He hurriedly yanked the hood over his head as he ducked out from the shadows and darted across the half-light street. The cobblestones sounded hollowly beneath his feet and Derek sucked in mouthfuls of icy cold air as he dodged through the bowels of the city, clinging to the shadows and breathing in the night.
“Derek?” Shamaya’s whisper wafted through the air. “We’re over here.”
He turned towards the hiss of her voice and followed it along the wind and through the shadows to materialize beside her. “Sham.” He murmured, reaching for her.
She danced lightly out of reach. “Ah, ah. Not yet. You’ve got too many shadows around you.” She gestured to his front. “I said to collect them not play with them.”
He stared down in confusion and then realized that nearly his entire figure had been swallowed whole by the thin, wispy strips of blackness clinging to him. He snickered. “I was trying not to be seen.”
“It worked.” His girlfriend threw her messy braid of hair over one bony shoulder. “Did you pick anything up while scouting?”
“Plenty.” He began to peel the shadows off of him and toss them to the corners of the old warehouse where they could be happy and keep them safe for the time being. “There’s a new watch on tonight and they’ve added to the guard.”
“Added, again?” Shamaya bit her lip. “Heaven help us.” She murmured, tracing a cross in the air before her. “How will we get the converts out of the city?”
“The same way we got in.” Derek said, stoutly. “The shadows.” He pulled the hood off his head and Shamaya gasped.
“That–that!” She sputtered.
He smiled, serenely. “That wasn’t a hoodie after all.”
Hood. She was in the hood. How she got there she didn’t understand. But at this point it didn’t matter. She reflected on how stupid it was to call something a hood, was it really that hard to say neighborhood? She guessed so… but every time she thought of the hood she always thought of a sweatshirt, she just had that kind of a mind.
I pulled my hood up and zipped my jacket. I knew what I was doing, I was going to walk until I had service, then I’d call her. She’d come for me. I just couldn’t handle the screaming anymore. I had to leave. I popped the screen out of my window, left the note on my desk knowing my mom would see it. I jumped out, and walked down the dark street.
Under the hood, you don’t know who I am. Am I peering at you, scared, shy from under the edge of my cowl? Or am I scrutinizing you, analyzing the way you shuffle your feet to conceal your nerves? I hide beneath the hood, and you don’t know what I’m doing.
I do not live in the hood. I do not want to live in the hood, visit the hood, or drive through the hood. Because for all the pop culture references and jokes, to me, the hood will always be the place you go to be mugged, shot, and raped. It will always be the place my father grew up, the place that nurtured him into becoming a heartless bastard.
The backside of Hood with just my annoyance at the would be hikers who didn’t show. I tried taking the dog across the river but could make the leap with her in my arms, she wouldn’t jump. Then you came through the brambles, all brawn and Goodwill cast-offs. Your sunglasses went up, the executioner’s hood came down. The whole world turned that turquoise blue.
Dana ran in the rain and put her hood on. She hated to get her hair wet , knowing it would frizz. She sloshed in the puddles not liking that she still had along ways to go.
I pulled my hood over my head in an attempt to sheild my face from the downpour of rain. It blinded me, blending with my tears, and blurring my vision. I couldn’t see anything but the blur of headlights and the sound of car horns and trains. I realized that I now have absolutely no place to go. I can’t go home because I don’t have one. I can’t retreat to the warm comfort of a friend’s house because I have lost that now. I can’t even return to the solitude of my own mind because I am questioning my sanity. I finally realize my problem. I don’t know this world. My eyes burned with tears and my nose filled with the smell of cigarette smoke. I pulled my hoodie closer to by body, attempting to wrap it completely around myself, to block out this world. This world of scorn and destruction. A world without sugar coating. Everything is misunderstood, settling like fog in the minds and lives of people. Simple mistakes and misjudgements comming to ruin all happiness. This is the story of my life. Eight years ago, my mom and I moved into this small apartment in New York City. Our landlord was probably a pot smoker, and allowed pretty much anything. I used to hate it when I came home to the smell of smoke in the hallway, and have to pull open the heavy apartment door to find my mom in a daze. It felt like we lived on different planets. I had my world, and she had hers. It was a rare time when we could just talk, enjoying the rare company of a commonly seen person. As I sit here on the damp sidewalk next to the rainy seattle bus sign, I begin to wonder what it would have been like if I never asked for more. If I would have stayed on the path I was walking on, trying to overcome the obstacles in my way, and savoring what little warmth did wander on my trail. I pulled my duffle bag onto my lap and used the cuff of my sweatshirt to wipe my eyes. I guess I’ll never know what would have happened if I stayed. If I never left Mom.
