steal food and money just to get by and support Peanut. Moma dog loves Peanut and risked exile (n) to a whole other pound across the ocean just to support Peanuts dream. Thankfully she was never banished (v) or expelled from the city and has stayed ever since to help Peanut land acting jobs. Some other dogs are vexed (adj) or annoyed when they find out Peanut has such a great life, but then they hear his this background story and immediately change their mind. So next time you see a commercial for Doggie Outerwear and see Peanut strutting his stuff remember that he started humbly and worked very hard to get to where he is today.

  10. The story was that the dog lived with a very good owner. The two of them lived in solace(n). It was during the depression, an economic battle, that the owner was plundered(v) and lost all of his belongings. All he had was this dog. There was no reperation(n)for the stealing, so he was not able to get his money and his belongings back. He was banished(v) from his house not being able to pay the bills and became an exile(n). He went to a moor(n) where other people wrecked by the depression lived. After a day or two, the soup kitchens were not providing enough food to quench(v) the man’s desire to fill his stomach. His dog however made his days very enjoyable, unlike all the vexed(adj) citizens that complained that they wanted more food. Pretty soon, all the people began to say things like they wanted to start making shrouds(n) for themselves. The people then began to see the owner and his dog and how much fun they were having. Everyday day everone would gather around the owner and his dog, seeing the dog do tricks. Everone wished the dog would spawn(v) into more dogs so that the may have fun too. This dog kept the lives of many people up, during a time of economic hardship.

  11. Image 3:
    (Setting: a hospital room in Atlanta, Georgia. Situation: Doug, the brother of Jaclyn and Megan, has been in an accident, and Jaclyn has just arrived after ending her vacation early.)

    Jaclyn: Doug! My goodness how did you do this to yourself? How can I help you? I brought you these superhero trading cards. They’re just like the ones mom used to buy when you would get sick to make you feel better. Did you…..
    Doug: Jackie calm down. I was in a car accident, but it wasn’t my fault. I am expecting the other driver to give me some sort of reparation (noun). Thanks for the cards Sis. They really do bring back memories. That really is a solace (verb).
    Jaclyn: Megan said you only had a 50/50 chance of survival, I was so worried. What are the chances now?
    Doug: It’s pretty much 100% that I am going to be fine. Your worry is making me kind of vexed (verb) though.
    Jaclyn: Sorry Doug, its just I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to have to put another person that I loved in the ground. To shroud (verb) another person I love in that burial cloth would be unbearable.
    Doug: Jaclyn, don’t you think you need to start getting over Chad and Kevin. It’s been 5 years since they died, and you haven’t done anything to move on. You plundered (verb) their belongings and built a shrine to them in your closet. That’s unhealthy Jackie; you need to get on with your life.
    Jaclyn: Don’t say that! You know nothing bout what I have gone through. I lost my only love and the child I spawned (verb) with him. You have no right to judge me like that and I can’t just banish (verb) them from my thoughts.
    Doug: Jackie, I’m not saying you have to completely exile (verb) them from your memories, but you need to move on. Your live has become a moor (noun) since the accident.
    Jaclyn: I don’t want to move on because when I do that means I am forgetting them. I want to live in their memory and quench (verb) the thirst they had for life. How can I move on knowing that?
    Doug: I know it seems hard, but it doesn’t mean you are forgetting them if you move on.
    Jaclyn: But…
    (Enter Megan)
    Megan: Hey you guys… (Notices Jaclyn’s tear stained face) what’s wrong, Jackie? What happened?
    (Jackie runs out of the room)
    Megan: Doug what did you do to her? You already made her come home from her vacation and now this? I know it’s not your fault, but can’t you just be a little more sympathetic? She knows loss neither of us knows and we should help her.
    Doug: I guess you’re right, it’s just…
    Megan: I know its hard Doug, but it’s what families do.

    To be continued (again)…….

  12. (Image # 1)

    As Mighty Dog sat waiting in the wide open moor (noun), no one around could have guessed of the mess Mighty Dog had encountered today. As the day began Mighty Dog got the news he would be banished (verb) from his dog house, he had been causing to much ruckus. He was now an exile (noun) of his own land. It was almost as if his landlord had plundered (verb) his home; everything of his was gone. He was trying to find solace (noun) in this new found challenge, when suddenly he had a plan. He would try and pay a repartition (noun) to his landlord. He thought this would quench (verb) the landlord’s desire for a better renter. Mighty Dog found his landlord basking in the sun. Mighty Dog told him of his idea which the landlord soon became very vexed (verb) at. The landlord had spawned (verb) a new found hatred for Mighty Dog. His day could not have been any worse, he decided being wrapped up in shrouds (noun) mighty have actually called for a better day. He now sat recalling the adventure he had been given today, and realized he was much happier now in his new found home.

  13. Mac looked down at the dog who was staring at him with it’s huge, hopeful eyes. “Look ye wee doggie, ah don’t have any o the sweet meat for yeh today.” He muttered in his thick highland accent. He had emigrated to America when he was 10 but even so he could still remember the moors (n) and his old faithful hound lil’Jimmy. He was dead now along with Mac’s father and mother.

