A Short Story

One cold evening, passing by the graveyard it felt like something was watching me. Regretting every step I took as I heard my boots clink against the cold, rubbled cement. A shrill echoed throughout the mist and my hair immediately stood on end and a shiver raced down my spine as a lump came to my throat. The gravestones stood still, row upon row like soldiers lining up to march, then another ear-splitting shrill pronounced the air as I cupped my ears. It stopped. I began bustling home quicker and quicker as the palms of my hands began to profusely sweat and get colder. I turned to my right and there was a house which didn't seem to have anybody living in it. The house was caked in grime and some windows weren't quite right. They were off center and even some were boarded up, only leaving the slimmest of crawlers to struggle to get through. The overgrown branches covered the doorway leading in as if it was warning me to stay away. Some say the house hadn’t been lived in for seven years and as people walk by they can hear noises from inside. I stopped and stared. I noticed a woman and man standing in the window, staring at every move I made. She looked about her mid 80s with tubes running around her ears and into her nose. I slowly walked, then sprinted as if I stole something. I then finally got home and my father, Liam, was sitting in the recliner with his broken down rugged cane. I slung my backpack around my back, threw it off, and ran up to him and gave him a big hug. He

While the rest of the team had fallen asleep, I still laid awake lost in thought. We have already been on this plane for nineteen hours and thirty minutes. Which means we only have 20 minutes left on this horrible flight. I started to consider if we should've chosen a different airline, but then I realized I only dislike the 20 hours on this plane. I probably would've enjoyed this plane more if it wasn’t 20 hours. I don’t really know why, because I do enjoy the peacefulness I find on all planes.

Coates took another sip of coffee before going out and returning with Kia Bennett. She introduced her to Akiona and

JOHANNA’S AX SLICED INTO the floor beneath her and she breathed in heavily, smirking menacingly at a slightly shocked Katniss and Peeta, who had just entered the training room. Reeve sat on the steps that led up to the platform that Johanna practiced on.

Arken chuckled softly as he ghosted his fingertips across her trembling forearms. “My gods, you’re so strong ...” he purred, and the huskiness in his voice almost made her gag.

A wave of fury heats my chest, melting the icy fingers. However, I can't determine who I'm more enraged with, him or me.

Uh, young Hannah, oh the poor child. Her laughter turns to tears and her candy gets stolen. This is the story of how she almost died trying to get back what was hers and capture the thief.

“This is our cafatorium.” The mayor said as they entered a large room next to the factory. “I sorry, you 're what?” Kris asked. “Our cafatorium,” the mayor repeated. “It’s a combination cafeteria and an auditorium.” Pointing to one of the long walls the mayor said, “The cafeteria serving line is on that wall.” “We have enough tables and chairs in here to seat everyone who works in the factory and then some.”

This story is going to be about a woman who tried her best at something that no one else in her family tried to do. To those who knew her, she was a stubborn woman who didn't like to determine her life based on what others wanted her to do. She led her own way through life, she had moments where she made mistakes but she learned and carried on in life. This is the story of a family woman from Ewa Beach who wanted to further her education for her family.

At some point in life we have all asked ourselves or have been asked what our reactions would be to endure a life altering tragedy. Some believe that they could never live through it and others naïvely think that life will continue is normal, taking for granted all the things in life a tragedy can take away from us. There are all kinds of tragedies in life, some people overcome them and some will give up, surrendering to the statistical fact that has been laid out for them. I personally know someone who beat his odds at life’s unexpected traumatic events, my husband Keith. Let me walk you through his remarkable story.

Today is the day, I told myself, as I walked into my room. Today is the day. Today is the day that I’m going to overcome my writer’s block and start writing my story. I placed my bookbag down on my bed and take out my laptop. I kicked my shoes off, grabbed some clothes, and proceeded to take a shower. After I took a good shower, I ran down stairs to grab a Pop-Tart and quickly dashed back upstairs to my room. I placed my laptop on my cluttered desk, and opened the screen. It doesn’t even have to be a paragraph. It can just be… a simple brainstorm… Just write something… Microsoft Word booted up. Just write something… I placed my hand on the keyboard. Just write something...

I open the first door of the local diner to escape the crisp chilly morning air. Pausing for a moment, I soak in the warmth before opening the second door. Immediately the aroma of coffee overwhelms my nostrils. The tiny diner has only ten cheap, white tables and black metal chairs with red padding on the seats. I select the table closest to the window, sitting with my back to the wall, the window on my right, and the rest of the diner in front and slightly to the left of me. The diner is located on the corner of a square in Jonesboro, IL and has been open for about ten minutes. The only people in the diner are four men and myself. Then men are all dressed simple, blending in with the simple diner. One man is dressed in a blue, white, and black flannel that is tucked in with a phone clipped to his jeans. Another man has square-shaped glasses perched on his nose and is dressed in a white-buttoned down shirt. The third man also has square-shaped glasses and is dressed in overalls with a plain white shirt underneath it. The fourth man is dressed in jeans with a simple Anna-Jonesboro High School t-shirt. As I sit there gazing at the four men, I wonder why they are here; what are their intentions of coming to a diner at 6:40 in the morning?

… I was making my bed, having received strict orders from Bessie to get it arranged before she returned (for Bessie now frequently employed me as a sort of under-nursery maid, to tidy the room, dust the chairs, etc.). Having spread the quilt and folded my night-dress, I went to the window seat to put in order some of the picture books and doll’s house furniture scattered there; an abrupt command from Georgiana to let her playthings alone (for the tiny chairs and mirrors, the fairy plates and cups, were her property) stopped my proceedings; and then, for lack of other occupation, I fell to breathing on the frost- flowers with which the window was fretted, and thus clearing a space in the glass through which I might look out on the grounds,

About an hour later, Phillip and his parents sat down together to watch one of the cinema record files that was stored on his notepad computer. The house’s mainframe computer had linked the tiny device’s hard drive up to its server so the record could be played on the home’s master television viewing screen.

Great news! Your niece will be home soon. That's wonderful news. There's no us, Cosmo.