What’s under your hood?
A broken engine, running on an inch of gas?
Empty of oil, producing toxic fumes?
Sounds a bit like your soul–
dead and useless.
“Hush.” Eileen was shaking my shoulder; her face was pale and drawn. “Sirens.”
In the distance, now, I could hear them: the low-high wail of the air raid sirens in the city over the hill.
I was walking through our dirty neighborhood. Years-old posters hang, ripped and pathetic, on the brick walls. My steps were echoing through the street. Not usually empty at this time, but I keep walking, my senses alert, always alert no matter what day it is.
whenever i think of hood i think of my wonderful dance team. we just went to USA nationals and placed third for our hip hop routine.
in the routine we wore hoods. at first i didn’t like this idea. but as i reflect on the use of the hood, it united us. it made us look like we were one body. not one person stood out.
and we finished as if we were one. a small team with big dreams. we did it.
Andy Hood is one of my closest friends. He knows almost everything about me without having to ask. We are “kindred spirits,” as Anne of Green Gables would say. If Anne were real, she would probably be dead. I wonder when LM Montgomery wrote Anne of Green Gables. It was a long time ago. I hate to think of Anne of Green Gables as a corpse.
Robin Hood, of course, and his band of Merry, Merry Men…but have you seen the Muffin Man who lives on Dreary Lane? Not Drury. Dreary, because his hooded eyes are so unhappy, and the poor creations he makes will never stick around. Robin Hood comes and steals them all – says he’s too rich and must give to the poor. Rich in coins perhaps, but not in friends…
Troy lifts the hood of his jacket over his head, the night is cold and it’s just a little scary, but he remembers he has the Batman symbol pocket flash light that Abed gave him for Christmas and it calms him down a little, it also makes his chest hurt. He glances up at the apartment, their apartment, and he wonders if Abed will remember to turn the lights off and lock the door.
The Disney cartoon is the one that comes to mind. How good looking was that Robin Hood? Amazing what they can convey with good animation. What I remembered most, though, was the kid character who idolized him. Like a “Thumper.” I wonder how many other kids remembered that character above all else?
Over my eyes, my lids conceal the truth by closing again and again in layers. The covering that prevents me from seeing and being seen, that can be used for multiple motives.
Things had been different, since the wolf. No one had treated her so carefully before, so delicately. Which was so odd, because now she felt stronger. The wolf had not taken her. What could anyone else do?
Before this time, when I didn’t used to hid from myself, I was able to show myself. Now I’m not able to see the world. I’m facing down to the world and my hood hides myself. I can’t rise my head up and I’ll never do.
It was warm beneath of the cover of awkward reverence and a slight peach-juice silliness. We sat cross legged on the veranda, blanket draped over four shoulders and a silence that simmered between us. The smell of banana pudding clung child-like to the palms of our hands and we just were.
the hood of my jacket fell off as i ran, i felt my long hair flowing behind me like a cape. i ran, running, running. running until it was me and the universe. one. running until i forgot everything. running until my mind was empty, till my heart was empty.
Cause the boys in the hood are always hard
come talkin’ that trash, we’ll pull ya card
knowin’ nuttin’ in life but to be legit
don’t quote me boy I ain’t said sh*t
lol. I love the cover by dynamite hack. check it out…. heh.
The man was wearing a hood,
hunched over
like a bat sleeping in a dark cave,
and he was wearing sneakers.
I remember his silhouette
as he walked down the hill,
and I wondered
where was he going.
What would anyone do
at three in the morning
that was not disconcerting.
And I wondered,
what was I doing.
His brunette hair covered his enigmatic eyes like a hood, yet I did not mind. That little thing made me fall deeper in love with him each day. I admire him, faults in all. But, this sweet guy I have not known long. And my theory is that I shall never love someone if they don’t love me back. Does he love me?
my black hood was over my head. i felt so depressed i didn’t know what to do or how to express my feelings… but then this wet drop ran down my cheek… finally my solution was to just cry
hood – It stares at me, that word does. It looks like a factory with two huge round windows for eyes. Without having to say anything it screams: GET TO WORK!