    They had been banished (v) from Scotland when his father had accidentally helped an IRA member who was injured. The police had found him later and when they asked who had helped to treat his wound the criminal had told them about Mac’s father and how kind he had been. Mac and his family had been given 24 hours to get out of the country or else they would be arrested. So Mac and his family had been forced into exile (n) and had come to America. Mac’s parent’s had died from the flu, however, and he had been left on his own. Without the public school system, he would not have gotten anywhere today.

    Right now, he was operating his Newspaper stand in Grand Central station, and he saw the little dachshund that always came and begged for food from him. He was also aware that the dog was a female, since he had seen her and her spawn (n) walking around sometimes. It was very odd because no one seemed to mind them. Cats, rats, and bums were all chased away, but the dogs were left alone. The little dogs often slept next to Mac’s kiosk, so he was always aware of their needs. He kept a little water dish out so that the dog could quench (v) her thirst at will. He and the dog got along quite well, the dog coming to Mac when it was hungry or thirsty, and Mac having the dog to comfort him, when he was lonely or sad.

    One night however the dog didn’t come around 6:00 for her usual feeding time. Mac got offf work at 7:00 and when seven rolled around he went looking for the dog. He knew where she made her home, right behind a deli, and when he went to look their he found her nest he saw that it was plundered (v) of all of the nest lining and bones that the dog had collected over the years that she had lived there. He immediately got very angry and vowed to make whoever had done this pay reparations (adj) accordingly. Mac looked everywhere for his little friend but he couldn’t find any trace of her.

    Pretty soon, however he started hearing a whimpering sound coming from behind his kiosk. He looked behind the counter and saw the little dog staring up at him with baleful eyes. He inspected her carefully and saw that something had torn her leg up pretty badly. he took some solace (n) in that it was not badly infected and had not ruptured any arteries. Mac immediately took his friend to the vet and got her cleaned up. The doctor was very vexed (adj) but he owed Mac a favor so he cleaned up the little dog for free. Then Mac went back to the scene of the crime, the dog’s nest.

    Even though it was shrouded (v) in darkness, he could just make out the shape of the nest. He waited for a time, until he heard the sound of scrabbling nails on the hard floor. He had a flashlight with him and when he turned it on he saw the biggest sewer rat he had ever seen. He picked up a loose tile and threw at the rat. He was a remarkable shot with rocks and he hit the rat square between the eyes. The rat then keeled over, out cold. He then took the rat and threw it into the train tracks where a train promptly ended the annoyance to both Mac and the little dog. Soon the little dog got better and returned to Grand Central. Their was one change however. She now makes her home behind Mac’s kiosk so that if she ever needs help, it is only one squeal away.

  14. (Image #1)

    Preston lived in New York City, the city that never sleeps!
    He loved it there, meeting all different kinds of people and finally feeling free to live his own life. Preston was spawned (v) and raised in a small suburb in Connecticut. Nothing interesting ever happened, which kept him constantly vexed (adj). That’s why Preston was so excited when he and his owner, well mostly his owner, decided to move to Manhattan. He was ready to quench (v) his thirst for adventure!
    Olivia, Preston’s possessor, had just finished moving into her apartment. “Everything is perfect,” she exclaimed to Preston. He wagged his tail in excitement; knowing he would always live happily with Olivia. He provided solace (n) to Olivia in times of need. He also shared in her joy.
    It was a Saturday morning. Preston was ready to go on his morning walk. Olivia put his cute little blue leash on him and headed out the door. They took a leisurely walk around the park and before they knew it, it was time for lunch. They were almost home, when Olivia exclaimed “Oh! I almost forgot to pick up some food for you Preston.”
    “Good thing she remembered because I could have starved,” he pondered. Preston always was a bit overly dramatic.
    “Wait right here, I’ll be back in a flash,” she said to Preston. Olivia tied his leash to a rail outside the convenience store.
    Much time had passed. Preston had grown tired. In actuality, it had only been 10 minutes since Olivia had left, however Preston was very hungry!
    He drifted off to sleep and instantly began to dream.
    “Ahhh!” Preston thought when he opened his eyes. He was on a pirate ship with huge waves surrounding him. Preston saw a big, bearded man named Captain Hue.
    “Well don’t just stand there! Get back to work!” the captain shouted. Preston didn’t know what to think; pirates were bad men who plundered (v) the seas. But Preston, not wanting to get into trouble, tried to blend in and work with the other pirates. Time passed. He was filthy and exhausted. Preston looked for a place to lie down and he spied some cloth that looked very comfortable. He sat on it, but something wasn’t right. Preston soon realized that someone else was using the cloth, but not for the same reason he was! It was a shroud (n) with a dead pirate in it. Gross! That was all that Preston could think about.
    “Hey!” someone shouted, “he isn’t a pirate, he is a dog!” Preston was alarmed by the tone of his voice.
    After all what was wrong with dogs?!
    Captain Hue came out and yelled “What’s all the commotion about?”
    “There is a dog on the ship! He can’t be a pirate; he is just a little dog!”
    “Hey,” thought Preston, I’m not little, just a bit challenged in the height department.
    “Your right,” Captain Hue declared, “banish (v) him and leave him on the next island.” Oh no, Preston thought, what should I do? Perhaps, I’ll offer Captain Hue reparation (n), maybe a squeaky toy, or some tasty kibble?
    Sadly, that didn’t help.
    Well, there wasn’t much a little dog could do at this point. He was sitting all alone on the sand. The pirate ship was still in the distance. I’m just an exile (n), Preston surmised. I miss Olivia!
    He started to whimper when all of a sudden he heard a loud clap of thunder. Great, now I’m going to get all wet, he thought. Preston immediately searched for shelter, but the whole island was a smelly moor (n). What a sad excuse for an island thought Preston. “Preston, Preston!” A familiar voice shouted.
    Who are you? Preston thought. Show your face!
    Preston opened his heavy eyelids. There he saw Olivia with a bag of dog chow, poking him in the side. “Aw, you poor thing! You must be so tired. I was only gone for 15 minutes though.”
    It felt like forever Preston thought. How could you leave me alone for so long, you know I have a vivid imagination!
    “C’mon, let’s go home, Preston! We can watch Pirates of the Caribbean!”
    Noooo…Preston squealed!

