´´ it is like an itch , it is part of the system´´, said Rob
´´If that is how you feel?´, replied the helper.
Rob was a bit spikey sometimes because it was the bell or spikes.
Robert Kohlhammer
Well the first thing I think about is Spike from the Happy House books we’re using in English class. Of course, this is a proper noun, and singular, so it’s a bit different from the word above. But why do we even use that as a name? It seems such an odd object to name an animal (and it is mostly animals, isn’t it?) after.
Yani
The old man smiled at the future in front of him. If the world played its cards right, the future would no longer have to play among a field of spikes.
LifesGrey
She barely remembered anything aside from her body lifting from the seat before she woke with dirt in her mouth. Even though she had eyed the spikes from far ahead, the tires blew with a roughness she couldn’t overcome. The car twisted. Her neck pushed to the side. It went dark. It was dark when she woke, stars hung ominously in the sky and silence stretched for miles.
e
“Please, just spike my coffee with some whiskey,” I begged the waitress at the coffee shop and she let out a chuckle.
Brown Cow
“Spikes, what wonderful things aren’t they?” I hear someone say right before I feel a piercing pain in my left thigh. What fresh hell is this? I wonder before opening my eyes only to see another layer of black.
wow bow
The spikes of metal pierced the trucks tires with ease, sending the huge machine swerving wildly. Mack tried to hold the wheel, but his efforts only served to turn the truck sideways as it flipped upside down, skidding to a rough halt just as it reached the edge of the cliff.
spiky spikes, like fences, or barbed wire. Friendly spikes – I’m picturing a boy in a dinasour suit c.f. where the wild things are. A spiky perosnality, somenone is frosty, spiky on the outside but not in?
Megan
1spikes=Sunk Projectiles Into Known Exact Something
Garz
It was green. And the spikes were poking into my fingers. I couldn’t remember how it happened, just that I somehow had a cactus in my hand.
Aubrey
She saw the top of the fence and thought twice. It wasn’t just about ripping her clothes- she could get hurt, like really hurt. And to jump down the other side?
She steeled her courage and started to climb. She had to get out. She just had to.
I tore into the ground and found that my momentum would not be enough to propel me forward. My cleats dug into the ground tearing the turf below me, but I was frozen. Rigid. Caught. Afraid. Ahead of me, spikes churned the turf yet I remained.
Jenny Serban
spikes strong cantaloupe bard tale. albeit another man, one not unlike you and I, was truly to blame. eating apples and crabapples and Adams apples too. Beware the social dictator that reads on 1s and 0s.
A minute is all I have before the library closes. Here we are, all ready to have our heads cut off and set on spikes, awaiting another day and the next time the rooms open and the books and information are released again.
Spikes. Sometimes they protrude from the ground. Others they’ll leave our minds scrambled. I hate when I am in class and spikes go through my head making me forget what I’m doing.
Kimyle
“My shoes got spikes on ’em, see? On the backside.”
Stanley, eyes still fixed on the child-sized tome resting on his lap, hums appreciatively. “Really?” He can’t help the dry, unamused tone he uses as he says this. “Looks great.”
“Looks? You aren’t even looking!” Michael exclaims. “I got these bad boys for two zeros and you aren’t going to give me a single–”
“For all that it matters,” Stanley interrupts calmly, “I’m sure my opinion on your ‘bad boys’ won’t make a difference.” He sighs and raises his head anyway, and isn’t surprised at his dissatisfaction at what he sees.
The spikes that held the fence were rusty. A sign of how old the barn was. She remembered coming to the farm when she was a young child. Almost before she could speak. She would go out and visit the horses and pretend to read their mind even though she couldn’t read anything.
Cris Nole
She wore a spiky choker around her fair, swanlike neck and had her black hair slicked back greaser-style, and Ariana fell in love with her instantly. Maybe it was what she couldn’t have that enticed her the most, she reasoned as she stared at the gorgeous woman from across the dining hall.
Anne
There were spikes adorning her blue velvet shoes. They stared into the soul of the gravel beneath her feet and asked questions as if they were king of the concrete.
There was purple dye in her hair, spikes on her jacket, and lots and lots of patches representing different metal bands on her jeans. She stood in line at the coffee shop and examined her fingernails, which were painted very, very black.
I hadn’t seen a look like this since 2004, when I was in high school. I guess we could call it a classic aesthetic now, and I’ll admit, she pulled it off well. Really well.
´´ it is like an itch , it is part of the system´´, said Rob
´´If that is how you feel?´, replied the helper.