She could hear the heavy breathing, just over her left shoulder. She paused, afraid to turn round. Afraid to keep walking. She felt a hand reach onto her shoulder. She catches a reflection in the window. The hood.
Of what significance is a hood? It plays no role in changing lives; it may seem to offer comfort for when the air is too chilled, but is rather inconvenient. Its inconvenience hinders its practicality and renders it virtually uselessl
ugh um ah eh um clitoral hoods can be many different lengths?! also ROBIN HOOD is my ultimate hero. also hooded assasins like assasin’s creed. also i can’t spell assasin. double letters are hard… double letters like the double letters in the middle of hood. actually, robin hood was originally robin hode, and was dressed in lincoln graine, a red, not green, and many people thought that actually it was to do with encouraging soldiers to dress well and by moral chivalric. i think hood is actually a great word
He covered his face with hood, dreading having to go outside. It was so cold and blistery. He sighed and headed out anyways. Walking through the snow he heard his shoes stomp through it. “Crunch Crunch Crunch”. It was like he was Godzilla, ransacking a city with his feet.
the hood of my jacket kept me from gettind wet.I never got wet when it was raining because i had a protective hood on my head.Every one else was trying to get under the pavillion but i didnt have to thanks to my amazing hood.
She pulled the strings of her gray hood tighter and crossed her arms over her chest as she walked on through the gloom. Small icy drops of rain spattered her face and clothing. It didnt matter, the hysteria she was feeling in this infintismal moment blocked out all reception of cold,pain, and fear. Only one thought registered in her panicked mind,she quikened her pace as it echoed alone in her mind with clarity. Freedom.
He hurriedly yanked the hood over his head as he ducked out from the shadows and darted across the half-light street. The cobblestones sounded hollowly beneath his feet and Derek sucked in mouthfuls of icy cold air as he dodged through the bowels of the city, clinging to the shadows and breathing in the night.
“Derek?” Shamaya’s whisper wafted through the air. “We’re over here.”
He turned towards the hiss of her voice and followed it along the wind and through the shadows to materialize beside her. “Sham.” He murmured, reaching for her.
She danced lightly out of reach. “Ah, ah. Not yet. You’ve got too many shadows around you.” She gestured to his front. “I said to collect them not play with them.”
He stared down in confusion and then realized that nearly his entire figure had been swallowed whole by the thin, wispy strips of blackness clinging to him. He snickered. “I was trying not to be seen.”
“It worked.” His girlfriend threw her messy braid of hair over one bony shoulder. “Did you pick anything up while scouting?”
“Plenty.” He began to peel the shadows off of him and toss them to the corners of the old warehouse where they could be happy and keep them safe for the time being. “There’s a new watch on tonight and they’ve added to the guard.”
“Added, again?” Shamaya bit her lip. “Heaven help us.” She murmured, tracing a cross in the air before her. “How will we get the converts out of the city?”
“The same way we got in.” Derek said, stoutly. “The shadows.” He pulled the hood off his head and Shamaya gasped.
“That–that!” She sputtered.
He smiled, serenely. “That wasn’t a hoodie after all.”
Hood. She was in the hood. How she got there she didn’t understand. But at this point it didn’t matter. She reflected on how stupid it was to call something a hood, was it really that hard to say neighborhood? She guessed so… but every time she thought of the hood she always thought of a sweatshirt, she just had that kind of a mind.
I pulled my hood up and zipped my jacket. I knew what I was doing, I was going to walk until I had service, then I’d call her. She’d come for me. I just couldn’t handle the screaming anymore. I had to leave. I popped the screen out of my window, left the note on my desk knowing my mom would see it. I jumped out, and walked down the dark street.
Under the hood, you don’t know who I am. Am I peering at you, scared, shy from under the edge of my cowl? Or am I scrutinizing you, analyzing the way you shuffle your feet to conceal your nerves? I hide beneath the hood, and you don’t know what I’m doing.
I do not live in the hood. I do not want to live in the hood, visit the hood, or drive through the hood. Because for all the pop culture references and jokes, to me, the hood will always be the place you go to be mugged, shot, and raped. It will always be the place my father grew up, the place that nurtured him into becoming a heartless bastard.
