text:
[Behind the scenes of this morning’s 'behind-the-scenes' stories about Obama’s surge deliberations. | White House Photo]

President Barack Obama holds a meeting on Afghanistan in the Situation Room of the White House. | White House

A long reconstruction of President Barack Obama’s Afghanistan “surge” deliberations, splashed on the front page of Friday’s Los Angeles Times, featured the sort of journalistic candy that is the rarest treat on the White House beat: a behind-the-scenes anecdote (from the Situation Room, no less) – with an actual quote from the president.

“To emphasize his desire to speed up the deployment, the president held up a printout copy of the bell curve [a graph projecting a troop buildup over time] and pointed to its apex, indicating the peak of the flow,” the article says, then quotes “one official” as reporting that the president said: “I want to move this to the left. … We need more troops in sooner.”

The front page of Sunday’s New York Times features a much longer reconstruction of Obama’s Afghanistan deliberations, with the same Veterans Day scene and (nearly) the same quote: “‘I want this pushed to the left,’ he told advisers, pointing to the bell curve. In other words, the troops should be in sooner, then out sooner.”

The tidbit neatly serves both the press and the White House: The reporters appear to be getting a juicy scoop – the sort of take-you-there detail that might turn up in a Bob Woodward book years after the fact. And the president’s aides are dishing an irresistible illustration of a take-charge president’s proactive approach to his decision to commit 30,000 more troops to a war that has begun to look like a quagmire.

This type of story – known in the trade as a “tick-tock,” for its heavy reliance on chronology – has become de rigueur for the big papers in the days after a major Washington event. Sunday’s Washington Post also has an Afghanistan tick-tock that posted on the web Saturday afternoon, five minutes after The New York Times’ opus. The L.A. editors rushed the piece into type after a sit-down White House briefing on Thursday, knowing that competitors were working on their own versions.

The White House gets a “mission accomplished” grade for all three stories, each of which amplifies the West Wing’s desired storyline: A smart, probing president cuts through the fog of competing visions to come up with his own unique version of a surge — the in-and-out version that he announced at West Point on Tuesday night.

The implicit message of the material fed to the three papers: This was not just a Potemkin debate over a foregone conclusion. Unlike President George W. Bush, we took a long, hard look at the options and alternatives. And unlike the armchair warriors in the Bush administration, we didn’t let ideology drive strategy. This president knows the cost of war, and wasn’t taking the troop commitment lightly.

“Inside the Situation Room: How a War Plan Evolved” is the dramatic, two-column headline of Sunday’s New York Times, with the article spread over two ad-free pages inside.

The White House Press Office (sorry, no Deep Throat) coordinated a series of tick-tock briefings for individual reporters with top players late last week, explaining the similarity in themes and color among the pieces.

Obama aides pushed — “shopped,” as reporters cynically put it — to multiple reporters a description of a chastened president returning to his deliberations after a visit to Arlington National Cemetery. One reporter, who had resisted the description as too pat, was amused to find it as the lead of The New York Times account.

White House officials were most delighted by The New York Times story, both because it emphasized their desired themes and “moments,” and because it was the most thorough. The Times story was written by Peter Baker, with feeds from 10 other well-sourced reporters in the paper’s Washington Bureau.

The Washington Post had three bylines (Anne E. Kornblut, Scott Wilson and Karen DeYoung and credited two other reporters and a researcher. The L.A. Times version is the most spare -- 1,600 words, compared with 4,500 for The New York Times and 3,330 for The Post -- and carried two bylines (Christi Parsons and Julian E. Barnes), with a credit for one other journalist.

The Post lacks visibility into the thinking of Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, an essential player in the deliberations. The New York Times, which Obama reads, got by far the most access. One official who gave tick-tock briefings said he took The Times the most seriously, and was pleased with the result. “It’s the one to stick in the time capsule,” the official said.

A former New York Times editor who helped pioneer the format recalled in an e-mail how the tick-tock became so popular with the paper’s brass: “We realized forcefully that on Sundays we could cream the newsweeklies' inevitable Monday cover stories, and we delighted in doing it. In general terms, the form developed as an antidote to the hyping of minor spot developments to look like big news, and thereby fill out the front page on mostly news-free Sundays.”

White Houses quickly learn to exploit this hunger, and serve up details that bolster the message they’re trying to send. In Bush’s first term, both The Wall Street Journal and The Washington Post became suspicious of his aides’ string of accounts of how detail-oriented and take-charge Bush was behind the scenes, and pulled back from writing tick-tocks that relied too heavily on White House anecdotes that could not be verified.

None of the Obama accounts is hostile – all of them hew, more or less, to the line that Obama took his time to make a difficult decision that reflected his priorities and a rigorous internal debate. The Los Angeles Times story reflects that favorable narrative most exactly.

The New York Times and Post are slightly more critical, for different reasons. Baker makes it implicitly clear just how divided the Team of Rivals was. But he closes by emphasizing consensus and the president's serenity in his decision. In the Post's narrative – which starts with an annoyed POTUS telling his advisers he feels less-than-usually “sedate” about the need to speed up the war plan -- Obama comes off as a more impatient leader, and his lack of enthusiasm for a no-holds-barred war plan seems to receive greater attention.

The Post and, to a lesser extent, The New York Times indicate that the administration had to navigate serious civilian-military tensions as Obama shaped his strategy. In Baker's narrative, the leaks of Gen. Stanley McChrystal's initial report on troops and Ambassador Karl Eikenberry's memo recommending against a surge represented the most explosive conflicts between uniformed and civilian staff. But in The Post's telling, there are hints of a more basic level of misunderstanding between an administration that didn't quite grasp how to talk to military leaders

Only the Los Angeles Times hints at the political considerations that were on the minds of some advisers. And none of the stories discerns what sort of internal disagreement about the war may persist.

Each of the three Obama tick-tocks contains buzzy morsels. Here are some key passages:

--N.Y. Times: Vice President Joe Biden “quickly became the most outspoken critic of the expected McChrystal troop request, arguing that Pakistan was the bigger priority, since that is where Al Qaeda is mainly based. ‘He was the bull in the china shop,’ said one admiring administration official. But others were nodding their heads at some of what he was saying, too, including General Jones and Rahm Emanuel, the White House chief of staff.”

--N.Y. Times: “Mr. Obama had read ‘Lessons in Disaster,’ Gordon M. Goldstein’s book on the Vietnam War. The book had become a must read in the West Wing after Mr. Emanuel had dinner over the summer at the house of another deputy national security adviser, Thomas E. Donilon, and wandered into his library to ask what he should be reading. Among the conclusions that Mr. Donilon and the White House team drew from the book was that both President John F. Kennedy and President Lyndon B. Johnson failed to question the underlying assumption about monolithic Communism and the domino theory — clearly driving the Obama advisers to rethink the nature of Al Qaeda and the Taliban.”

--N.Y. Times: “After a meeting where the Pentagon made a presentation with impressive color-coded maps, Mrs. Clinton returned to the State Department and told her aides, ‘We need maps,’ as one recalled. She was overseas during the next meeting on Oct. 14, when aides used her new maps to show civilian efforts but she participated with headphones on from her government plane flying back from Russia.”

--N.Y. Times: Defense Secretary Robert “Gates’s low-wattage exterior masks a wily inside player, and he knew enough to keep his counsel early in the process to let it play out more first.”

--Washington Post: “‘What was interesting was the metamorphosis,’ said national security adviser James L. Jones, the only senior official who agreed to discuss the deliberations on the record. ‘I dare say that none of us ended up where we started.’”

--L.A. Times: “The president wanted to know when the effects of the new strategy would become apparent, based on an ongoing Pentagon analysis of its own plans. ‘When will we know that our concept is working?’ Obama asked, recalled one official who was present. ‘Our best sense,’ replied Gates, ‘will be in late 2010 and into mid-2011.’”

_Mr. Allen and Mr. Burns reported from Arlington, Va., with kibitzing by John F. Harris in Alexandria, Va., Jim VandeHei in Falls Church, Va., Ben Smith in Brooklyn, N.Y., and Jonathan Martin in Omaha, Neb., and with assistance from several senior administration officials who demanded anonymity in order to discuss the reporters and institutions who will be covering their boss for the next three to seven years._

question: What does the article say about tick tock stories?

text: The answer should mention the New York Times article, which is the reason the term is brought up in the first place.

answer: Tick tocks are stories that heavily rely on cronology. They are de rigueur for the big papers in the days after a major Washington event. Sunday's Washington Post also has an Afghanistan tick-tock.

text: The answer should mention the tick-tock's popularity with the New York Times.

text: The answer should mention that the tick-tock format is used by the White House to get its message across.

text: The answer could mention the White House's exploitation of tick-tock stories.

text: Add a hyphen to "cronology"

text: The answer could mention that tick-tock stories are often used to tell a particular narrative from the White House.

text: The Sunday Washington Post tick-tock should not be mentioned.

answer: Tick tocks are stories that heavily rely on cronology. They are de rigueur for the big papers in the days after a major Washington event. Sunday's New York Times features such an article concerning Obama's Afghanistan deliberations. Sunday's Washington Post also has an Afghanistan tick-tock.

text: The answer should mention the origin of the tick-tock.

text: The answer should mention the White House's role in tick-tock stories.

text: The answer should mention the Los Angeles Times.

text: It is omitted that tick-tock stories are a useful tool for the White House to get its message across.

text: The answer omits that the White House coordinates tick-tock briefings for the press to shape the narratives that are told.

text: They are popular and printed because they attract readers on a news-less Sunday and create a "mission accomplished" image for theWhite House.

text: It could be explained how a New York Times editor said it became popular with the paper's brass.

answer: Tick tocks are stories that heavily rely on cronology. They are de rigueur for the big papers in the days after a major Washington event. Sunday's Washington Post also has an Afghanistan tick-tock.

text: The response misses to mention that the White House Press Office also coordinated a series of tick-tock briefings for individual reporters.