  15. Hi my name is Henry and I am a the luckiest dog in the world. I live with a family who loves me very much and i also have a wife she lives with me in my dog house mansion. We have been together just a few months and I knew we were in love the night we ate spaghetti and we ate the same noodle and there was only one meatball left and we both offered it to one another. But one day after coming home from the vet I found a shroud (n.) laying on the floor and went to look for Lucy and she was getting wrapped in it. It was the worst day of my life I didn’t eat for days and the owners I used to love to be around didn’t mean as much to me anymore, as a matter of fact nothing did anymore without Lucy. One day I decided I was going to go see the world and see what people who are alone like me behave. So i headed to a moor (n.) I had seen heading back from the vet. As I got there I just sat there and felt like an exile (n.)for the first time in my life. I know I hadn’t been banished (v.) but i knew I had lost half of me. So I was determined to get it back even though Lucy was gone I was going to live life for the both of us. Even though when i remember the overwhelming amount of comfort or solace (n.) she gave me I knew i needed to it. So I started walking and people would look at me and awwwwed and oooohed your so cute and I would just keep walking and pretend that they weren’t being highly annoying or vexed (adj.) While walking down the crowded streets with my body suit and leash I felt pretty cool for the first time in awhile. I felt as if they knew about Lucy and were giving me reparation (n.) for my loss. So days went by and I was starting to be known as the “City’s Dog.” My thirst was always quenched (v.) because I always got water from the old man in the alley and I got food from Nancy from the pet store and had a different sleeping area every night. I thought I was living the life until one day as I was walking myself down the street i noticed a beautiful toy poodle walking around on her own. I was hesitant to go talk to her but I decided if I got the chance I needed to take advantage of it. So i went up to her and said “Excuse me are you lost?” She turned and looked at me and said “Pardon you but i have lived on the streets my whole life and know exactly what i am doing so if you dont mind why dont you just take a hike.” Henry just looked and said”Well i have only lived on the streets a few months so if you dont mind could i please walk around with you i haven’t had anyone to talk to in forever?” She looked and said”You better be able to keep up and dont complain at all.” Henry smiled and followed her. She didn’t say anything to him and just kept walking. So he asked her if she was born on the street or just decided to come on her own? She said that she was left in a box when she was little and lost her friend about a few months ago. He said in the nicest way possible as to not get her mad, he said “I know what you are going through my wife died 7 months ago and its been really hard for me.” She looked at him and said “Your the first dog i have ever talk to who knows what I’m going through and trust me i have meet a lot of dogs.” They began to walk and stopped in there foot steps as they watched the old man,who gave them water, get plundered (v.) by a guy in a mask and all of a sudden they both jumped up and attacked the man and he dropped the old mans wallet and the dogs brought it back to him. The old man was so thankful he went and bought the biggest bag of dog food the two dogs had ever seen and a dog house with one big bed in it. They licked the man and ran to the open field he had set up their new house in. They ate and sat side by side looking at the sun. They knew they were both going to be ok now that they have each other. After a year of being with one another they had spawn (v.) three little puppies two boys and one girl. They were then the reason behind the new Dogs with a Purpose Foundation. The foundation was for dogs found on the streets they would be taken in and feed and found a good family to be loved by. As for Henry and his new wife they remained in the open field with their new baby puppies. The field remained untouched and was known as “The Field of Dreams and Hope.”

  16. Image 1

    As he sat next to the door, the dog seemingly banished (verb) from the land of Chihuahuas, he sought to find a home. As an exile (noun) Pepe has thoughts of revenge from his homeland. He needs to build up an army to plunder the moor (noun) next to his for kingdom. When he woke up he was somewhat wrapped up in a shroud (noun) and was given up for dead. This vexed (verb) Pepe. He needed to quench (verb) his revenge for his former comrades, After that he would lie in solace (noun). After having no reparation (noun) for his departure and having no spawn (noun)

  17. A tiny blue warrior peaked at the landscape from behind thick shrubbery. All he could see was the vast, open stretch of the moor (noun) that was before him.

    “No sign of an enemy target, chief,” a tiny voice emanated from a miniature walky talky slung around his shoulders.

    The blue chief narrowed his eyes, suspicion clouding them. He was called Papa Smurf, and he was the chief and the caretaker of this village. The village was in a crisis. The droughts were more frequent now; it was dry, hot, and even the trees were beginning to wither. The insect populace had moved to other regions due to the horrible conditions, and so the smurfs were left with no food source. Water was scarce.

