A Short Story : The Story Of A Boy's Story

Not the best way to start a story because it happens to everyone, but my birth was actually not like usual ones. From what I have been told, it was that there was a lot of screaming and cursing.The chaos was not about me, not yet, but it was what was going on immediately after I came into this world.

Stories have themes, or a message the author is trying to tell the readers. A similar theme they have is that "new situations can cause discomfort." I believe this theme applies to both stories.

He was on his way home when the accident happened. Everyone thought it was because of the rain and in a way, that was true. It had been bucketing down, making it hard to see through the heavy rain drops on the windscreen even with the headlights on. The front end of her red car had crumpled from impact, making the windscreen implode with shattered glass. The front passenger door was torn from it hinges laying several metres away and the front wheels had spun off their axis into the night. There had been so much noise. A choir of grinding, exploding, popping and then finally the soft silence of the night.

On an early Monday morning the sun rises over a small house located in a quiet town by the name of Old City of Rhoads in Greece. When the sun hits the small house, the house looks even smaller and the shadow of the house outlines the old looking torn apart boards holding the roof together. Even though this house looks old and small everyone in the town knows the story behind the man who used to live there, and the family who lives there now. The man who build and used to live in the house went by the name of Floyd Blackwood. Floyd was a master fisher man and would bring food to the town for family’s to buy and eat, because the town of Old City of Rhoads has always had a shortage of livestock. Floyd was basically a hero. He would spend his nights fishing, and his days building a house for him, his wife, and son. One day Floyd finished the house. And while his wife and son were settling in he decided to go fishing on his boat. Floyd went out to sea and started fishing but, before he could even realize how late it was and turn around he was trapped in a sea storm and did not make it out alive. The small house is now owned by Floyd’s wife, violet who lives with her now 17- year old son John.

This is the story of a girl who was betrayed by both her mother and her father. Those children who grow up with both parents in the household are truly lucky, that is a small blessing that should not be taken for granted. Let me start by introducing the heroine of this sad tale, her name is Che’Tara and she was sixteen years of age at the time of the incident. Being sixteen she faced all the problems that any sophmore in highschool faced, but her problems extended past those four walls. Having just recently overcame a gastrointestinal problem she was attempting to reach a proper weight so she could attempt to be healthy, but it was hard when she had no desire to eat and barley even wanted to go home each day. You see, she had problems at home. Her mother's girlfriend would cuss at her and threaten her, needless to say, she faced verbal and mental abuse and danced with pysical abuse. Stripped of her self esteem and made to believe that she was nothing more than a waste of space, she didn't believe that there was anything else that could be taken from her - oh how she was wrong. Sunday November 24, 2013 was the day that would change her life forever.

The red scarfed girl wanted the girl to try out for a dance team but her grandma dad and mom didn’t want her to do the try out because they think the pressure i gonna make the girl cry but the girl doesn’t care about the pressure after the girl laughed but when she got there she was scared she didn’t want to show her face then the teacher said what’s wrong and she stuttered and said i am not going then she bowed and twisted her hair in her red scarf and someone said what are u crazy?this is a once in a lifetime the teacher was concern why she didn’t want to go she lied and said she tried hard not to cry and she said my father wouldn’t let me…. The girl was

She kept absolutely still as the footsteps behind her became louder. The heels of their shoes clicking against the cold hard stone floor. The footsteps stopped, but she could feel hot breath on her neck. They quickly grabbed both of her arms and twisted them behind her back. The girl whimpered in pain as cold tears rolled down her cheeks. "Is this fate?" She asked herself. But before she could even answer, a rag was put up to her face. The fumes seeped up her nose and before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

“Momma?” Sylvia asked when she suddenly felt her mother let go of her hand. “Momma, where did you go?”

“What the hell were you thinking Genevieve?!” Sophia looked up the moment that she heard her father’s loud and angry voice. She was shocked for a moment. Not that he was angry with her and yelling. But because she wasn’t sure what she did this time to cause him to come angry enough to find her and start yelling. She knew that she wasn’t loved by anyone in this family. She was a horrible mistake. A mistake that came out of a drunk one night stand that meant nothing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Sir,” She mumbled the last word. Knowing if she didn’t show complete respect she’d be slapped if not worse. She looked slightly to the right and saw her step-mother and one of her older half-siblings. At first she didn’t think anything of it. Aurora was being comforted by her mother as she sobbed. It wasn’t strange. Her siblings, especially her older sisters, loved getting her into trouble for things that she hadn’t done. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screamed as he shoved a magazine at her face, so close that she couldn’t make anything out. Sophia wanted to come up with a sarcastic reply. Or even call him out for being a jerk or a horrible father. Except she could remember exactly what that would result in. And Sophia really didn’t want to deal with the bruises.

It's three in the morning. THREE in the freaking morning on a Sunday. A school night and I still can't come up with a plot for my short story.

According to the picture on the Connecticut driver’s license, we found in the house the deceased woman was Katherine Lincoln,” Detective Wallace said.

“Fine, thank you. Have you found anything new about who murdered my mother?” Marlene asked.

This is a story about a girl named Kelly her parents just died in a car accident. She was only in 9th grade her first year of high school when they died. For their funeral her Aunt Michelle came from California. She was so upset. But her aunt is taking her to move to California with her. So then she has been there for one month.

I was at New York, Brooklyn to be exact I was there to visit my families like my cousins my grandparents my aunts and my uncles. I was sleeping at my cousin's apartment I was cramped on the top bunk with my cousin Nadine she's the same age as me. Nadine and I were 10. finally, I woke up and so did Nadine we climb the ladder down to the living room which is right next to the bedrooms we slump on the couch and turn the tv on.

Daisy motioned for me to sit down and she sat opposite. “When we moved here and heard the stories I was intrigued, but it wasn’t until two years ago and we were pulling down the back fence that I figured it out.”