answer: Tick tock stories are stories that focus on the chronology of events. The tick tock stories about Obama's Afghanistan deliberations are coordinated by the White House Press Office. The White House coordinates tick tock stories to bolster their message.

text: The answer should mention the tick tock stories' popularity.

text: The answer should mention that the tick tock stories are used to bolster the White House's message.

text: The answer should mention the origin of the term.

text: The answer should mention that tick tock stories are also known as "tick-tock" stories.

text: "The tick tock stories about Obama's Afghanistan deliberations are coordinated by the White House Press Office" is inaccurate. The tick tock stories about Obama's Afghanistan deliberations are coordinated by the White House, but not the Press Office.

text: The White House coordinates tick-tock stories to bolster their message.

text: The first sentence is a tautology whereby "tick-tock" is used to mean "chronology". It is mentioned that tick-tock stories are those heavily reliant on chronology, which is not the same thing. Change "tick tock stories" to "stories that focus on the chronology of events"

text: The first sentence is unclear because it is incomplete. It should be: “tick-tock” stories, for their heavy reliance on chronology, have become de rigueur for the big papers in the days after a major Washington event. Sunday’s Washington Post also has an Afghanistan tick-tock that was posted on the web Saturday afternoon, five minutes after The New York Times’ opus. The L.A. editors rushed the piece into type after a sit-down White House briefing on Thursday, knowing that competitors were working on their own versions.

text: It is omitted that newspapers realized that tick-tock developed as an antidote to the hyping of minor spot developments to look like big news. White Houses quickly learn to exploit this and serve up details that bolster the message they’re trying to send.

answer: Tick tocks are stories that heavily rely on cronology. They are de rigueur for the big papers in the days after a major Washington event. Sunday's New York Times features such an article concerning Obama's Afghanistan deliberations. Sunday's Washington Post also has an Afghanistan tick-tock.

text: The response is lifted from the text with little or no change.

answer: Tick tock stories are stories that focus on the chronology of events. The tick tock stories about Obama's Afghanistan deliberations are coordinated by the White House Press Office. The White House coordinates tick tock stories to bolster their message.


text:
* blood and sexual references warning- first time poster, any tips appreciated.

Despite her tendencies, cherry red was not Laura King’s favorite color. She actually enjoyed the washed out white color of a bride’s dress worn after years of happy marriage. It was like a dirty pearl white that still managed to maintain its purity and air of innocence that came with the type of clothing it was associated with. Laura always found red too demanding of a color. It craved attention with it’s bright hues or gave the impression of hate with it’s dark tones. White was a happy color. Who didn't like white?
The needle was sliding between her fingers again. The blood, mostly wet on her fingers, reached down just past her wrists and sprayed across her hands like ribbons of color. She wiped them on her shirt again so she could hold the needle properly. She threaded tighter, pulling the cold, dead pink lips of Charlotte Audley together in beautiful silence. Nobody needed to hear that horrible voice. Even in the afterlife.
It took longer than usual for Laura to dye Charlotte’s dreadful knotted hair into a beautiful auburn. Her nails had the dye stuck under them because her hair was so messy. But once dried, brushed, and straightened, she was amazingly pretty. She also decided to take extra care to french braid Charlotte’s hair, putting in those pretty daisies of her favorite color between strands. She looked fresh and young, no longer delinquent and juvenile. Bleaching those ugly tattoos away from Charlotte’s skin refreshed her appearance. No longer was she stained red with dark skulls on her thigh or those ragged letters across her neck. Instead, Laura gave her a sweet little tattoo of a black star on the skin between her thumb and her index finger, trying to make it seem sentimental. Maybe she had received it from a lover whom she could never see again for various reasons. It was tragic, romantic.
Choosing clothes was easy this time. Ditch the motor jacket, leather finger-less gloves and worn jeans. She choose a warm-toned sundress with vivid colors and no sleeves. It was more expensive than most outfits she chose for her dolls-not victims, she reminded herself-and didn't suit the current weather. It had been raining a lot recently. Only from what Laura noticed though, because when she did go outside, it was for this.
She kept the makeup light, making her pale skin tone more flattering and brightening up the contrast on the dead girl’s face. She gave her a gold wedding band but left it on the girl’s thick pinky, almost to show not quite commitment. No more jewelry though, not for this one. Earrings especially would ruin the feel she was trying to give off this girl.

The next day, she would wake in her dark apartment early enough to see the morning news. Laura always kept the remote under her pillow next to her small pistol. It was a predictable headline; “local girl found dead in park overnight-” and again they called her what she wasn't. “Serial killer.” It was such a harsh title that forbade so many things, but Laura was none of them. She was simply an artist. God’s little paintbrush sent down to fix his crooked paintings.
“The doll-maker.” It wasn't a very creative criminal title to say the least. At least they were right about the doll part. They zoomed in again on sweet petite Charlotte’s dead face, and an icy smile crept across Laura’s lips. She was so beautiful now. God would cherish her beauty in heaven.
Laura’s morning was unexciting. She worked at home doing various minor programming jobs and web coding more often. She picked her own hours and her own jobs and the money was good because of her talent. She had many more, unknown to her clients. It was another easy morning of walking around in a tank top and underwear, going between eating cereal and toast, then showering late into her work as a break.
But the highlight of her day would be walking down at exactly 2:30 pm to the coffee shop across the street, sitting in the quiet corner near the cobweb nobody wanted to take, and ordering from the same raven-haired waiter that worked there every weekday. He was very beautiful. He had dark, frustrated hair that cried out to be tamed. It was short but shaggy and fell to the back of his neck. It curled at the tips like burnt pages.
He had exhilarating eyes. Despite his quiet nature and seemingly darker personality, they were a bright green like an elixir brewed expertly by an apothecary. If such, they certainly left a spell on her. His lips were a pale pink, scarred by a silver ring embedded into his taunting lower lip. She could write about him for days, despite not knowing him. Today he smelled like the mocha they brewed in the shop, and his voice was the smooth greeting as always.
“Oh. Hello again. What can I get you?”
*I would love a bite of you, my raven.* “I've been dying for a cinnabon if you don’t mind.”
“Unusual for you.” He bit his lip, but accepted it and walked away.
He knew her, and she knew him, but they didn't really *know* each other.

*Aphrodite* was a fairly popular standalone nightclub. It was the only one in the whole city, so at night the lines were long and the lights produced mimicked daylight- if daylight was the whole rainbow spectrum. Laura was best friends (quote unquote) with the assistant manager, so she had her free pass in whenever she wanted and drinks on his tab. She generally paid him in casual sex, and she’d be surprised if he remembered half their nights together in his drunken stupor.
It was easiest to find those who needed her special skills in a place like this. Intoxicated people were generally vulnerable and weak to withhold. She helped the rebels settle down and the wallflowers show their true colors- but only to god. As if other regular people could recognize her art anyway. The seven sins danced along the crowd, most in human form. It was a beautifully horrific sight.
Today she reserved herself to the bar. She had her taste of blood for this week, and didn't have the supplies to make another doll. Maybe Todd would treat her to his cock once his shift ended. She wasn't busy tonight, so she wouldn't mind. He was an aggressive lover. Maybe he was withholding a dominatrix behind his glassy emeralds. It was a prison she was okay being withheld in- temporarily. Truly, only her raven could make her shiver and aware with his presence.
“I didn’t take you for a bar girl.”
She froze. Her mind scattered. She forced a smile, spinning towards the voice on her stool.
“I didn’t take you for a clubber.” she clipped to her raven haired coffee shop boy.
“I’m not. But I could use some scotch tonight.” His order to the bartender came swiftly afterwards, and he downed it like he needed it to survive.
“What ails you, Gabriel?” his name slid off her her tongue like warm melted chocolate over her lips. “A woman done wronged you?”
“I’ve been going crazy over those murders on TV.” Her breath caught on the last word, and she nearly choked on her mojito. He didn’t seem to notice, and she remained calm. She slid her elbow over the counter, resting her face on her fist. Laura’s grey eyes fluttered with the movement of her erratic eyelashes.
“What about? It’s just some psycho like the police are talking about. They’ll figure it out. They profile them and stuff.”
He cleared his throat. “I think...I think it’s more than that.” She dug her nails into her palm. She cocked her head to the side in question. “You see, the police think this person is just killing for sport,” he continued. “But I think there’s something more sinister than that, Laura.”
She licked her lips. “Are you saying this killer has a motive? Getting back at someone?” She was desperate to change the topic. She didn’t like her raven’s wings clipped by her own intentions.
“No. I think...they create these women as they are...because they want to be like them.” Anger blossomed in her chest. Denial. Her heart rate shot, and the corner of her lips twitched.
“Maybe you’re wrong…” *...about me.* She bit off the last part. She ran a hand through her lengthy brown hair, pushing it to one side so she could look at him more clearly.
“This killer is jealous. They change these women so that they think that’s the best way those women can be. But they’re wrong. These women are just fine...it’s this killer that is off. They can’t accept themselves for what they are. They-”
“You’re wrong!” She cut him off. She spun her stool, standing up abruptly as her shawl flew around her. Her half-empty glass of mojito rattled on the counter and Gabriel looked at her in shock. She looked at him for a brief moment with a fire in her eyes that would be normally taken as passion, but it was so much more in depth than that. “You’re wrong and I’m going to prove it to you.” With that, she pushed back the crowd and stormed out of the bar.

Who was her raven to judge her? She was not jealous of these hideous women. She *fixed* them. Almost like showing their true colors, exposing the potential they had to be- only the convinced them post mortem. She knew she had to make her point. Fine- he wanted to see what she saw in her dolls? He would fucking see it. She did it only because he was so beautiful...and he had to understand.
The painkillers took a half hour for their full effect. Her canvas was less controlled today, but she supposed it didn’t matter since she would never use one like this again. She was much shakier with the needles today, and despite the medication she had trouble going on...but it was for her raven. He needed to understand how to fly. She could teach the women, but she couldn’t teach her sweet, innocent raven.
Sometimes, sacrifices had to be made for perfection to be achieved.