    Bad times had brought out the worst in the villagers. Many resorted to stealing, and others fought amongst themselves for food. Primal instincts had been spawned (verb) among the once peaceful smurfs. To make matters worse, a youngling had organized a band of other rebellious and desperate villagers to plunder (verb) their emergency food stores. Over the years, many hard working smurfs had gathered and hoarded extra food. The food from this supply was only to be distributed equally among all the villagers in case of an emergency. The band that this youngling had organized had planned to rob the stores and leave the rest of the village with nothing. This was an act of treachery, mutiny, and utmost dishonor; the chief had been forced to banish (verb) the leader of the uprising and imprison the followers.

    However, the treacherous and now exiled (adjective) smurf had created an alliance with an enemy village. The inhabitants of this village were strange… they were known as the “pumpkin-heads.” The pumpkin-heads had sent a message to Papa Smurf only days before, announcing their coming arrival and plan of revenge. This was perhaps the most important battle of Smurf history. If Papa Smurf lost, his people would definitely pay the price. He knew what the enemy village would demand in return for their victory: a terrible reparation (noun) in which he would have to give up all his food and sacrifice his people as slaves. Much was on the line.

    Papa Smurf looked down at the belt that held his spear and canteen in place. There was only a little bit of water left… but it was so hot…

    He picked up the canteen and fingered the cap roughly. He took a quick swig, quenching (verb) his thirst and wetting his cracked lips. The fire in his throat dimmed slightly, but roared immediately when the flow of water stopped. Ahh! This thirst was so painful. And then the sun… the blazing, hot, melting sun that would not stop basking the area in heat…

    The walky talky was the only thing that broke Papa Smurf’s daydream. The sound of whistling arrows pierced his ears. “POSITIONS! POSITIONS! ENEMIES ARE ATTACKING! GET DOWN!”

    His eyes snapped open. All around him, tiny blue bodies flung themselves out of harm’s way, away from the piercing tips of the flying arrows. Blue and orange clashed, warriors collided, flinging themselves towards the enemy, battling with everything they had. There was little to risk, but so much to lose.

    Eventually, the tide of battle turned in favor for Papa Smurf and his village. They began beating the enemy back, driving them away from the borders of their village. A resounding cheer sounded as they successfully drove the last pumpkin-head warrior from their territory.

    A few hours passed in which the smurfs counted their casualties and mourned for the ones who had died in battle. Only two had died (The death toll could have been much worse, Papa Smurf thought forlornly), and ten had suffered crippling injuries.

    The villagers wrapped the two brave smurfs in a beautiful shroud (noun) that was made of their finest cloth. No amount of solace (noun) could comfort Papa Smurf. He knew that the enemy would eventually return, and even though they had won a victorious first battle, it was a bittersweet one. The villagers held hands in a circle around the two brave warriors who had given their lives to defend their homeland.


    David slammed the door of his car.
    “Ugh,” he said under his breath.

    His boss had demanded him to work overtime, his car had broken down a few days before, and the stock markets from his portfolio were plummeting. Could this week get any worse? It seemed as if everything in the world was challenging him, trying to make him more vexed (adjective) than he already was!

    David marched up to the driveway of his home, a slight string of profanity escaping his lips. He had been so occupied for the past week he had forgotten to water the potted plants sitting outside the door. They were withering in the intense heat. The plants and any inhabitants in the garden were probably dying.

    He ran his eyes over the flora, surveying their condition. A torn, misshapen piece of brown paper in one of the flower pots caught his eye. Curious, David bent forward and saw that it was a Twix wrapper.

    “Huh?” His six year old son Eddie absolutely loathed Twix. Why would there be a wrapper in one of his flower pots?

    Upon closer examination, David saw tiny, blue figurines around the base of the plant’s stem. They had been obscured by the leaves until he had leaned in.

    Well, that was certainly strange. Eddie had given up playing with these kinds of toys over a year ago. Shrugging, David reached in and grabbed the Twix wrapper. He didn’t want trash lying around in his flowers. As he did so, two more figurines tumbled out from the folds of the wrapper. How odd.

  18. The vexing (adj) clash of Batman and the Joker was getting on the townspeople’s nerves. But after Batman eventually banished (v) the Joker from the city, the townspeople were solaced (v) by knowing that the city was finally safe. Black Jack has now come into the visual range of Aquaman, whose thirst is always quenched (v) by the surrounding water. As they clashed, a shroud (n) of bubbles formed around them. Their battle caused much disaster, to which no reparation (n) was to be paid. As usual with superheroes, the archenemy, Black Jack, was exiled (v) from the waters. Back on land, Penguin was plundering (v) a local bank. This was a perfect job for the Flash. Eight hundred miles away, from a moor (n) (wasteland), came the Flash in a split second. Penguin turned around, and to his surprise, the superhero was standing in front of the entrance. The two battled in the bank. After the Flash’s victory, a feeling of triumph spawned (v) from the townspeople.

  19. “Ugh! This writer’s block is killing me. I have a deadline that just so happens to be the day after tomorrow and I can’t think of anything!” The comic book writer thought to himself. He had gone through hundreds of ideas today only to banish (verb) them from my thoughts for being inadequate. He once more looked up at his bulletin board in hopes of getting some inspiration form the several comic book covers hanging there. He could find none and once more got back to trying to write his story. He started a couple more unsuccessful story lines and then just decided to go to bed and try again in the morning.

