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Chapter 1: Date "Liiiiiiight." Light tried his best to ignore the pathetic apple-loving excuse for a Shinigami floating behind him as he made his way through the park. "Why do I havta be dragged on your date?" he whined, closer to Light’s ear this time. He swatted him away as he would a fly or any other pest. Sometimes he could not comprehend how this incompetent creature was a god of death. But he supposed that wasn't up to him to decide. Humans being worthy…now that was a completely different story. A newer and shriller voice then called out his name and he was thankful he had forced Misa into choosing a secluded place for

Theme for AP Lit So I'd like to start this poem out with "As I put my pen to the paper…" But I cannot Because it's typed. My legs itch and it's rather hot in my room. That either has something to do with the lack of air conditioning Or the huge T-shirt I'm wearing-- An All Time Low t-shirt mind you And they are the greatest thing since sliced bread-- Or both. These run-on sentences are the demise of the essays I write. That and the fact that I can never seem to organize my thoughts into a well-thought out sentence. I jump from one topic to the next, Forgetting where I was and why I ended up talking about pigs --my favori

Torn sat in one of the booths at the far end of the bar. People were celebrating, proud of their victory over the Metal Heads, and more importantly, the Baron. They weren't thinking of tomorrow. They were only thinking of right now and how they had somehow, against impossible odds, accomplished their goal. They weren't thinking about all the casualties. All the men that had sacrificed themselves so the city could live free from a tyrant and a pressing enemy species. Torn knew every one of their faces, every one of their names. And he would never forget them. People who had given everything they had to a dream. This movement would be nowhere