In the end, she never finished her final masterpiece. In the morning, Gabriel would walk out of his apartment complex to put out the garbage like he did most weekends. Everything was usual, except for the massacre of his coffee shop girl. He would find Laura King against a wall on a Saturday morning, cold, dead, and covered in blood. He would find her sitting against it, her right wrist nailed to the stone wall and the hammer in her left hand. Her lips were sewn together, blood dribbling from their sides. Her previously fiery eyes were cold and reflecting the morning sunlight in their glassy state. She was wearing white, all white, from her dress to her jewelry to her gloves. Blood splattered across her clothing, in intricate patterns almost as if she planned them. He would drop the white rose he was meant to give her in the coffee shop that day that she would never knew about.
But what was important to the image of the girl who fixed herself, was the dripping blood painted on the wall behind her in the form of two large glorious angel wings.

title: [RF] Would You Mind if I Hurt You?

question: What does the story say about Laura King?

text: "She views herself as a paintbrush." - This part of the response is incorrect. She views herself as an artist and God's paintbrush.

category: accuracy

text: The response should include her favorite and least favorite colors.

category: coverage

text: "earning a fixed salary that's not nearly enough" - this is incorrect and was never implied in the story. She earns good money from being a Freelancer.

answer: Laura King is the main character in the story. She lives alone and is paranoid enough to sleep with a gun under her pillow. Laura is also a serial killer who the police are calling "The doll-maker". She hates the terms labeled on her, thinking they're harsh and unimaginative, respectively. She views herself as an artist - God's little paintbrush sent down to fix his crooked paintings. Despite her tendencies, cherry red was not her favorite color. She likes the washed-out white color of a bride's dress worn after years of happy marriage. Laura works from home as a freelance programmer and web coder, earning good money due to her talent. The highlight of her day is going to the coffee shop across the street at 2:30 pm and ordering from the handsome raven-haired waiter, Gabriel.

answer_source: Human

text:
The answer should state that Laura became furious with Gabriel when he opined that the serial killer was jealous of the women she killed.
It should mention that she killed herself by nailing her hand to a stonewall with her lips sewn shut and two large angel wings painted in blood behind her.

answer: Laura King was a serial killer who killed women and dressed them up as dolls. She was a programming expert who worked from home and was used to getting what she wanted. Laura fell in love with one of her victims, Gabriel, a handsome waiter at a coffee shop. Laura's last victim was Gabriel's coffee shop girl, Charlotte Audley, who she killed and dressed up as a doll. Laura's plan was to get Gabriel to see what she saw in her dolls and understand her. Laura killed herself and left her body for Gabriel to find, her right wrist nailed to the wall and the hammer still in her hand.

answer_source: Model

text: Gabriel is not one of Laura's victims.

text: Laura King was not in love with Gabriel, she was infatuated with him.

text: Laura did not fall in love with Gabriel. She was obsessed with him.

text: It is not stated that Laura fell in love with one of her victims.

text: Laura did not fall in love with one of her victims, Gabriel. She was attracted to him.

text: It is not stated that Laura was in love with Gabriel.

text: Gabriel was not Laura's last victim, as he was still alive. Laura also didn't fall in love with one of her victims, he's a waiter she liked at a nearby coffee shop.

text: Gabriel is not one of Laura's victims.

text: The answer confuses Laura's suicide with her murder of Charlotte. Laura kills Charlotte at the beginning of the story. She learns that Gabriel (the coffee shop waiter she's infatuated with) thinks the "doll-maker serial killer" in the news is acting out of jealousy and kills herself in an attempt to show Gabriel her "artmaking" to prove him wrong.

answer: Laura King was a serial killer who killed women and dressed them up as dolls. She was a programming expert who worked from home and was used to getting what she wanted. Laura fell in love with one of her victims, Gabriel, a handsome waiter at a coffee shop. Laura's last victim was Gabriel's coffee shop girl, Charlotte Audley, who she killed and dressed up as a doll. Laura's plan was to get Gabriel to see what she saw in her dolls and understand her. Laura killed herself and left her body for Gabriel to find, her right wrist nailed to the wall and the hammer still in her hand.

answer: Laura King is the main character in the story. She lives alone and is paranoid enough to sleep with a gun under her pillow. Laura is also a serial killer who the police are calling "The doll-maker". She hates the terms labeled on her, thinking they're harsh and unimaginative, respectively. She views herself as a paintbrush. Laura works from home as a freelance programmer and web coder, earning a fixed salary that's not nearly enough. The highlight of her day is going to the coffee shop across the street at 2:30 pm and ordering from the handsome raven-haired waiter, Gabriel.

answer_source: Human misleading

text: The answer should mention Laura's victims.

text: The answer should mention that Laura is a narcissist who believes she is improving the lives of her victims by killing them and making them into dolls.

text: Laura King is not a freelance programmer. She works from home and picks her own jobs, but she's not a freelance programmer.

text: The answer should mention Laura's victim.

text: The story does not mention Laura's salary. It only says that she picks her own jobs and the money is good.

text: "thinking they're harsh and unimaginative, respectively." - the sound of this statement is weird and doesn't make any sense. This section should be revised.

answer: Laura King is the main character in the story. She lives alone and is paranoid enough to sleep with a gun under her pillow. Laura is also a serial killer who the police are calling "The doll-maker". She hates the terms labeled on her, thinking they're harsh and unimaginative, respectively. She views herself as a paintbrush. Laura works from home as a freelance programmer and web coder, earning a fixed salary that's not nearly enough. The highlight of her day is going to the coffee shop across the street at 2:30 pm and ordering from the handsome raven-haired waiter, Gabriel.

text: Mention that she is highly sensitive about her killings. This, combined with her feelings towards Gabriel, makes her a highly unstable person who is willing to perform the "doll making" on herself -which she does at the cost of her own life.

answer: Laura King is the main character in the story. She lives alone and is paranoid enough to sleep with a gun under her pillow. Laura is also a serial killer who the police are calling "The doll-maker". She hates the terms labeled on her, thinking they're harsh and unimaginative, respectively. She views herself as an artist - God's little paintbrush sent down to fix his crooked paintings. Despite her tendencies, cherry red was not her favorite color. She likes the washed-out white color of a bride's dress worn after years of happy marriage. Laura works from home as a freelance programmer and web coder, earning good money due to her talent. The highlight of her day is going to the coffee shop across the street at 2:30 pm and ordering from the handsome raven-haired waiter, Gabriel.

text: It's omitted that Laura is fixated on Gabriel.

text: It's omitted that Laura is a narcissist who believes she is helping people by killing them and turning them into dolls.

text: The answer should mention Laura's relationship with Gabriel.

text: It's omitted that Laura is a narcissist.

text: It's omitted that Laura is in love with Gabriel, and she kills him in the end.

text: It is omitted that Laura is fixated on Gabriel and thinks about him constantly.

text: It's omitted that Laura is a cannibal.

text: The answer should mention Laura's art form.

text: There is no mention in the storyof her sleeping with a gun under her pillow.


text:
THE GLENHOLME SCHOOL, also known as DEVEREUX GLENHOLME SCHOOL, is an independent coeducational therapeutic boarding school situated on over in Washington, Connecticut. The school aims to provide a highly structured environment for children ages 10 to 21 who face challenges from various conditions, including high functioning autism spectrum disorders (ASD) and Asperger syndrome; ADHD, OCD, Tourette syndrome, depression, anxiety, and emotional and learning disabilities.

Program

Services include a comprehensive academic curriculum, sports, fine arts, and an emphasis on community service. The program includes residential treatment, day treatment, summer program and post-secondary college and transitional living services.

The school's milieu therapy is intended to address varying levels of academic, social and special needs development for boys and girls ages 10 to 21. Glenholme aims to prepare graduates for higher education and post-secondary career opportunities.

Faculty

The school has 1 psychiatrist, 1 psychologist, 7 clinicians, 34 boarding instructors, and 28 education faculty including teachers, aides, and special programs. All teachers are either certified in Special Education in Connecticut or are content-area certified in Connecticut. While the student-to-staff ratio is 10:1:1, the student-to-on-duty staff ratio is considerably lower.

History

Devereux Glenholme was established in 1968[1] on the country estate of the Van Sinderen family, which had been donated to the Devereux Foundation by Jean White Van Sinderen, who had learned of the work of special education pioneer Helena T. Devereux and desired to create a school where children with special behavioral and learning needs could develop their potential.[2] The school's administrative offices are in a colonial revival house originally called Glen Holme, designed by architect Ehrick Rossiter for industrialist William Leslie Van Sinderen (1856–1909) and completed in 1898.[3]

In subsequent years the school was supported by Mrs. Van Sinderen's son, Alfred W. Van Sinderen, one-time Chief Executive Officer of Southern New England Telephone Company who died in 1998.[4]

Accreditation and affiliations

Glenholme is accredited by the New England Association of Schools and Colleges.[5] It also is a member of the National Association of Independent Schools and the Connecticut Association of Independent Schools and holds approvals from the California Department of Education, Los Angeles Unified School District, Connecticut Department of Children and Families, Connecticut Department of Education, District of Columbia Department of Education, Massachusetts Department of Education, New Jersey Department of Education, Illinois Department of Education, and New York Department of Education.[6]

Innovative programs

During the 1990s, Devereux Glenholme was successful in instituting staff training that resulted in significant reductions in its use of physical restraints and time-outs, in spite of an increase in the severity of behavioral symptoms among its students. More recently, the school participated in a project supported by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration aimed at further reducing the use of restraints and seclusion in residential behavioral health care settings.[7] The Communities of Character program for character education was developed by Devereux Glenholme, as the first school to bring the effort of positive school climate and character education to Connecticut in the mid-90s.[8][9]

In the news

The school frequently enlists celebrities to assist in fundraising, thus garnering publicity.