    Being highly vexed (adj), his annoyance kept him awake for longer than he wished until finally he fell asleep. His sleep however did not bring him solace (noun) for his worries followed him into his dreams.

    The next thing he knew he was standing in the middle of a moor (noun). Land when on as far as the eye could see. The comic book writer looked around him and saw nothing. He strained his eyes in hope of seeing something that could help him. As he looked he suddenly saw what looked like a large dirt cloud coming towards him.

    He waited knowing whatever it was would reach him eventually. A few minutes latter he suddenly felt a sword pressed against his throat. A booming voice quickly followed the sword.

    “And who is this? An exile (noun) perhaps, maybe future slave?” The voice asked. He was to terrified to answer, still staring at the sword placed at his throat.

    “Answer me!” The voice cried while adding pressure to the sword. Blood trickled down the young mans neck as he answered:

    “My name is Paul. I am not sure where I am and would greatly appreciate some help out of here back to my home.” He answered, talking quite slowly thinking that they were possibly uneducated barbarians. I mean come on why would you still use swords when there was much better technology available. This added to his curiosity about where he could possibly be.

    “I will help no one who talks to me like I am a lowly uneducated fool.” For the first time he realized he was speaking to a female.

    “I didn’t mean it that way I didn’t know!”

    “I should leave you out here to die for insulting me! No one insults the queen of the Vikings.” And with that statement the queen finally showed herself. She was definitely a warrior. She wore mail under her leather shirt and had a shield strapped to her hours that matched the sword she still had pointed at his neck. She also had a gold band with a single ruby set in the center placed around her forehead.

    “No, no my lady please don’t leave me out here!” he begged.

    “And why shouldn’t I?”

    “I will do anything, pay any pension (noun), whatever you wish just please don’t leave me out here.” He knew he was starting to sound pathetic, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to survive.

    “Hmm. Anything I wish? You should not have promised me that stranger because now you have to hold to your word or die.” She replied menacingly. He now saw his mistake. She could tell him to do anything from being a slave for life to killing himself on the spot. But he stuck with it hoping to find a way out of this strange place.

    “I will stay true to my word my lady, anything you wish.”

    “I wish for you to go and find the monster that has been plundering (verb) and killing my people and destroy it. Free them from their misery and you can go free, if you fail lets just say that we will have a lovely burial shroud (noun) awaiting you.”

    When he heard her request he just about passed out. He was just a simple guy from New York, not a great Norse hero. He stood there with his mouth agape staring at the queen. She chuckled.

    “That face is quite amusing. Here is your sword, shield, and horse I wish you luck mysterious stranger.” With this she walked away and Paul mounted his horse, picked a random direction and started to ride.

    As he road he thought about all the stories he had herd about and read that had a hero killing a dragon. He needed some strategy if he was going to survive this battle.

    After riding a long while he started to notice a foul stench in the air and he realized that he was getting close. He rode a couple more minuets and found himself at the face of a cave. It was so cliche he would have laughed if he hadn’t been so terrified.

    He dismounted his horse sword in hand and slowly approached the cave. He only had to walk a few feet to catch site of the monster. Someone most have spawned (verb) with the devil to create this horrible creature. It was hunched over murmuring to its self. It had horrible claws and looked as if its flesh was completely burned while it also had decaying bones sticking out in odd places.

    He slowly approached it hoping to catch the beast by surprise and then be off, but he was not that lucky. As he took his next step forward he heard a load crack. He looked down and realized he had stepped on something and was disgusted when he realized it was a human arm bone.

    The monster turned and started bounding towards the intruder angry that anyone would dare enter his domain. Paul stuck out his sword and just as the monster was about to attack he closed his eyes and was suddenly back in his room.

    “It was just a dream.” He told himself relieved.

    He sat in his bed a moment longer before realizing that his night last night and his dream would make a perfect comic. He quickly went to the kitchen to quench (verb) his thirst and then sat down at his desk and began his story.

  20. (image #1)

    ‘Oh how I wish for the forgiveness of my master who has banished (v) me from his home,’ thought poor little Chloe, the dachshund. If only I could give him some sort of reparation (n) for my wrong doings and show him I sincerely am sorry for plundering (v) food from the neighbor’s house once again. If only he knew all I wanted was solace (n), to be loved and comforted. Yet here I am, an exile (n) in this moor (n), abandoned, not knowing where I am or what to do in this scary world. If only my master knew that I was to spawn (v) little puppies in just two weeks. All I can think about is quenching (v) my thirst with some water! I am so vexed (adj) with myself for disobeying my master for if I hadn’t I would have a place to live! I might as well find a shroud (n) and bury myself right now… If only I could find my master and express to him my sincere apology and hopefully, be forgiven.

  21. There once were three Smurfs who lived happily in the Golden Smurf Valley. These three Smurfs were part of a village that lived peacefully with (solace)(n) and never had to worry about fighting or famine. The Smurfs were oblivious to the outside world that they never saw what was coming. An evil witch, from the barren (moor)(n) of the outside world, stumbled upon the joyful village. Upon seeing the happiness that the Smurfs shared, the witch was envious of the inhabitants of the village and was (vexed)(adj) that she could not have such happiness for her heart had turned so black and cold from the outside world. She sought to destroy them.

