Being A Teenager

There’s a good and a bad side to being a teenager. Turning 16, celebrating your sweet sixteen, and finally being able to get your L are obviously the plus sides to being a teenager. Who wouldn't be excited to drive a car? But being older isn't all laughs and smiles like I thought it would be. High school is nothing like what I imagined it to be. Before coming to grade 8, I always thought that everyone would be friends and no one would hate one another, but that’s not what happened. Everyone seemed really nice at first, but as the year progressed everyone found out who their real friends were, and who they couldn't trust. People never had anything to say to your face, but they would never shutup behind your back. Eventually you just stopped talking to a bunch of people who you thought we’re going to be your friends “forever". But once you find your real friends, all the memories become unforgettable. One other bad side to being a teenager is that you have to start thinking about your future. You have to start worrying about getting a job, deciding what you want to be when you are older, and etc. When we were little kids, we didn't even think about this, our parents always did everything for us. Another down side about being a teenager is that you get pressured into doing stupid stuff. To fit in with a group of people, sometimes teens do things that they regret later on in life, they get stuck with the wrong crowd. Our parents usually can’t do anything because we always think we are right no matter what. But a good thing is that as we get older, we get more freedom. For example, we can go anywhere during lunch but we just have to make sure we are back in time for class. So being a teenager is fun when you have a group of friends that you can laugh with and just have fun with, but it also comes with responsibility and headaches.

Uninvited Guests

This is the third time this has happened, Henry thought. Every day when Henry would arrive from work, the downstairs basement door would be open. At first he thought that he had mistakenly left it open, but he couldn't have done that three days in a row. “I think I should give the police a call,” Henry said out loud. When the police arrived, they inspected the basement downstairs to see if anyone had been down there, but they found no evidence. “It must be the wind, nothing else,” said Constable George. “I guess..,” replied Henry timidly. As the day went on, nothing unusual happened other than a freak storm appearing out of nowhere. It was around 7 O’clock that night when Henry was watching the news. “Well tonight is going to be a tough night for the citizens of Roseville. It appears to be that all electricity will be going out because of the storm, so if I were you I would get some matches and candles ready. Tonight is going to be a very long night,” finished the man. Henry started to worry a bit; he was never a big fan of the dark. He quickly rushed into the kitchen and opened the drawer which contained all the materials he needed for a night like this. As he finished his dinner, he looked outside the window. Never in his 45 years of living in Roseville had he ever seen something like this. Around 10 O’clock is when the storm started to get worse and worse. You could hear the rain smashing against the windows as if someone was throwing rocks at it. The wind was blowing harder than ever as if a tornado was headed our way, and not a single soul was seen out on the streets. Henry sat nervously on his couch, really wishing that his wife and son could be here right now. But he knew that they could never return, not after what he did to them. Shaking the thought out of his head, he continued to watch TV to pass away the time. Right when the clock struck 12, the power went out. Henry had been drifting off to sleep, so he thought he might as well go to bed and hopefully the lights will be on by tomorrow. As he grabbed his matches and candles and headed up the stairs, he heard a weird noise coming from downstairs. But he ignored it, thinking it was the wind and continued up to his room. Just as he laid down in bed and put his covers on, he heard the noise again, and this time he couldn't ignore it because it was way too loud. He lit up a candle and proceeded to go down the stairs. As he walked to the main floor, he noticed spots of red all over the stairs. The minute he set his foot on the ground, he could tell someone had been in his house. His TV was knocked down, all the pictures were pulled down and torn, and his furniture was ripped and shredded to pieces as if a dog had been here. His first thought was to call the police, but something in his guts told him to go downstairs. As he made his way to the door that would lead him to the basement, he could feel his heart beating fast. He walked slowly, every step creaking because of his movement. Once he reached downstairs, his candle blew out. He frantically searched for a match to light up the candle once again. Once he could see again, he could see there was a trail of red spots leading up to one of the bedrooms. As he made his way there, his heart was pounding. Just as he was about to reach for the doorknob, the doorknob turned by itself. He couldn't believe what he had seen, and before he could even react, a gust of wind pushed him into the room. He tried opening the door as hard as he could, but the door wouldn't budge. As he slowly turned around, he was horrified by what was written on the wall, “I told we’d be back.” As he turned his head, he saw them. He saw his wife and son covered with blood, standing in the corner of the bedroom. And that’s when everything blacked out.