The backside of Hood with just my annoyance at the would be hikers who didn’t show. I tried taking the dog across the river but could make the leap with her in my arms, she wouldn’t jump. Then you came through the brambles, all brawn and Goodwill cast-offs. Your sunglasses went up, the executioner’s hood came down. The whole world turned that turquoise blue.
Dana ran in the rain and put her hood on. She hated to get her hair wet , knowing it would frizz. She sloshed in the puddles not liking that she still had along ways to go.
I pulled my hood over my head in an attempt to sheild my face from the downpour of rain. It blinded me, blending with my tears, and blurring my vision. I couldn’t see anything but the blur of headlights and the sound of car horns and trains. I realized that I now have absolutely no place to go. I can’t go home because I don’t have one. I can’t retreat to the warm comfort of a friend’s house because I have lost that now. I can’t even return to the solitude of my own mind because I am questioning my sanity. I finally realize my problem. I don’t know this world. My eyes burned with tears and my nose filled with the smell of cigarette smoke. I pulled my hoodie closer to by body, attempting to wrap it completely around myself, to block out this world. This world of scorn and destruction. A world without sugar coating. Everything is misunderstood, settling like fog in the minds and lives of people. Simple mistakes and misjudgements comming to ruin all happiness. This is the story of my life. Eight years ago, my mom and I moved into this small apartment in New York City. Our landlord was probably a pot smoker, and allowed pretty much anything. I used to hate it when I came home to the smell of smoke in the hallway, and have to pull open the heavy apartment door to find my mom in a daze. It felt like we lived on different planets. I had my world, and she had hers. It was a rare time when we could just talk, enjoying the rare company of a commonly seen person. As I sit here on the damp sidewalk next to the rainy seattle bus sign, I begin to wonder what it would have been like if I never asked for more. If I would have stayed on the path I was walking on, trying to overcome the obstacles in my way, and savoring what little warmth did wander on my trail. I pulled my duffle bag onto my lap and used the cuff of my sweatshirt to wipe my eyes. I guess I’ll never know what would have happened if I stayed. If I never left Mom.
“Your blue eyes hidden beneath your hood…” A bottomless well of your thoughts, feelings, ideas. Let me drink up your music, laughter and joy.
What’s under your hood?
A broken engine, running on an inch of gas?
Empty of oil, producing toxic fumes?
Sounds a bit like your soul–
dead and useless.
“Hush.” Eileen was shaking my shoulder; her face was pale and drawn. “Sirens.”
In the distance, now, I could hear them: the low-high wail of the air raid sirens in the city over the hill.
I was walking through our dirty neighborhood. Years-old posters hang, ripped and pathetic, on the brick walls. My steps were echoing through the street. Not usually empty at this time, but I keep walking, my senses alert, always alert no matter what day it is.
hood
whenever i think of hood i think of my wonderful dance team. we just went to USA nationals and placed third for our hip hop routine.
in the routine we wore hoods. at first i didn’t like this idea. but as i reflect on the use of the hood, it united us. it made us look like we were one body. not one person stood out.
and we finished as if we were one. a small team with big dreams. we did it.
Andy Hood is one of my closest friends. He knows almost everything about me without having to ask. We are “kindred spirits,” as Anne of Green Gables would say. If Anne were real, she would probably be dead. I wonder when LM Montgomery wrote Anne of Green Gables. It was a long time ago. I hate to think of Anne of Green Gables as a corpse.
Robin Hood, of course, and his band of Merry, Merry Men…but have you seen the Muffin Man who lives on Dreary Lane? Not Drury. Dreary, because his hooded eyes are so unhappy, and the poor creations he makes will never stick around. Robin Hood comes and steals them all – says he’s too rich and must give to the poor. Rich in coins perhaps, but not in friends…
Troy lifts the hood of his jacket over his head, the night is cold and it’s just a little scary, but he remembers he has the Batman symbol pocket flash light that Abed gave him for Christmas and it calms him down a little, it also makes his chest hurt. He glances up at the apartment, their apartment, and he wonders if Abed will remember to turn the lights off and lock the door.
Hood
Robin
The Disney cartoon is the one that comes to mind. How good looking was that Robin Hood? Amazing what they can convey with good animation. What I remembered most, though, was the kid character who idolized him. Like a “Thumper.” I wonder how many other kids remembered that character above all else?
Over my eyes, my lids conceal the truth by closing again and again in layers. The covering that prevents me from seeing and being seen, that can be used for multiple motives.