    The evil witch found the river that supplied the Smurfs with water and extracted a vial from the folds in her clothing. She emptied the vile substance it contained into the water and cackled at what she had done. It was only a matter of time before the three young Smurfs made their way to the river to (quench)(v) their thirst with the sweet water of the river. Sure enough, the Smurfs came to the river the next day to drink the cool water and fill their pitcher to take back to the village. As the water touched their lips they began to feel as if death swept them off their little feet. The three Smurfs fell lifeless into the river and were washed downstream towards the village. They were found by a farmer and taken to the village to be mourned and wrapped in (shrouds)(n) for burial. This was what the witch had wanted and at midnight during the next full moon she went to the graveyard where the caskets had been buried. She quickly found the newly dug graves and uttered incantations over them upon which a mysterious glow emanated from the graves.

    That night the Smurfs (spawned)(v) from the graves with a feeling of emptiness inside them. The next morning they wandered into the village to see shocked villagers, amazed and scared, at seeing the three Smurfs walking once again. The three Smurfs could not feel the joy that once before, filled their hearts. They were consumed by the evil of the witch’s spell and wreaked havoc on the happy village. They (plundered)(v) the village, taking whatever they wanted. There was not any (reparation)(n) that could be made for the horrible things they did and the villagers (banished)(v) the three. The mindless Smurfs did not take kindly to being (exiles)(n) and were very angry with the villagers.

    Upon wandering the outer rim of the valley with hatred in their hearts, they came across an old woman. She greeted them and they talked to her about their troubles and she offered to help. She gave them each a magic potion which she said would make them great. They each drank a potion and felt a surge of strength flow through them and then they grew to an amazing size. The grew fangs and claws and were turned into monsters under the command of the witch. She ordered them to destroy the village and the order was obeyed.

  22. ‘Man’s best friend is the dog.
    A girls best friend is a diamond.
    Then, what is the best friend of both men and women? A crystal in form of a corgi by Swarkovski? Somhow women have managed to mix both diamonds and dogs. Nowadays the even canines are wearing diamond collars and little dresses with lace.
    I work for the “Poochy’s Wardrobe”, a dog clothing store. And I hate every moment of it.’
    “Alana?”, I turned around as I heard my boss call me. I looked up from my forbidden, dating website blogging. “Please step into my office,” my boss, Caroline, asked of me.
    A great line, wonder what trouble I was in now. I was extremely vexed (v), not only because I couldn’t finish my blog but also because Caroline doesn’t have anything better to do than to dictate me.
    “ Alana, your work has been less than quenching (v), this past month and I thought I made myself clear about the blogging situation.” In my mind, Caroline was the woman that the character in “The Devil wears Prada”, was modelled after. She was the skinny, pale, black haired, grey eyed, mid forties, rich lady out of a modern day fairytale. It was almost like, I was Cinderella, in American Eagle and she, the evil stepmother in Chanel.
    “So, I have no other choice than to,”… yes, the moment I have been waiting for. Caroline sighed and stared at the pen in her hands. Come on, spit it out, make me leave! Please?
    “Even though this was a tough decision, you are the only worker here who knows the store, so I you are going to be the manager, while I am in Asia getting more fabrics for the designs.”
    My mouth hit the floor. It was not the expected answer. It wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear at all. Caroline smiled her evil smile. Her lips painted red showed her real intentions. Oh, I know what game you are playing. She is going to make me work more, so I would have to stay here, knowing that I hate this place more than my nightmares.
    “Now, go help Mrs. Norris. She has a new spawn (n) of puppies, and she needs ‘cute, little collars’.”
    “ I was promoted instead of fired! Promoted!” I shouted one more time, as if to make my point better. “Are you even listening to me?” I asked, hands on my hips and looking down at Ben with scorn.
    “I heard you, I just don’t see why its such a problem.” He answered without looking at me, continuing sketches for a new building. I stared at him for a while. He finally looked up. “Oh, come on! We can finally pay the rent full and maybe get an upgraded car. See the benefits!” I just stared back.
    “You are supposed to solace (v) me! And the reason it’s a problem is because I hate that crazy witch, I hate that store, I hate those old ladies that come in and want diamond collars and little shoes! I hate it more than I do you!” Ben gave me a look of surprise and then went back to work.
    “Okay, I shouldn’t have said that but you have to understand that I hate my job more than…” I gave up. I couldn’t think of anything that could be worse than the pink walls in the torture chamber. “ I was so happy. Ready to be banished (v). I wanted to be the exiled (adj) person. Not ameliorated.”
    “ I love my job.” Ben announced.
    “Atleast one of us does.” I left for bed.
    The first day of manager, all by myself was a disaster. When I unlocked the front door, Starbucks in hand and saw a moor (n). The store was empty. All the clothes were gone. I took off my 4.99 dollar sunglasses to better see the spectacle. The glass cases were shattered and all the canine jewelry gone. We were plundered (v). Oh my goodness, we were plundered! It hit me. What would Caroline say? Maybe this was all her idea, to make me fail the first day, she was malicious enough for it.
    Caroline came back after I broke the news to her. This war between her and I had just begun and I was already thinking of how I could repay my reparations (n).
    Maybe my idea for canine shrouds (n) would help a smidge. I gave my best innocent smile. And in return I got her most evil grin.