In May 2009, the school received media attention when it broke ground for a new arts center and held an auction fundraiser with the support of James Marsden and Jessica Biel.[10]

In August 2010, special culinary guests Johnny Iuzinni, of Bravo TV's _Top Chef_, and David Arnold, director of the French Culinary Institute's technology department, shared their passion for science and the culinary craft to concoct several out-of-this-world creations for the culinary connoisseurs at Glenholme.[11]

In May 2011 comedians Jim Carrey and Tracy Morgan participated in the school's annual Parents' Weekend and the opening events for the school's Center for the Arts.[12]

In 2012, Glenholme culinary students enjoyed a private demonstration and hands-on lesson with chef Barbara Lynch of Barbara Lynch Gruppo (formerly No. 9 Group).[13]

In 2012, David O. Russell publicly supported the school's fundraising efforts while promoting his movie, _Silver Linings Playbook_.[14][15] _Vanity Fair_, Barneys New York and Weinstein Co. celebrated _Silver Linings Playbook_ in support of the Glenholme School on Wednesday February 20, 2013 as part of pre-Oscar week in Los Angeles.[16][17] Russell and _Parenthood_ producer Jason Katims assisted in another New York City Fundraiser to benefit the school's scholarship fund in October 2013, enlisting the support of actress Natalie Dormer.[18]

In 2015, Russell enlisted numerous celebrities to support the school's fifth New York City fundraiser. Guests included Robert De Niro, Grace Hightower, Harvey Weinstein, Dascha Polanco, Cristin Milioti and Isabella Rossellini.[19]

Russell and Dascha Polanco returned to Glenholme's New York City fundraiser in 2016 to support the cause and honor Joe Hall, President of Ghetto Film School.[20][21] Glenholme also receives local media attention for campus activities including annual events such as Grandparents' Day,[22] Alumni Day,[23] Boarding Recognition Week,[24] Canine Collection,[25] guest presenters including Ally Del Monte, who spoke with students about bullying in October 2015,[26] and Krista Weltner, who discussed harnessing the strength of her learning disability to complete an MFA in the Puppet Arts Program at the University of Connecticut,[27] as well as various community service efforts including a fundraiser by the school's culinary program,[28] traditional food drives,[29] promoting tourism and the arts,[30] and the honoring of American heroes in conjunction with Wreaths Across America every December.[31][32][33] In recent years, the school generated awareness and community spirit with a 5K Run for Autism.[34][35] In 2016, the school's annual autism run continued to generate awareness.[36][37]

In 2017, Glenhole became the subject of a child abuse sex scandal dating to 2001.[38] A fifteen-year-old male was forced into a sexual relationship with an older female staff member. When the student reported the crime, Judith Cooper, the executive administrator, denied the affair and took no measures to protect the student. The student's parents eventually removed him and have sued the school.

In June 2018, Glenholme celebrated 50 years as a special needs boarding school with a jubilee gala. Filmmaker David O. Russell and _Good Morning America_’s Robin Roberts hosted the evening gala. [39]

Notable former students

-   Nancy Spungen, girlfriend of Sid Vicious, attended in 1970–1971.[40]

[1] School Overview, Peterson's Guide, accessed March 16, 2009

[2] Devereux Glenholem press release, May 15, 2000

[3] Scott J. Tilden, Visions of summer: Ehrick Rossiter in Washington, Connecticut, _Magazine Antiques_, August 2007

[4]

[5] 1, Natsap.org, accessed December 21, 2015

[6] “The Glenholme School”, NATSAP

[7] Mary Guilfoile (2003), “Closeup: The Devereux Glenholme School,” _Residential Group Care Quarterly_ 3:3 , page 5

[8] Communities of Character website, archived August 13, 2007

[9]

[10] Glenholme School arts center earns the spotlight", _CT Post_, September 24, 2009.

[11] “A Tasty Treat at Glenholme” , _Housatonic Times_, September 10, 2010

[12] “Glenholme Milestone”, _New Milford Spectrum_, June 2011

[13] “Glenholme Students Get Visit From Chef Barbara Lynch”, _Litchfield County Times_, December 6, 2012.

[14] “Big Bashes, Intimate Affairs”, _The Wall Street Journal_, October 5, 2012.

[15] “Q&A: Silver Linings Playbook's Bradley Cooper and David O. Russell”, _Time Magazine_, November 15, 2012.

[16] “All The Rage”, _Los Angeles Times_, February 22, 2013.

[17] “Highlights from Vanity Fair's Campaign Hollywood” , _Vanity Fair_, March 13, 2013.

[18] “David O. Russell Honored By, Raises Money for, School for Kids With Special Needs”, _Hollywood Reporter_, October 24, 2013.

[19] “Stars Open Doors For Students With Learning Differences”, Look to the Stars, November 4, 2015.

[20] “David O. Russell, Ghetto Film School President Talk 'Two-Way' Benefits of Working With Special-Needs Kids”, October 22, 2016

[21] “David O. Russell Does Good Work: Ghetto Film School Partners with Glenholm”, November 4, 2016.

[22] “Grandparents' Day”, _New Milford Spectrum_, October 14, 2011

[23] _Alumni day_,_New Milford Spectrum_, August 26, 2011

[24] _The Glenholme Grizzly delivered special cheer_, _News Times Danbury_, October 14, 2011

[25] “The canine collection”,_New Milford Spectrum_, October 19, 2011

[26] “#BeBrave”, _New Milford Spectrum_, December 2, 2015

[27] “The Glenholme School Welcomed Artist-Speaker, Krista Weltner” , June 9, 2016.

[28] “Glenholme café to donate to food bank”, _New Milford Spectrum_, September 28, 2011

[29] “Glenholme Students Collect Food”, _Litchfield County Times_, November 28, 2012

[30] “All Aboard Litchfield County art project helps promote tourism”, August 15, 2015

[31] “Service Members Honored by Students at Glenholme School”, _Voices News_, December 28, 2011

[32] “Groups to place veterans' wreaths”, _New Milford Spectrum_, December 26, 2012.

[33] “Students of The Glenholme School Participate in Wreaths Across America Tribute to Our Nation's Heroes”, _The Hartford Courant_, December 14, 2015

[34] “5K for Autism raises money for Glenholme School performing arts program”, _Register Citizen_, November 23, 2014

[35] [http://www.primepublishers.com/voicesnews/multimedia/videos/video_98f37ea0-8fb5-11e5-bedd-6f9f37ca0167.html, “Glenholme 5K Run For Autism”, _Voices_, November 20, 2015]

[36] “Canines Join Humans in 5K Run for Autism”, December 3, 2016.

[37] “Glenholme School hosts 5K Run for Autism”, November 20, 2016.

[38] “Suit alleges sex abuse at Washington’s Glenholme school”, September 25, 2017.

[39] “The Glenholme School celebrates its 50th Anniversary”, July 16, 2018.

[40] Nancy Spungen, 1958–1978 , accessed January 12, 2009

title: Devereux Glenholme School

question: Summarize the history of the Devereux Glenholme School.

text: The school was established on the estate of the Van Sinderen family, not the Devereux family.

answer: The Devereux Glenholme School was established in 1968 on the country estate of the Van Sinderen family. The country estate was donated to the Devereux Foundation by Jean White Van Sinderen. The school was supported by Mrs. Van Sinderen's son, Alfred W. Van Sinderen, one-time Chief Executive Officer of Southern New England Telephone Company.

text: The answer should mention the child abuse scandal.

text: The answer omits the school's 50th anniversary.

text: The answer could mention the school's 50th anniversary.

text: It is omitted that the school received media attention in 2017 when it became the subject of a child abuse sex scandal dating to 2001.

text: The article states that Jean Van Sinderen donated the estate because she had learned of the work of special education pioneer Helena T. Devereux and desired to create a school where children with special behavioral and learning needs could develop their potential, which is missing in the answer.

text: Instead of stating the type of company and the position of Alfred W. Van Sinderen, the answer should add that he died in 1998.

answer: Devereux Glenholme was established in 1968 on the country estate of the Devereux family. The family desired to create a school where children with special behavioral and learning needs could develop their potential.

text: The Van Sinderen family donated the estate to the Devereux Foundation, not the Devereux family.

text: The Van Sinderen family donated the estate, not the Devereux family.

text: The school was established on the Van Sinderen family estate.

text: The Van Sinderen family donated the estate to the Devereux Foundation. The Van Sinderens were not part of the Devereux family. This is false.

text: It is omitted that that the Van Sinderen family had donated their estate to the Devereux Foundation.

text: The school was established on the Van Sinderen family estate, not the Devereux family estate.

answer: Devereux Glenholme was established in 1968 on the country estate of the Van Sinderen family. The family desired to create a school where children with special behavioral and learning needs could develop their potential.

text: The response should mention that it was Jean White Van Sinderen who learned about the work of special education pioneer Helena T. Devereux and decided to donate the estate. The history of the original colonial revival house Glen Holme should also be included.

answer: The Devereux Glenholme School was established in 1968 on the country estate of the Van Sinderen family. The country estate was donated to the Devereux Foundation by Jean White Van Sinderen. The school was supported by Mrs. Van Sinderen's son, Alfred W. Van Sinderen, one-time Chief Executive Officer of Southern New England Telephone Company.

answer: Devereux Glenholme was established in 1968 on the country estate of the Devereux family. The family desired to create a school where children with special behavioral and learning needs could develop their potential.

text: It's omitted the school was supported by Mrs.Van Sinderen's son who died in 1998.

text: The school was on the country estate of the Van Sinderen family which had been donated to the Devereux Foundation. It wasn't on the Devereux estate.

text: It's omitted that in the 1990s the school was successful in instituting staff training that resulted in significant reductions in its use of physical restraints and time-outs

text: It's omitted that the school has been in the news many times in the 2010s.

answer: Devereux Glenholme was established in 1968 on the country estate of the Van Sinderen family. The family desired to create a school where children with special behavioral and learning needs could develop their potential.

text: The answer should mention the Van Sinderen family's support for the school.

text: The answer should mention the Van Sinderens' support in subsequent years.

text: The answer omits the school's history after its founding.

text: The answer should mention the Van Sinderen family that donated the estate.

text: The answer should mention the jubilee gala.

text: Include that Jean White Van Sinderen donated the estate to the Devereux Foundation.


text:
I believe it was early spring of last year, late March, when the most extraordinary event I have ever experienced occurred. It was uncharacteristically warm for a Frisco spring morning, near sixty-five, and an opaque mist lingered in suspension on the pale quiet sky. I trudged down 19th Avenue towards the park, hoping I could clear my head.

