the juniors were acting different because they are now the seniors. They even had T-shirts made. I don't know who plans these things.
Stephen ChboskyTags: rite-of-passage
I was ten when I heard the music that ended the first phase of my life and cast me hurtling towards a new horizon. Drenched to the skin, I stood on Dunoon’s pier peering seawards through diagonal rain, looking for the ferry that would take me home. There, on the everwet west coast of Scotland, I heard it: like sonic scalpels, the sounds of electric guitars sliced through the dreich weather. My body hairs pricked up like antennae. To my young ears these amplified guitars sounded angelic, for surely no man-made instrument could produce that tone. The singer couldn't be human. His voice was too clean, too pure, too resonant, as though a robot larynx were piping words through vocal chords of polished silver. The overall effect was intoxicating - a storm of drums, earthquake bass, razor-sharp guitar riffs, and soaring vocals of astonishing clarity. I knew that I was hearing the future.
Mark RiceTags: rock-music transition heavy-metal rite-of-passage mark-rice metallic-dreams electric-guitars
Fiction has been maligned for centuries as being "false," "untrue," yet good fiction provides more truth about the world, about life, and even about the reader, than can be found in non-fiction.
Clark ZlotchewTags: love adventure stories prostitution sex unrequited-love short-stories racism sexism ships segregation homophobia navy rite-of-passage savannah cuba 1950s adolescent-angst deep-south havana high-seas old-days political-intrigue short-story-collection
When they reached their ship, Ed gazed out at the bay. It was black. The sky was black, but the bay was even blacker. It was a slick, oily blackness that glowed and reflected the moonlight like a black jewel. Ed saw the tiny specks of light around the edges of the bay where he knew ships must be docked, and at different points within the bay where vessels would be anchored. The lights were pale and sickly yellow when compared with the bright blue-white sparkle of the stars overhead, but the stars glinted hard as diamonds, cold as ice. Pg. 26.
Clark ZlotchewTags: love adventure stories prostitution sex unrequited-love short-stories racism sexism ships segregation homophobia navy rite-of-passage savannah cuba 1950s adolescent-angst deep-south havana high-seas old-days political-intrigue short-story-collection
Too many adults wish to 'protect' teenagers when they should be stimulating them to read of life as it is lived.
Margaret A. EdwardsTags: love censorship freedom-of-thought freedom-of-choice freedom-of-speech young-adult censor lovers teenagers teens freedom-of-expression lover rites-of-passage young-adult-literature censors teen teen-fantasy young-adult-fiction young-love young-adult-novels rite-of-passage censoring love-story young-adult-readers teenagers-and-parents teenage-love teen-fiction young-adult-fantasy young-adult-romance young-adult-urban-fantasy lovers-fictional young-lovers freedom-to-express minors-rights
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