  23. Dogs. They have nothing to give but love. So why would anyone repay them back with anything less? That was the question Officer Riekehof asked herself as she hauled away yet another scumbag to jail. Jane Riekehof had worked for the SPCA for almost a year. She did what animal cops Houston did, but wasn’t on T.V. She was glad of that because she treated those Barbarians how they deserved to be treated. She smacked them around, she showed no mercy to the ‘people’ who would treat a living being this way. She wanted them to pay reperation (N) for what they did to those animals, the hell they were put through. Nothing deserved to be treated like that, even if they were “Only animals.” Jane hated that term. She felt if they kept saying they were ‘just animals’ she would say that they were ‘just humans’ and banish (V) them far away where there is no food or water and see how they like it. All those animals she has helped over the last twelve months had been plundered (V) of happiness. They all had the saddest looks on their faces as she took them away from the place they had to endure all that time.

    Whenever Jane saw someone being taken away she felt asolace (N) knowing the animal would be okay. She walked back into the back yard where the dog (who she fondly named Biscuit) was kept in a tiny kennel with no food, water, or even air. This was summer in Texas, the last two days were over 100 degrees. Poor Biscuit. She put him on a blue leash and lead him to the front door, freedom. She had a strong penchance to Biscuit, one she couldn’ t explain. Maybe it was that she knew Biscuit’s mom. Bisciut was spawned (V) from a beautiful Doxin named Shirley who was admitted to the SPCA a couple years ago. She was found in an open moor (N) that used to be an apartment complex. Her owner had recently died and had been asked for her only love Shirley to be in matching shrouds (N) on the day of her funeral. So there was Shirley in a matching outfit at her best friends funeral. Soon after having the litter of puppies Shirley died.

    It vexed (Adj) Jane how the SPCA could have alowed one of those puppies to go to a family who would treat him like this. She took Biscuit to the truck where she would soon load him up and take him to a foster mom. First though, she gave him some water. He drank and he drank and he drank. He sure is thirsty, Jane thought. After Biscuit quenched (V) his thirst, she put him in the back of the truck. On the way back to the station, Jane started to cry just as she always did after picking up another animal. She thought how for those animals it will be so hard to trust or love someone again. They have been an exile (N) for so long, no one to talk to or play with, that they may not remember what to do. Some pets are even put down because of aggressiveness but how could they not be aggressive? She did not want to see the same fate happen to Biscuit again or to any animal for that matter. Jane would adopt all the animals if she could, but she knew that was impossible. She would just have to have faith in humanity that this kind of madness would stop. But sometime faith is foolish, and she knew that to be true.

  24. A long time ago there was a place called Weiner. It was once a hostile world, where evil’s spawn (v) ruled the lands. They were exiled (n) there by the gods. The demons plundered (v) the moorish (n) lands of any nourishment that they could find. But, the demons were not the only beings that walked Weiner. Beings called the Dog’s inhabited this desolate world along side the demons. The Dog’s were a very proud and strong people. One of the Dog’s, Veiner Shnitzel, was a little different from the other’s. He would rather make peice than fight. So for this way of thinking, he was banished (v) from the town he lived in. He left the town with nothing but his shroud (n) and sword. He carried the sword for protection against the demons. Veiner was against fighting but, he was not stupid. One day, as he was quenching (v) is thirst, a demon looking very vexed (adj) walked up to the river that Veiner was dinking from to get a drink himself. Well as the demon and Veiner stoped drinking at the same time they looked at eachother. Veiner started to draw his sword when the demon told him to have mercy. Veiner stopped and decided to listen to what this demon had to say. Well the demon had just come from a battle against a Dog collony that had attacked him and his demon tribe out of nowhere. The demon was the only one of his tribe left and was looking for a new tribe to stay with.

  25. (Image #2)

    Two smurfs named Bob and Bill were so vexed (adj.) for having to pay reparations (noun) to the furious Mr. Pumpkin who decided to banish (verb) them from his pumpkin patch. They couldnt believe just because they lost a brutal battle between them and Mr. Pumpkin to see who could sleep on the better soil they had to pay all that money. Bob and Bill were two smurfs who had been exiled (verb) from a place they had lived forever, and now they had no place to go except the run down moor (noun). They were so depressed to leave their home, that all their friends did everything they could to try and solace (verb) them. Since that didn’t work, their friends decided to think of a plan on how they could get back at Mr. Pumpkin. They were so eager to tell them because they knew this would quench (verb) their anger. They told Bob and Bill they were going to plunder (verb) him and trap him up in shrouds (noun), so he couldn’t stop their plan to destroy the garden. After they accomplished their plan, they told them they were going to spawn (verb) a new and better garden where they could live happily ever after.

