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Nonfiction
Uncomfortable
By Lexxx SILVER
Portland, Oregon

I wake up in the morning and I look at the end of my bed seeing if my cat is there. She rarely is, I know that I wake up and let her out mid-sleep but I never remember. I always lo...
Lexxx SILVER, Portland, Oregon
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The greatest cruelty is our casual blindness to the despair of others."

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Nonfiction
My Original Fear
By Keala Prietto BRONZE
Kamuela, Hawaii
Keala Prietto BRONZE, Kamuela, Hawaii
1 article 0 photos 0 comments
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Nonfiction
Steam-Filled Hotel Room
By Lexxx SILVER
Portland, Oregon
Lexxx SILVER, Portland, Oregon
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The greatest cruelty is our casual blindness to the despair of others."

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Nonfiction
Fireside Poets
By Anonymous
Nonfiction
Behind the closed doors of a teenage party in London
By EmmaSJacobs GOLD
London, Other
EmmaSJacobs GOLD, London, Other
18 articles 6 photos 0 comments
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Nonfiction
An Underrated Power Source
By katherine345 PLATINUM
Redding, Connecticut
katherine345 PLATINUM, Redding, Connecticut
32 articles 18 photos 0 comments
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Nonfiction
The Scarlet Letter Essay
By Jsabrina97 BRONZE
McDonough, Georgia
Jsabrina97 BRONZE, McDonough, Georgia
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments
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Nonfiction
Winter Wildlife Sign on PEI
By KyleMoss500 BRONZE
Charlottetown, Other
KyleMoss500 BRONZE, Charlottetown, Other
3 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
I have congenital hunting fever and three sons. As little tots, they spent their time playing with my decoys and scouring vacant lots with wooden guns. I hope to leave them good health, an education, and possibly even a competence. But what are they going to do with these things if there be no more deer in the hills, and no more quail in the coverts? No more snipe whistling in the meadow, no more piping of widgeons and chattering of teal as darkness covers the marshes; no more whistling of swift wings when the morning star pales in the east? And when the dawn-wind stirs through the ancient cottonwoods and the gray light steals down from the hills over the old river sliding softly past its wide brown sandbars &ndash; what if there be no more goose music? <br /> -Aldo Leopold

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Nonfiction
Something Bad...
By Anonymous
Nonfiction
Final Day of Happiness
By Anonymous