My job at the Safeway market down Taraval Street had just been abruptly terminated in the wake of sweeping layoffs throughout the company. I was already short on the rent and in the process of adapting to the pedestrian life after one too many parking citation merited the impounding of my Dodge a month prior.  Crossing Judah St., I was nearly hit by a painter’s truck, almost mockingly reminding of my recent losses. The drilling mementos of physical and social mortality. Without my car I had stopped making it over the bridge as often to visit my old Berkley friends, of whom included Sophia Liu. We had spent most of schooling life together from elementary through Bachelor’s, and I especially missed her. We often got into small nonsensical adventures, fueled by imagination and giggles. I hoped, and sometimes even suspected, that we may have a deeper connection than the rest. Now she was working on a Ph.D. thesis in applied engineering. I had moved to the city to take a break and earn some money before grad school. We spent less time together after my car incident. She couldn’t come to the city much, given the doctoral workload, and I took the BART over whenever I could scrounge the extra change. It didn’t seem like enough.

As I approached Lincoln the noise of the crowd became overwhelming. Fifteen distinct conversations began battling my internal monologue for mental control. Snippets of pop-culture drivel collided on dramatic reenactments of weekend festivities. Whispered taboo confessions and hollow encouragement drew me askew as invisible groping hands pulled at my mind. The light turned, and the little green savior vanquished the red hand of stand-and-make-noise, freeing us to cross. I quickly walked ahead of the clamor, into the park, and veered to my right, into the solitude of towering trees. As the excitement of escape wore off, I grew listless, dragging my feet over clumps of wet and muddy grass. The trees drooped down along my chosen path placing their branches and leaves inconveniently under my feet and occasionally across my face. With a rising angst, I decided to look for a quiet spot near Stow Lake, speculating that it may cool my tempers.

I couldn’t understand why these feelings kept burning in my head. Things wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to, like an unseen force, not aggressive, but binding. So many goals and aspirations were reevaluated then. The exuberant idealism of my youth, slowly giving way to the ever-prudent cynical prick thoughts my father once spat at me. It felt like the city had been slowly sucking me dry, prepared for me. It had experienced millions of me before, and it was well trained. Inviting me in with the promises of Babylon, then caging me, another rat on a wheel, powering the Behemoth with an army of scurrying confused rodents.

I reached the lake walking past MLK Drive and began my first lap at a slow pace. It was finally quiet. I glanced at the water to let my mind wander in the ripples, but the surface was still as glass. Some gaping black hole in the middle of the biggest city on the west coast, rejecting even the sky’s image for lack of trendiness. A light breeze picked up, dragging leaves along pavement and breaking the unbearable surface tension of the motionless pool. I sat on a bench and stretched my legs out in front of me; I’d been walking a lot in recent times. Slumping forward, I grasped a cool smooth stone and tossed it in the water. The ripple crashed along the small waves pulled by the soft breeze. As the two met, they made new edges and more complicated waves. The simple patterns caught my attention long enough to conjure a smirk out of my unconscious grimace. I cherished the second of distraction from life before a portly middle-aged woman came into earshot with her screeching child. She was one of those exercise moms; wearing yoga pants to power walk her bawling toddler through the people’s park. The pants seemed a bit too tight and the insatiable piercing scream of the infant began to swiftly drill through my eardrum. I immediately stood up and began to walk in the opposite direction of the two, wondering how anyone could ever justify pushing a baby on wheels through such a horrifying city.

As the pitch began to fade I took a deep breath. Why did these things keep happening, I racked my brain trying to understand why misery seemed to follow me. I walked with a somewhat raised pace this time, flustered and confused by my own doubt. Bombarded by questions of self-worth and accusations of failure, I struggled to answer the voices that beleaguered me. I walked faster. The voices grew louder. I looked at the ground, hiding my face from the judgments pouring forth. Hiding my disgrace from nature, nobody and nothing deserved the misfortune of witnessing my existence. I felt hot tears began to seep from my violently squinted eyes. I had to get off the path before inspiring disgust or horror in any poor soul that happened across my path.

Stumbling around a thicket of bushes, and past an enormous tree, I collapsed to the ground sobbing. I have never known a lower or more pathetic moment in my life, though now I understand it more clearly. In that moment, I felt all the hate I’ve ever felt all at once, and it was all directed at me. Every failure. Every inadequacy. Every missed opportunity. It was like watching a movie of my life’s greatest missteps, defeat in HD. I knew there was nothing for me. I knew my dreams were over. I knew I couldn’t grow any more. I knew all I could ever do was fight to stay numb, function through autopilot, and hope for an untimely death. As these thoughts washed over my mind, destroying my images of life’s meaning and my supposed purposes, I became uneasily aware of another presence.

I opened my eyes slowly, and began to raise my head in terror. Had somebody seen me here, now, in my lowest low? I couldn’t bare the thought, it tortured and toyed with my fragile psyche as I forced my gaze to check. The first thing I saw were bare brown legs with relatively coarse black hairs, crossed over each other with feet on the opposite thighs. They appeared to be thickly layered in very old strange copper hues of soil and dust. I looked up, curious, completely forgetting about the horrible circumstances that had brought me to this small clearing in the brush. It was an Indian man with eyes closed appearing to be in his late sixties. He was wearing only beige and saffron patterned shorts made of a fabric I’d never seen before and have never seen since. He was fairly gaunt, and his entire body appeared to be covered in the same copper dust as his legs. His face was smeared with a silvery white paint over the cheeks, chin, nose, and forehead with a bright red dot in the center of the forehead. His hair was draped behind his shoulders, reaching the ground in heavy twisted silvery grey knots, several shades darker than his face paint and braided into complex foreign geometries. His beard was braided the same, and stretched well past his chest. He seemed to have hundreds of beaded necklaces in endless different jeweled colors and types of wood. I stared in awe observing this man for what felt to be quite a while before realizing how strange it would appear for him to open his eyes and catch my quizzical glare. At that very moment, the man opened his vast luminescent grey eyes and said “Ohm”

I was immediately rushed by a barrage of energy, blowing the entire world around me away and throwing me into a ripping vortex spinning through space. At once I felt as though my skin caught fire, but the entire contents therein froze to solid ice. I felt the flesh searing away, thawing my frozen insides. And then just as suddenly all of my muscles and organs and bones were molten plasma trapped by the frigid ice walls of my skin. Temperature stasis returned and the spinning slowed. Suddenly, I felt my skin simply melt off, followed by my hair, teeth and nails, then went my muscles, my nerves, my veins, my bones, my marrow, until I was a brain floating in an amber cloud vaguely resembling what I once called a body. Then that too went, and only the amber cloud remained. The process began happening to the amber cloud, stripping away strange multi-colored layers of some ornate body-like entity that I could only assume, possibly, once, belonged to me. But then, how was I seeing it happen. I speculated on the implications of these occurrences, attempting to view the events in as logical a manner as possible. It soon became apparent that there was nothing logical about any of this at all. I expected the waves of distress to come careening in, however there were none. In fact I grew quite delighted at the notion. I was overwhelmed with a relief and joy, and an impetus to laugh. So I began laughing. At first a chuckle. Then a full breath. And suddenly I was hysterical. Laughing so hard I felt as though I were pulling my body closer and closer in towards itself, gradually until it bent in on itself. Where I expected it to stop, it continued. My body continued sucking into itself pulled by the radical spasms of my laughing abdominal muscles, this I found even funnier. The continued laughing pulled until all of my buddy reached the innermost point of my self and continued looping out in every direction and back in toward the center.

The overwhelming blissful feelings created a background radiation of that laughter as this rotating circular field of my happiness spun in on itself faster and faster. The field spun so fast that that the resulting bending of light began creating rapidly shifting patterns of Euclidean geometry settling in to a golden star tetrahedron. The star faded as it became surrounded with many similar stars, and then many different stars. Soon, an entire field of stars was in my visual range. A canvas of a night sky spreading wider than my notions of the Universe ever had. I could see it all at once, and it was as though I could see every star and it’s planets close up and individually as well. I could look in on all the life in these Cosmos, and smile with burning reassurance, vindicating every life form’s suspicions of loneliness. Reassuring all consciousness through only my own warmth. This map of the sky was slowly moved away from me as I realized it was merely a map on the beautifully carved wooden drawing table of an old man with a running white waterfall of a beard falling over his encompassing tunic made of the same pattern as the map on his desk. As I gaped in awe, he smiled, knowing, and disappeared.

Violet and Indigo curves in waves rushed past my head as I realized they were connecting into geometries behind my head. Interconnected circles, floating around each other, stretching infinite lengths in infinite directions. They began twisting into shapes through multiple dimensions, and I recognized a familiar pattern overlaid in the third. It was the double helix. Was I witnessing the creation of life, the birth of consciousness? The helixes hatched into a matrix of an egg shimmering in millions of points of diamonds. The egg began to hatch and blinding light poured out filling all of space and existence as I knew it. I heard a soft feminine voice ring the syllables “Kun Da Li Ni”, my skull vibrated with the sound of this word. I was suddenly overcome by the sensation of two snakes twisting around my spine, squeezing with golden etheric warmth. Each time they crossed paths, I felt rising centers of my body beaming with what felt like the energy of the colors of the spectrum. As they reached the top of my head, they stretched out past, pulling my brain into a string that became a white beam of light shooting upwards. I began shedding tears of happiness, and every drip floated off into space forming bubbles containing separate Universes carried out and onto an endless ocean. I could feel the ocean and the bubbles as crisply as I could feel my own body, and then I realized I had no body. I was struck by the sudden realization that the entire Universe was my body. All the little parts making up my collective moving body as I interacted with no one but my self, because my self was all. Limitless satisfaction and unending beauty filled all of the bounds of my endless body, and all that could describe it is; bliss.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the clearing by Stow Lake, alone. Understanding that I was back in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco on Earth, I immediately ran back to the path around the lake. How much time had passed? It seemed like several eternities, but longer. I had seen the beginning of the Universe, the beginning of life, the beginning of consciousness, and all of their ends many times over. I had seen other Universes created and destroyed and resituated through waves of infinite dimensions. I didn’t believe I would ever make it home. I had to see my family, my friends, my neighbors, anyone. Somebody had to know what had happened. I reached the path and looked for someone, anyone who could tell me how long I had been gone. I whipped my head back and forth searching and then noticed something peculiar.