  26. Student #22 (longer version)

    A long time ago there was a place called Weiner. It was once a hostile world, where evils spawn (v) ruled the lands. They were exiled (n) there by the gods. The demons plundered (v) the Moorish (n) lands of any nourishment that they could find. But, the demons were not the only beings that walked Weiner. Beings called the Dog’s inhabited this desolate world along side the demons. The Dog’s were a very proud and strong people. One of the Dog’s, Veiner Schnitzel, was a little different from the others. He would rather make peace than fight. So for this way of thinking, he was banished (v) from the town he lived in. He left the town with nothing but his shroud (n) and sword. He carried the sword for protection against the demons. Veiner was against fighting but, he was not stupid.
    One day, as he was quenching (v) is thirst, a demon looking very vexed (adj) walked up to the river that Veiner was dinking from to get a drink himself. Well as the demon and Veiner stopped drinking at the same time they looked at each other. Veiner started to draw his sword when the demon told him to have mercy. Veiner stopped and decided to listen to what this demon had to say. Well the demon had just come from a battle against a Dog colony that had attacked him and his demon tribe out of nowhere. The demon was the only one of his tribe left and was looking for a new tribe to stay with. As Veiner was deciding if he should believe the demon or not, another demon came out of the river (it was a river demon) and attacked Veiner. The land demon told the river demon to stop and he did. After seeing the land demons kindness to him, Veiner decided to help him. Veiner thought that the demon was just looking for some solace (v). The river demon, getting really board, had left a little earlier. He was muttering under his breath that the land demon was soft hearted.
    Veiner and the land demon decided to team up together, and get revenge on the colony that attacked the demon. As the duo got closer to the colony Veiner saw that it was the same colony that had banished (v) him. He started to feel something in him that he had never felt before. He was feeling hate, anger, and frustration for the first time. That’s when, then and there, he wanted to destroy the colony that had attacked his new friend and shunned him from Dog society. Veiner new exactly how to extract his revenge from the colony, he was going to disguise the demon as something that Veiner had killed to prove his worth of being a Dog. So he did just that. Then when he was back in the Dog colony with the demon, he was escorted to the colony high war-chief. There he was congratulated for his kill, and given a big feast in his honor. After all the partying was done, and everybody was asleep, Veiner and the demon started to go into every body’s house and kill them in their sleep.
    After they had finished slaughtering everybody in the colony besides the high war-chief, well they went directly to his chamber. Once there, they woke the war-chief up and told him what they had done. Fearing his own life the H.W.C. used much reparation (n) by giving Veiner and the demon gifts and trinkets. After his pathetic attempt at saving his self. Veiner took his sword and cut the H.W.C’s throat, while the demon held him over his head and drank his blood. After the night’s massacre, Veiner and the demon decided that they would turn the colony into a haven for demons that had lost their tribe. When one would come, Veiner and the demon would plot with the other demon on how to get revenge on whoever it was who had destroyed the demon’s tribe.
    P.S. I meant to submit this story, not the other one that looks exactly like this one just not finished.

  27. I realized I had a need to quench(v.) my thirst, as I looked across the street at a newly built Jamba Juice. Before I could cross the street I was stopped by a homeless man asking me for spare change, I was highly vexed(adj.). Therefore i threw 5 oddly smashed dollar bills at the man. After all the man was covered in flea infested shrouds (n.) and I felt bad for him. Finally the don’t walk symbol switched off which switched on a trigger in my body to make me walk across the street.

    I entered the Jamba Juice, walked to the counter and noticed my pockets were empty. I gave all of my money to the poor man on the corner. I thought to myself, the man probably didn’t even deserve the money, he might have even been a plunderer(n.) in his past life beginning his dreadful lifestyle of a bum.

    But then my mind ran loose once again. Maybe he was banished(v.) from his home because of his beliefs. I began to miss the solace(n.) of the bed in my 32nd floor apartment. Suddenly a moor(n.) spawned(v.) all around me. I was no longer at Jamba Juice, no longer in the crowded city. Maybe I was still there in the shop but my mind had somehow exiled(v.) what i was really seeing. I knew something was wrong, i blinked and i was back in Jamba Juice. Julie my ex-girlfriend who I had left a nasty note the day before was standing right in front of me. I made my reparation(n.) to her and blinked again. I was back in the desterted place only this time my bed was by my side and i could finally rest in peace.

  28. (image #1)

    It is a shady and beautiful day, but yet I feel I am banished (verb) from my home and exiled (verb) from the world around me. I am the only one that can solace (noun) myself. People pass me as they walk down the crowded streets’ pavements. I have this need and desire, almost like a quench (verb), for one of these unfamiliar faces to seem known to me. I am vexed (adj) at how the familiar face that lead me out to this unknown territory has walked away, abandoning me on unknown terms. Am I not good enough? A million thoughts were running through my head.

    I suddenly felt the need to release from the obstacle that was holding me back. This obstacle was tightly secured around me. I have this deep feeling of loneliness and unwanted ness and just want to be wrapped up in a shroud (noun) and tossed. How long am I going to be out here? My stomach starts to growl and then I have this thought about plundering (verb) for food. Who knows how long im going to be here? The reparation (noun) for just being thrown in a moor (noun) would be worthwhile and painless.

    Suddenly I see someone walking up towards me with a familiar pace and stance. It was so sudden; it was almost as if she was spawn (noun) out of the ground. She is tall and she heads towards me with a smile and suddenly I know why the loneliness has vanished. She reaches down and touches me and suddenly I realize im home and going nowhere. Then I realize the reason for her absence. In her right hand she was holding a bag containing something that was indeed for me but I shall never know what it is.

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