Rob was a bit spikey sometimes because it was the bell or spikes.
Well the first thing I think about is Spike from the Happy House books we’re using in English class. Of course, this is a proper noun, and singular, so it’s a bit different from the word above. But why do we even use that as a name? It seems such an odd object to name an animal (and it is mostly animals, isn’t it?) after.
The old man smiled at the future in front of him. If the world played its cards right, the future would no longer have to play among a field of spikes.
She barely remembered anything aside from her body lifting from the seat before she woke with dirt in her mouth. Even though she had eyed the spikes from far ahead, the tires blew with a roughness she couldn’t overcome. The car twisted. Her neck pushed to the side. It went dark. It was dark when she woke, stars hung ominously in the sky and silence stretched for miles.
“Please, just spike my coffee with some whiskey,” I begged the waitress at the coffee shop and she let out a chuckle.
“Spikes, what wonderful things aren’t they?” I hear someone say right before I feel a piercing pain in my left thigh. What fresh hell is this? I wonder before opening my eyes only to see another layer of black.
The spikes of metal pierced the trucks tires with ease, sending the huge machine swerving wildly. Mack tried to hold the wheel, but his efforts only served to turn the truck sideways as it flipped upside down, skidding to a rough halt just as it reached the edge of the cliff.
spiky spikes, like fences, or barbed wire. Friendly spikes – I’m picturing a boy in a dinasour suit c.f. where the wild things are. A spiky perosnality, somenone is frosty, spiky on the outside but not in?
1spikes=Sunk Projectiles Into Known Exact Something
It was green. And the spikes were poking into my fingers. I couldn’t remember how it happened, just that I somehow had a cactus in my hand.
She saw the top of the fence and thought twice. It wasn’t just about ripping her clothes- she could get hurt, like really hurt. And to jump down the other side?
She steeled her courage and started to climb. She had to get out. She just had to.
I tore into the ground and found that my momentum would not be enough to propel me forward. My cleats dug into the ground tearing the turf below me, but I was frozen. Rigid. Caught. Afraid. Ahead of me, spikes churned the turf yet I remained.
spikes strong cantaloupe bard tale. albeit another man, one not unlike you and I, was truly to blame. eating apples and crabapples and Adams apples too. Beware the social dictator that reads on 1s and 0s.
The mountain spikes looked like they are tearing in to the heavens. But in the grand scheme of things they are just imperfections in a sphere.
A minute is all I have before the library closes. Here we are, all ready to have our heads cut off and set on spikes, awaiting another day and the next time the rooms open and the books and information are released again.
Spikes. Sometimes they protrude from the ground. Others they’ll leave our minds scrambled. I hate when I am in class and spikes go through my head making me forget what I’m doing.
“My shoes got spikes on ’em, see? On the backside.”
Stanley, eyes still fixed on the child-sized tome resting on his lap, hums appreciatively. “Really?” He can’t help the dry, unamused tone he uses as he says this. “Looks great.”
“Looks? You aren’t even looking!” Michael exclaims. “I got these bad boys for two zeros and you aren’t going to give me a single–”
“For all that it matters,” Stanley interrupts calmly, “I’m sure my opinion on your ‘bad boys’ won’t make a difference.” He sighs and raises his head anyway, and isn’t surprised at his dissatisfaction at what he sees.
the spikes that stabbed
her back were made of no plain steel
they were sharper than any metal
in her head, but all too real
as they pushed into her skin
broken open gushed with blood
societal standards are a sin
and body image is a flash flood
The spikes that held the fence were rusty. A sign of how old the barn was. She remembered coming to the farm when she was a young child. Almost before she could speak. She would go out and visit the horses and pretend to read their mind even though she couldn’t read anything.
She wore a spiky choker around her fair, swanlike neck and had her black hair slicked back greaser-style, and Ariana fell in love with her instantly. Maybe it was what she couldn’t have that enticed her the most, she reasoned as she stared at the gorgeous woman from across the dining hall.
There were spikes adorning her blue velvet shoes. They stared into the soul of the gravel beneath her feet and asked questions as if they were king of the concrete.
There was purple dye in her hair, spikes on her jacket, and lots and lots of patches representing different metal bands on her jeans. She stood in line at the coffee shop and examined her fingernails, which were painted very, very black.
I hadn’t seen a look like this since 2004, when I was in high school. I guess we could call it a classic aesthetic now, and I’ll admit, she pulled it off well. Really well.