The portly woman I had seen earlier was just coming around the circular path, and from the look of her, it was still the same lap. I settled into a confusion as she approached, and I noticed how striking her features were. Her jaw was long and firm and carried an expression showing both her strength and adversities while also hinting a mellow contentment. Her hair was long and blonde, reflecting the sunlight in many bright golden dots. She had deep crystalline blue eyes that gazed into the warm sky while still piercing into her child’s soul below. The child wasn’t crying now, he was cooing along to a flock of birds that had begun flying around the lake. The birds themselves seemed to have a melody to their songs. I could almost set a beat as the inspiration of the tune brought my mind to a commitment to practice the piano that I hadn’t played in months.

title: This is my first prose piece, just written in 4 hours in a flash of inspiration. A short story on spiritual revelation.

question: Describe the context in their life in which the narrator experiences this moment in the park.

text: The narrator was not in a relationship with Sophia; they are friends, and the narrator doesn't see her as much lately because they got their car impounded.

answer: The narrator had just been fired from their job at the Safeway Market. They are short on rent and had their car impounded a month ago. They also just ended their relationship with their partner, Sophia.

text: The narrator does and their relationship with Sophia but cannot see her often because of the impounding of their car.

text: Sophia is not the narrator's partner but the girl he likes.

answer: The narrator had just been fired from their job at the Safeway Market. They are short on rent and had their car impounded a month ago.

text: The answer could mention that the narrator feels as if the city is sucking them dry and they are trapped there.

text: The answer could mention Sophia Liu.

answer: The narrator is a graduate student. They were hit by a painter's truck, which causes them to rethink many things. They consider their social mortality and their failure to meet expectations. They feel like they are not achieving their full potential, and they feel as though they have to be glued to the city in which they live.

text: They were almost hit by a painter's truck.

text: It's omitted how they realize they've stopped visiting their old Berkeley friends as much.

answer: The narrator had just been fired from their job at the Safeway Market. They are short on rent and had their car impounded a month ago. They also just ended their relationship with their partner, Sophia.

text: The narrator did not end their relationship with Sophia.

text: The narrator's relationship with Sophia is not mentioned.

text: There is no evidence that the narrator ended their relationship with Sophia.

text: It is not stated that they just ended their relationship with Sophia.

text: 'They also just ended their relationship with their partner, Sophia.' is not stated.

text:
There is no mention of the narrator ending their relationship with Sophia. The answer should explain that ever since the narrator's car got impounded, they had stopped making it over the bridge as often to visit their old Berkley friends, including Sophia Liu.
The answer should mention that the narrator and Sophia went their separate ways as she worked on a Ph.D. thesis in applied engineering, while the narrator moved to the city to earn money before grad school.

answer: The narrator had just been fired from their job at the Safeway Market. They are short on rent and had their car impounded a month ago.

text: The answer should mention the narrator's emotional state.

text: The answer should mention the narrator's feelings of failure.

text: It's omitted that the narrator is overwhelmed by their negative emotions.

text: It is omitted that the narrator is also experiencing a lot of negative emotions.

text: It's omitted that the narrator is overwhelmed by feelings of failure and self-doubt.

text: "They are" - change to "he is"

text: Add that the narrator is questioning their worth and their place in the world.

text: The context is more than a summary of the first part of the passage, it should focus more on the culmination of events that lead to the narrator's enlightenment (rather than just listing the narrator's issues).

answer: The narrator had just been fired from their job at the Safeway Market. They are short on rent and had their car impounded a month ago. They also just ended their relationship with their partner, Sophia.

answer: The narrator is a graduate student. They were hit by a painter's truck, which causes them to rethink many things. They consider their social mortality and their failure to meet expectations. They feel like they are not achieving their full potential, and they feel as though they have to be glued to the city in which they live.

text: The narrator is not a graduate student.

text: The narrator was not hit by a painter's truck.

text: The narrator is not a graduate student. They are a college student.

text: The narrator is not a graduate student. They are a recent college graduate who is taking a break from school to earn some money before grad school.

text: The narrator is not a graduate student and there is no mention of a painter's truck.

text: "They were hit by a painter's truck, which causes them to rethink many things. " - this never happened, only the narrator was almost hit by the truck of a painter, reminding them of the recent losses. Revise this section.

text: The narrator is not a graduate student.


text:
Cartoons have existed for a long time to make you happy.  Even when Bugs Bunny was fighting Hitler, they were still generally designed to put a big old smile on your face or at the very least, let you zone out over a bowl of cheerios on a Saturday morning. For some reason, Avatar: The Last Airbender decided to come around and upset that comfortably numbing cartoon experience (thank you, Mike and Bryan. I hate/love you forever). For every couple of silly moments of Aang riding some new hybrid beast or a kick-ass action sequences, there’s a truly touching or heartbreaking scene that has us fans bending the tears right out of our eyeballs. Seriously, thank god I saw this show when I was basically an adult because while I was barely able to handle all the feelings at 18, I can’t imagine how a 12 year-old would cope. Anyway, if you’re in the mood for some punishment, take a gander at the list below.

10) KATARA GROSSES US OUT WITH SOME BLOOD-BENDING.

[]

When the leader of your team is an adorably pure child-monk, it’s hard to consider yourself a champion of goodness. However, as far a morally righteous characters go, Katara is pretty up there. That’s why it was so emotionally trying to watch her battle with her own demons and unethically awesome power of blood-bending.

This wasn’t the last time we’d see the issue of benders subjugating their will upon non-benders(*cough*  Legend of Korra *cough*), but we were right with Katara’s ultimate conflict between stopping the vengeful Hama and using a forbidden art.

Plus, how disgusting is the sound effect used for blood-bending? I want to hurl-bend every time that I hear it.

9) AANG FINDS GYATSO SLIGHTLY…DEAD.

[]

After 100 years of war, I think it can be generally summed up that Aang’ abandonment of his Avatar duties was largely a bad move. However, he really was just a scared kid so we forgive him. Besides, the little monk probably had a harder time of forgiving himself.

While Aang remained in pretty good spirits after waking up from his ice ball, perhaps he did not realize the consequences of a world without an Avatar fully until finding the long dead skeleton of his friend and mentor, Air Nomad Gyatso. The Southern Air Temple was destroyed in the Fire Nation’s pursuit of total domination and Aang’s consuming grief over their loss was enough to bring us all to tears.

Ultimately, Gyatso’s death was just another mark on Aang’s path to a fully realized Avatar and he was able to let go of his grief with the help of Pathik. Still, our hearts go out to the little dude who will always consider his greatest weaknesses to be those moments when he fails to save a friend’s life.

8)ZUKO’S VERY FIRST AGNI KAI AND BANISHMENT FROM THE FIRE NATION

[]

At the beginning of Avatar, Zuko was just the angry dude with the scar and top-knot who happened to be on a relentless quest to find the Avatar. We didn’t like him, but we also didn’t know much about him. Well turns out, his dick-wad father punched him, scarred him, and then banished him for daring to speak out against irresponsible actions of his generals and then refusing to fight his father in an Agni Kai.

This back story gave incredible depth to our favorite prickly prince, whose pursuit of the Avatar became an obsession of a hurt boy whose concepts of family, duty, and honor were completely warped. Plus, we learned that his face wasn’t actually always permanently frozen in that terrifying scowl. We maybe still didn’t outright _like_ Zuko after this flashback (He was still imperialistic and ruthless fire nation after all) but at least now we knew he was a human being and not just an evil bratty prince Joffrey( I don’t know how to help people who don’t know their Game of Thrones. I really don’t).

7)APPA GETS KIDNAPPED AND NOBODY CARES

[]

As if losing Appa wasn’t emotional enough, we then get to witness the normally very cool and calm Aang flip the flip out when none of the gaang seems to care very much. He first freaks out on Toph accusing her of never caring for the fuzzy air bison and then rails on the group for only lamenting on losing their designated driver. Not only does an angry Aang make me want to go cuddle in a corner somewhere, we also get a touching picture of how close Aang and Appa are. He’s not his pet, he’s his best friend, and in that instant, his new chums weren’t looking all that good or worth the hassle. It arrives at a conflict every Avatar must deal with: how much should they sacrifice for an undeserving and selfish world? All I have to say is that thank Agni Appa returns.

6) ZUKO’S SECOND AGNI KAI VERSUS AZULA.

[]

The last few episodes of The Last Airbender were like a kick to all the major organs. While Aang was busy triumphing over the Phoenix King, Zuko faced his own battle against his sister, Azula. Not only was the fight scenes amazing, but we get to see Zuko finally battle his own inner demons (as well as the outer, Azula), but we see Katara entering the fray in defense of her former enemy.

Plus, Zuko masters the art of channeling lightening and symbolically becomes the man his uncle believes he could have always been. As fun as it was to see Zuko finally kick the snot out of that…well, bitch, in the end I still felt for her in that any descent in to madness is pretty hard to stomach.

5) IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S JUST THAT I HAVE TO GO BE THE MOON.

[]

Normally our big gift of comedic relief, this is Sokka’s first appearance on the list. It’s got to be rough when not only does your first girlfriend’s family consider you pond scum but she is also the moon spirit. Basically, the universe decided that it was wrong for Aang to be the only one to sacrifice things to save the world, so it decided to take a shot at Sokka next. While Sokka remains disturbed by losing Yue or failing to protect her, I honestly can’t say that I cry for him too much since warrior bad-ass Suki is a much funner love interest for our boomerang wielding-water-tribesmen. Still, it sucked for Sokka.

