A Short Story : A Story?

One morning, when I shook Sarah’s hand, she didn’t wake up. Her hand felt cold, so I pulled her yellow blanket up around her shoulders. I crawled back into my own bed and waited. Every few minutes I called, “Where’s Sarah?”, but she just kept on sleeping.

Sarah’ life history begins in San José California on November 20th, 1997. She grew up in California up until the sixth grade. She then moved to Toledo Washington, where her family is now. She has one brother and one sister and is equally close with both of them. Her brother is 23 and still lives at home while her sister is one year older than her and it engaged to be married. Sarah has a relatively small family, but most of her relatives still live in California.

The first sign he had of her rejection was the trembling of Rachel's arm in his. She had allowed him to speak and had neither turned her face toward him nor away from him. She had looked straight on and her voice was sad but firm and quiet when she spoke.

In just a matter of months, Sarah has hastily experienced and heard things that she hadn’t thought she would. As she moved into her cousin’s home, she begins to see how the

She has just lost her mother and her father is at war or possibility dead, which is taking a huge toll on her. All these things hit Saranell at time moment in time, causing her to believe she is alone in this dreadful world. This tragedy causes her to doubt herself and her purpose. Her will to go on and fight is challenged, but she was able to overcome with the help of Renny, the family slave. “She put her fingers over her quivering mouth to control the laugh as Renny swooped and caught the piece of cornbread.

“Well, I’m not sure. You’ll have to see. You will have to tell your son and grandsons the story so they know about the curse.” I said.

Sarah shared a strong bond while adventuring out to find Sarahs mother. Ms. Lemry was

"You can call me Jay and this my grandma," exclaimed Jay.  Jay's grandma mostly called Mrs.Wong was a very kind lady she always had her hair in a nice little bun. J's grandma was a mysterious woman she was thought to know the mysteriousness of the mountain.  This was true, she did know ,but when she told J her stories J thought that's all they

Painted Girl cocked her head and stared at Sarah. Sarah’s eyes pleaded with her to stay quiet. She needed to cork her feelings before they bubbled over.

Sally says with a terrified look on her face. “Sally stop screaming,” says Mrs. Chipley. “ Now come on Sally,” says Aunt Sarah with a strict face. Sally has never been to frightened in her life. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Sally,” says Aunt Sarah.

One morning at the breakfast table, Everyone in the royal family was present, Everyone with the exception of Hailey. Sierra couldn't help but glance over to the seat next to her then over to her mother who seemed quite irritated.

Not much was known about Sarah Winchester, after all she was a secretive and mysterious person. She seemed to be content with her life; with her husband and daughter Annie – all was well for them. That was until about forty days after Annie’s birth, which was the day of Annie’s death. It was extremely heart-wrenching for Sarah and William. The death of her daughter plagued Sarah with a lingering sadness that lasted until her death. Things only got unhappier for Sarah…

"Yes, exactly that, now seriously Torrey Ann, I have not much time, or know how to tell you what I need to. The bloodline you carry is connected to the biblical race of God's people."

A literal interpretation of the grandmother portrays an elderly southern woman attempting to maintain the proper and genteel values of the South. The grandmother places great importance on her appearance and the opinions of others. This importance is revealed at the beginning of their journey when the story compares the grandmother, a reflection of the past, to the daughter-in-law, a reflection of the present:

“Be grateful Jenny! We shall stay here and be happy.” Josephine pestered, “Get settled in, and we’ll go straight to the restaurant, we have to open at 11:00 sharp!” It was 9:30 AM and the sun was peeking down from behind a small ivory cloud as if it were a child playing hide and seek with its’ mother. A wave of pungent sweat poured from my grandmother’s pores and dripped off like a rainstorm. In a time period that seemed like weeks, they finally left the shack and embarked on their journey to the new restaurant.