Little red riding hood walked down the path.
Things had been different, since the wolf. No one had treated her so carefully before, so delicately. Which was so odd, because now she felt stronger. The wolf had not taken her. What could anyone else do?
Before this time, when I didn’t used to hid from myself, I was able to show myself. Now I’m not able to see the world. I’m facing down to the world and my hood hides myself. I can’t rise my head up and I’ll never do.
It was warm beneath of the cover of awkward reverence and a slight peach-juice silliness. We sat cross legged on the veranda, blanket draped over four shoulders and a silence that simmered between us. The smell of banana pudding clung child-like to the palms of our hands and we just were.
the hood of my jacket fell off as i ran, i felt my long hair flowing behind me like a cape. i ran, running, running. running until it was me and the universe. one. running until i forgot everything. running until my mind was empty, till my heart was empty.
Cause the boys in the hood are always hard
come talkin’ that trash, we’ll pull ya card
knowin’ nuttin’ in life but to be legit
don’t quote me boy I ain’t said sh*t
lol. I love the cover by dynamite hack. check it out…. heh.
The man was wearing a hood,
hunched over
like a bat sleeping in a dark cave,
and he was wearing sneakers.
I remember his silhouette
as he walked down the hill,
and I wondered
where was he going.
What would anyone do
at three in the morning
that was not disconcerting.
And I wondered,
what was I doing.
I threw the hood over my head when the rain started to pour down from the sky. Luckily, my head did not get wet,
His brunette hair covered his enigmatic eyes like a hood, yet I did not mind. That little thing made me fall deeper in love with him each day. I admire him, faults in all. But, this sweet guy I have not known long. And my theory is that I shall never love someone if they don’t love me back. Does he love me?
my black hood was over my head. i felt so depressed i didn’t know what to do or how to express my feelings… but then this wet drop ran down my cheek… finally my solution was to just cry
hood – It stares at me, that word does. It looks like a factory with two huge round windows for eyes. Without having to say anything it screams: GET TO WORK!
She pulled her hood up as she walked down the dark alley. She felt a presence behind her yet she wasn’t afraid, she was ready for whatever it may be.
Tom opened the hood of his car.
“I see no purpose in this,” Seven stated.
“It’s fun! It’s a Camaro!” Tom insisted.
“It’s a hologram,” Seven said.
“…yes, but it’s till fun to work on it,” Tom said.
She could hear the heavy breathing, just over her left shoulder. She paused, afraid to turn round. Afraid to keep walking. She felt a hand reach onto her shoulder. She catches a reflection in the window. The hood.
Of what significance is a hood? It plays no role in changing lives; it may seem to offer comfort for when the air is too chilled, but is rather inconvenient. Its inconvenience hinders its practicality and renders it virtually uselessl
ugh um ah eh um clitoral hoods can be many different lengths?! also ROBIN HOOD is my ultimate hero. also hooded assasins like assasin’s creed. also i can’t spell assasin. double letters are hard… double letters like the double letters in the middle of hood. actually, robin hood was originally robin hode, and was dressed in lincoln graine, a red, not green, and many people thought that actually it was to do with encouraging soldiers to dress well and by moral chivalric. i think hood is actually a great word
I went out with one once. He was cool. He lived hard and died young. But he sure lived. Ernie, the hood.
He covered his face with hood, dreading having to go outside. It was so cold and blistery. He sighed and headed out anyways. Walking through the snow he heard his shoes stomp through it. “Crunch Crunch Crunch”. It was like he was Godzilla, ransacking a city with his feet.
The hood is up to their old tricks again.
Little red riding hood is coming for a visit.
Hood am I wearing my Hood?
the hood of my jacket kept me from gettind wet.I never got wet when it was raining because i had a protective hood on my head.Every one else was trying to get under the pavillion but i didnt have to thanks to my amazing hood.
She pulled the strings of her gray hood tighter and crossed her arms over her chest as she walked on through the gloom. Small icy drops of rain spattered her face and clothing. It didnt matter, the hysteria she was feeling in this infintismal moment blocked out all reception of cold,pain, and fear. Only one thought registered in her panicked mind,she quikened her pace as it echoed alone in her mind with clarity. Freedom.
I pulled my hood up in an attempt to shield myself from the rain. It must be nearly three a.m. by now. It’ been a long night, and it’s not over yet.