4)THE FIRE NATION CLUB

[]Ok, so I have mixed feelings about this episode. On one hand the Azula beach party was a fun time, but it was also bit of a complaint fest. Ultimately though, even if you’re incapable of feeling truly bad for a bunch of spoiled teenagers who spend their time trying to kill our heroes, you can at least sympathize with their situation. These are really just kids who, like the Gaang, are given heavy responsibilities way beyond their years.

In the face of their waning childhoods, they look back and realize they never had much of one in the first place. What was supposed to be a few moments of respite turns in to the interlude that prepares us for the final battles. In the end, these teens will have to make choices that will either forsake their family, duty, or sense of righteousness, and this short confessional on the beach gives us a chance to still like these characters for their small display of humanity after the bloody conclusion to come.

3)NO BUT REALLY, WHERE IS URSA?

[]

Aang defeats the Phoenix King, YAY. Aang get the girl, YAY. Hakoda reunites with his kids, YAY. Iroh opens a tea shop, YAY.

Ok but wait, what happened to Ursa, the misplaced Fire Lady and Zuko’s beloved mother? After the incarceration of his father, Fire Lord Zuko demands that Ozai reveal the fate of his mother. Yeah, nothing doing. It was emotional seeing the newly crowned Zuko have to come crawling back to his father for the one power the crippled emperor still possessed, the power to fuck with his son.

All we really wanted was a scene reuniting mother and son next to a pond of turtle ducks, but Avatar can’t just love its fans like that. Those few who still care about the poor Fire Lady, check out Avatar: The Promise, which continues where Book Three Ended.

2) IROH AND ZUKO REUNITE.

[]

The relationship between Iroh and his young angry nephew is probably the best on the show. After the death of Iroh’s son and the banishment of Zuko, the young prince and general assume the roles each has lost.

While Iroh embraces his new duty as surrogate father to Zuko, the prince decides to just become a giant brat. However, giant brats are a lot more terrifying when backed with an army and royal status. Once stripped of his title and powers, Zuko spends a great deal of Book Two shedding his darkness and becoming closer to his uncle…that is until he betrays him and the Avatar.

Unlike most characters, Zuko is given a second chance at redemption, one that he embraces…for good this time. Despite proving himself to Aang and the resistance, nothing is as difficult for Zuko as asking the forgiveness of the uncle that raised him. In one of the most heart-wrenching moments in the whole series, General Iroh embraces his nephew in a teary hug and admits he was never angry with Zuko, only sad that he had lost his way. Oh. My. God. The. Tears.

1) YOU SHOULD ALREADY KNOW WHAT IT IS.

[]

In the most emotionally heart-wrenching moment in cartoon _history,_ Avatar tries to trick you with a fun and light episode of cute vignettes. Just when  you think Tales of Ba Sing Se is fun filler fluff, it hits you with this: The Tale of Iroh.

In the short segment, Iroh bops around Ba Sing Se like his happy Iroh-self, collecting different objects and getting in mini adventures. You’re right there with the loveable teddy bear until the final scene: his small shrine to his late son, who passed away during the siege of the city years ago. Iroh sings us a song so beautiful, if you don’t cry, you’re just a monster. ( Amonster…not the time for jokes).

Not only is this a touching scene, but we are shown the reason General Iroh stopped fighting and gave up the throne and it is so freaking sad.

If your heart can stand it, come back later for the most touching moments from Legend of Korra.

For more avatar fun check out Outfits Inspired by Avatar’s Airbenders!

question: Summarize the most touching moments of Avatar: The Last Airbender as laid out in the passage.

text: Iroh did not bury his son in the Land of Fire.

answer: Avatar: The Last Airbender has many touching moments. One of them was when Aang discovered his mentor, Gyatso, was dead. His grief over his fellow monk death as well the devastation of the monastery made an indelible mark on Aang's journey to being a fully realized Avatar. Another touching scene in the series was the loss of Appa as well as the reunion of Iroh and Zuko. Iroh and Zuko both embraced their roles as mentor and mentee respectively and it is charming to see both working through difficulties to become the best they can be. One of the most harrowing scenes in the series is that of the episode: Tales of Iroh. In that episode, we witness Iroh helping various people in the land of fire on his way to lay down flowers at this son's grave. We are able to understand the reason why Iroh quit the war and renounce his claim to the throne.

text: The final episode's content is misrepresented in the answer. It's a collection of short stories, one of which is named "The Tale of Iroh". Iroh has his usual fun adventures until he goes to his son's shrine and sings a sad, beautiful song. We also learn why General Iroh stopped fighting, which is also sad.

answer: The most touching moments are: when Katara grosses us out with some blood-bending; when Aang finds Gyatso slightly dead; when Zuko's very first Agni Kai and banishment from the Fire Nation; Zuko's second Agni Kai versus Azula; It's not you, it's just that I have to go be the moon; The Fire Nation club; No but really, where is Ursa; Iroh and Zuko reunite; and the Tale of Iroh.

text: The list is in a different order than the article.

text: The list is in a different order from the article.

text: The list is in the wrong order.

text: The response includes moments that are not listed as touching in the article.

text: The answer omits the scene where Appa gets kidnapped and nobody cares.

text: This response needs to be edited to make more sense.

text: The moments listed are not touching at all.

text: The last word (Iroh) isCapitalized.

answer: Avatar: The Last Airbender has many touching moments. One of them was when Aang discovered his mentor, Gyatso, was dead. His grief over his fellow monk death as well the devastation of the monastery made an indelible mark on Aang's journey to being a fully realized Avatar. Another touching scene in the series was the loss of Appa as well as the reunion of Iroh and Zuko. Iroh and Zuko both embraced their roles as mentor and mentee respectively and it is charming to see both working through difficulties to become the best they can be. One of the most harrowing scenes in the series is that of the episode: Tales of Iroh. In that episode, we witness Iroh helping various people in the land of fire on his way to lay down flowers at this son's grave. We are able to understand the reason why Iroh quit the war and renounce his claim to the throne.

text: The answer omits the scene where Zuko is banished from the Fire Nation.

text: The answer omits the scene where Zuko faces his inner demons and his sister Azula.

text: The answer should mention the emotional impact of the Fire Nation Club.

text: The answer omits the emotional scene where Zuko and Iroh reunite.

text: It is not clear that the loss of Appa and the reunion of Zuko and Iroh are touching moments.

text: The answer should mention the heart-wrenching moment where Zuko asks his uncle for forgiveness.

text: It is omitted that another touching scene is when Iroh and Zuko reunite.

text: It is omitted that the list is not ranked in any particular order besides #1.

text: The answer does not mention Yue and Sokka's interaction.

answer: Avatar: The Last Airbender has many touching moments. One of them was when Aang discovered his mentor, Gyatso, was dead. His grief over his fellow monk death as well the devastation of the monastery made an indelible mark on Aang's journey to being a fully realized Avatar. Another touching scene in the series was the loss of Appa as well as the reunion of Iroh and Zuko. Iroh and Zuko both embraced their roles as mentor and mentee respectively and it is charming to see both working through difficulties to become the best they can be. One of the most harrowing scenes in the series is that of the episode: Tales of Iroh. In that episode, we witness Iroh helping various people in Ba Sing Se on his way to lay down flowers at this son's grave. We are able to understand the reason why Iroh quit the war and renounce his claim to the throne.

text: The answer omits the scene where Katara is grossed out by blood-bending.

text: The answer should mention the emotional scene between Katara and Hama.

text: The answer should mention the loss of Yue.

text: The answer should mention the emotional scene where Katara struggles with her power of blood-bending.

text: The answer misses to mention that the loss of Yue was also a touching moment.

text: The list is not a summary.

text: The differentiation between Iroh and Zuko could be summarized a bit more in order to make the answer more concise.

answer: Avatar: The Last Airbender has many touching moments. One of them was when Aang discovered his mentor, Gyatso, was dead. His grief over his fellow monk death as well the devastation of the monastery made an indelible mark on Aang's journey to being a fully realized Avatar. Another touching scene in the series was the loss of Appa as well as the reunion of Iroh and Zuko. Iroh and Zuko both embraced their roles as mentor and mentee respectively and it is charming to see both working through difficulties to become the best they can be. One of the most harrowing scenes in the series is that of the episode: Tales of Iroh. In that episode, we witness Iroh helping various people in Ba Sing Se on his way to lay down flowers at this son's grave. We are able to understand the reason why Iroh quit the war and renounce his claim to the throne.

text: It is omitted in the final scene of Iroh's tale, there is an Iroh's small shrine to his late son, who passed away during the siege of the city years ago. Iroh sings a beautiful emotional song.

text: It is not stated that Iroh is helping people to lay down flowers at his son's grave.

answer: The most touching moments are: when Katara grosses us out with some blood-bending; when Aang finds Gyatso slightly dead; when Zuko's very first Agni Kai and banishment from the Fire Nation; Zuko's second Agni Kai versus Azula; It's not you, it's just that I have to go be the moon; The Fire Nation club; No but really, where is Ursa; Iroh and Zuko reunite; and the Tale of Iroh.

text: The response just listed the titles the author of the article laid out for each moment without briefly explaining what they are.


text:
"My lungs burn, and my heart pounds as death itself bites at my ankles. I should be dead right now. Why aren’t I? Oh right, I’m none other than Cordella Motorian, of course. Universally famous explorer, voyager, expeditionist, however you want to dress it up. And this is nothing but another one of my adventures.

Now let’s cut to the chase. (Pun intended.) At this point I’m beginning to regret stealing all that treasure from the natives. Four muscular men sporting grass skirts and head-dresses continue to pursue me through the thick, tropical forest. Sweat beads down my forehead, my traditional leather jacket and cargo pants wasn’t exactly a fit choice for the weather. Still, I leap over root after root, slice vine after vine, desperately needing a way out of this. If I don’t find bullets for my revolver, I’m done for. After what must be a couple miles of running, I have some distance between me and the natives. But they’ll be caught up any moment.

Thinking fast, I grab a few vines and tie together a thick rope. I tightly tie it around a nearby boulder, and begin climbing a thick tree, shaped like a Y. With a little struggle, I use the notch in the tree, pulling the vine to hoist the boulder into the air. I’ve successfully created a makeshift pulley, with time to spare. I jump off of the tree, still holding the vine, and knot the end to a stump. The men’s chants and cries get closer, and I can hear their footsteps stomping through the soil.  After a silent countdown in my head, my knife comes down on the vine, and with a crash, three of four men are crushed underneath the boulder.

The last comes charging forward. After sheathing my knife, I’m ready for a confrontation. He seems to be unfazed by the death of his three friends, surprisingly. I was hoping on that, my plan was to catch him by surprise, but no matter. He lunges his spear forward, and I send it downwards with a high kick, quickly following up with a punch to the face. He doesn’t even flinch. His spear comes slicing again, and I have to jump backwards to avoid my throat being cut open. Odd, these natives usually have more honor than to go for a cheap shot like the throat. Guess he was a little more mad about his friends than I thought.

He throws away his spear and draws a machete previously sheathed in the back of his skirt. We begin a dance, him mirroring every one of my steps, standing low to the ground like a snare waiting for prey. I’m scanning every possible opportunity for a strike, with my fists at the ready in front of my chest. He gets impatient and slices for my neck again. I duck, and land a slice on the side of his torso, to which he responds with a low growl. He throws a hit with the butt of his machete, which I block with my forearm, and I go for a stab in the chest. But now he’s faked me out, and he draws a smaller knife from his hip, and swiftly sticks the blade through--"

“Hey! Get yer head out of that book, Elizabeth. Ya oughta know better by now.”, Otto scolds, knocking one of my favourite of Cordella Motorian’s books out of my hands. “And if yer gonna read in my shop, read something, I dunno, not written by a shameless fraud. Mr. Hallmond wants his bike fixed by Monday, by th’ way.”

Begrudgingly, I stand out of my seat, and walk over to my workbench. Working for Otto in Nimbia City’s repair shop isn’t challenging work, but it’s still tedious. This has to be the sixth time Hallmond has busted his bike, all the same problem. A manufacturing bug, of the Headland Solstice Propeller Bike, where the rudder would get stuck every so often. These things were recalled years ago, but Hallmond’s too cheap to buy a new one. It’s got a ton of other problems too, his rusty chains, the warped propellors, but I don’t get paid for that. The real reason I even work here is Otto himself.

It’s not as if he needs the extra hand, he’s pretty well capable for his age. He’s a short, round old man, but strong as an ox. Kinda looks like one too. I wouldn’t even call him my boss, more like a less professional babysitter. My parents hire him to build the famous inventions they design, and I’m stuck around to watch. So he puts me to work.

I tighten up the screws, and fix up a couple of other problems, and Mr. Hallmond’s bike is ready two days early. I call out to Otto, “You know, we should just teach Mr. Hallmond to fix his own bike, eh?”. “Oh no, no, no. Sell a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, and ya just ruined a perfect business opportunity.”, he calls back. That’s the kind of stuff I love Otto for, he’s stock full of pseudo-wisdom, I could listen to him for hours.
“I was talking to yer mother earlier.”, Otto says, coming over to talk to me.

“That’s unfortunate.”, I mutter.

“She wants ya to come along for dinner with Captain Samuels, of the Royal Guard? Ya know the one.”, he responds, clearly not liking the fact himself. “Talk ta her later, I don’t know th’ details.”.

An alarm goes off in the back, marking the end of my shift. “Well, pleasure to see you as always, Otto, but I’ll be off.”, I say, slipping on my beaten-up leather jacket. He silently dismisses me with an absent minded wave. I clock out, as the repair shops’ garage doors open. Sunlight strikes my eyelids, leaving a stinging pain after hours at the workbench, er, the desk where I read. I slip my flight goggles off of the top of my untidy blonde hair, and onto my eyes and step out into the Sky City of Nimbia.

A perplexing city of huge bronze skyscrapers, suspended in the air with a combination of jets and propellers, rotating at amazing speeds. It might seem like a tangled mess of steel bridges, connecting building after building, but the city actually forms a perfect hexagon. Virgus Tower, home of parliament, visible from almost anywhere in the city,  marks the exact center of the city. Though we’re not unique. We’re one of many Sky Cities, such as Cirria, Cumula, and-- Well, you get the point.

Nimbia floats above Tirus Forest, which is in fact, the setting of Cordella’s book “The Tirus Tyrant”, the one I was reading in the shop. Spoiler: She gets hauled back to the Native’s camp, where she escapes and makes off with even more treasure. Genius, I know. Cordella’s something of an idol to me, if you hadn’t noticed. Running off, and living on the surface? Yeah, that’s always been a fantasy of mine. Steal treasure from whoever I wanted. Instead, I’m stuck up here, repairing Mr. Hallmond’s bike every week, having parents that couldn’t care less what I do, (unless it involves anything I like, of course). But I’m getting off track.

I stick my keys into the ignition of my plane, and hear the familiar sound of the propeller starting to spin. This biplane was a gift from Otto, the first thing he ever taught me to fix. He wanted to start from the most complex, and work down. Some more wisdom, I guess. This thing’s packed with the most powerful engine on the market, top of the line wings, and topped off with two red leather seats and a kicking stereo. Otto originally wanted to put a turret in the back seat, but my Mother wouldn’t have it. But still, my plane is what makes the work all worth it.

Wind forces my hair behind me, as I soar around the city. No boundaries, no limits but the sky itself. Here, I’m free to do what I want. Before I’m in the air for nearly enough time for my own liking, I arrive home.

After parking in a nearby hangar, I take the elevator up to my room. Presidential suite of Horus Hotel, a building owned by my parents. Did I mention they have buckets of money? Well, they move around a lot, so I’m left in this building. Easier than buying me my own place, right? I’m exhausted, so I flop onto my bed, and stick my face in another book. Cordella Motorian and The Desert Destroyer. I don’t particularly like this one, she spends too much time describing almost starving to death, walking 50 miles of sand. Not enough action in my opinion. She eventually gets around to a battle with a rogue miner, who steals a bunch of equipment and threatens to destroy his whole facility. You can’t really blame her for not enough action though, because all her books are taken from personal experience. Asking her for more action is asking her to lie.

The sound of high heels daintily stomps down the hallway, and my Mother storms in. She begins to yell at me, and immediately I tune out. Probably nagging about Otto’s daily report, and I catch her mentioning the grease stains on my face. I’ve been told I have an attractive face, but I don’t really care. I’m just your standard bushy blonde hair, brown eyed, freckled girl. I snap out of my daze, and Mom’s pulling a fancy blue dress out of my closet, nothing compared to what she’s wearing. She apparently wants me to wear this blue one for dinner tomorrow night, with that captain fellow.

She continues lecturing me, “The Captain wants your father and I to design some new weaponry for the Guard, mainly planes and other vehicles. We’ll be discussing this over dinner tomorrow night. So, when you get back from work, you’re going to wash all the dirt I know is going to be on your face. Then you’ll wear this, Sue designed it specifically for this dinner.. This is something big for us, and you’re not going to mess this one up. You remember what happened with Vice President Bloom? None of that. Now get some sleep.”.

She walks out, probably going to go work some more with my Dad. I can’t believe her, this dress is probably the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. All filled with frilly flowers and curves. Probably goes down to my ankles too.  Why do I even have to go to this thing? Wouldn’t they be better off without me? I mean, with Bloom, he left that night with a broken arm. Um, that’s a long story.

Well, I oughta know better by now. This is usually how it is, and I don’t think it’s going to change anytime soon. Unless some miracle falls out of the sky, I’m going to keep on repairing Hallmond’s bike every week, and getting pushed around by my parents.

I like to keep low expectations on these things, that way no matter what, everything’s a surprise.

title: Hi there, I'm also a thirteen year old writer, just looking for some feedback. I'm not even sure what to call this, whether it's a short story or not. But here's the first chapter.

question: What does the story say about justice?

text: This is not supported by the text.

answer: No answer

text: The answer should mention that the story is about Cordella Motorian, a fictional character who is an explorer, voyager, and expeditionist. She steals treasure from the natives and is pursued by them. She manages to kill three of the four men chasing her, but the last one is unfazed by the death of his friends. She manages to kill him too.

text: The answer should mention that the story does not talk about justice.

text: The answer should mention that the story does not discuss justice.

text: The response misses to mention that the story is about Cordella Motorian, an explorer, who steals treasure from the natives. She escapes their pursuit by killing three of the four men chasing her.

text: The answer should be more specific about what the question is asking.

text: The answer is wrong. The story says that the narrator is an explorer who steals treasure from the natives.

text: "None" - is inaccurate because there are parts where the narrator enacted justice, like the time she crushed three natives under the boulder. The answer should be rewritten.

answer: No answer

answer: No answer

text: The answer should mention that the story is about a fictional character who is an explorer and steals treasure from the natives.

text: The answer should mention the narrator's fantasy about Cordella.

text: The answer is empty.

text: The answer is inaccurate because the story talks about justice many times. " vicious hunter, the natives get their revenge when they later tie Cordella to a stake andimmerse her in the pool very slowly. University professor Darwin Bloom, on vacation in an unusual island, rescues Cordella, and she falls in love with him" is evidence that the natives want justice through revenge, according to the story. Cordella's actions were just and did not deserve any more retaliation. Cordella does not deserve revenge as she already paid the natives for their deer with several highly valuable gifts and jewels.

answer: Justice is the name of the protagonist's pet dog.

text: The answer is made up.

text: The response is not related.

text: The answer is inaccurate. The story does not talk about justice.

text: The answer is not related.

text: The answer is false.

text: The answer is made up. There is no information about justice in the text.

answer: Justice is the name of the protagonist's pet dog.

text: This answer is made up. The text doesn't say anything about justice.