A Short Story-The Story Of Death's Death?

I asked my mom “what’s wrong,” she replied with a sorrowful “your Aunt Lisa is in trouble, we must leave now.” The worst part of all of this was my Aunt Lisa’s son was with us, Matthew. He did not know what to think or believe. No one knew the world would slowly start shattering beneath all of us that morning. We drove to her house, we saw ambulances and police cars driving by, that did not help our nerves at all. We finally arrived at her apartment, we never thought all of those emergency vehicles would be going there. My brother and I stay in the car since I was only eight and he was only eleven. My mom and cousin run into the apartment hoping to only find my Aunt had fallen and is unconscious, or she is passed out drunk, just let it be something that is not permanent. What they come to find is that my Aunt is laying on the floor, unconscious, but cold as ice. It was not from someone killing her, or us getting there too late. She had died twenty-four minutes before that phone

The stench of death hit my nostrils as I opened the door to go inside, which is why I always hated going to the hospital. We waited the fifteen minute queue, until I heard my name from a nurse. I followed the nurse into a small, beige room. I sat down on the examining table, as my doctor walked in. I told him my symptoms, and he did a quick check up. His cold fingers pressed against my lower back. “Breathe in and out.” He said. I did as told. “Slower.” he exclaimed. At that moment, while I was slowly breathing in and out, I could hear a small click every time I inhaled. The doctor looked up and said, “Ahhh, you seem to have pneumonia.” He explained to my mom and I what that meant because we were clueless. After he finished, he told us that if I waited any longer to go to the hospital, he wouldn’t be speaking to me, which opened my mom’s eyes finally. He told me that I couldn’t go to school for at least another two weeks, gave me a school note and my prescription. We left the hospital. My mom dropped me off, and went to pick up the medication. As I lay in bed, I remember thinking about everything that has happened to me in the past two days, and what the doctor told me. Those thoughts were interrupted by the opening of my bedroom door as my mom walked in. She handed me the medication. I swallowed the pills, and fell asleep. The next morning my mom walks in with a stack of papers. She said, “It’s alright if you’re not able to attend class,

Hook“Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” by Joyce Carol Oates, was originally entitled “Death and the Maiden.” In this short story, Oates provides internal events in the form of excitement and suspense. These internal events are also the climax. Arnold Friend, the demonic adversary, causes Connie, the protagonist, the anguish which drives the plot. Arnold Friend persuades Connie to cross the threshold into the adult world and lose her innocence.

Traditionally, women have been known as the less dominant sex. They have been stereotyped as being only housewives and bearers of the children. Many interesting characters in literature are conceived from the tension women have faced with men. This tension is derived from men; society, in general; and within a woman herself. Kate Chopin‘s short story, “The Story of an Hour”, focus on a woman’s dilemma near the turn of the 19th century. Contradicting the “normal” or sad assumption of death, “The Story of an Hour” illustrates the significance of death representing freedom. The Story narrates about an hour of Louise Mallard’s life, as she tries to understand, and deal with her feelings of her husbands death.

Why was I the one to get pulled? There were so many people at the party and I was the one to get interrogated? My luck. The officer sat me down at a table in a bland room with non-transparent glass. He sat down across from me and looked at me with a death stare. After about a minute or so, he said “ Hello Mr. Khalifa, I’m officer Marcus Hopson”. I sat apprehensively thinking about what to say. “Okay well you already know what you’re in here for, so start talking” Hopson said. All I could do was look down. Once I decided to talk, I said “What are you wanting to hear from me?”. Hopson laughed and turned around to look at me in the reflective glass. Looking at me more intensely in the glass, he said “Don’t play stupid. We know you were at that

Kate decided that she should be a good friend to Jana and help her out. She told Jana that she needed to develop her thoughts more.

Dying was never a good thing, especially when they were someone that you had kwon for such a large percentage of your life. Killed in cold blood was an expression that I knew rather well, it was an expression that I had caused, the amount of people I had shot, stabbed, struggled or whatever else was a huge amount. It was something I wasn’t proud these days, but I use to be so glad when I saw a face of someone I didn’t like lying at the bottom of my feet. The expressions frozen on their face forever. I remember when my dad died, I was eighteen I never got to say goodbye, and the body was lost. Loosing someone wasn’t as bad as seeing everyone else who was still here expression.

There I was, moments ago, on my deathbed at twenty years old moments ago and now here . Too soon to go some would say and it looks as though some greater deity agrees, because here I am waking up in the bed I slept in when I was five, i looked around for any hints to what was happening and saw a scroll with my name written in calligraphy.'Ruby,' it said, 'as you may see you are not in Heaven or Hell. We feel as though you had gotten on the wrong path by one minor mistake. You were supposed to sit with your neighbor, Leon, your first day on the bus, but your bus driver changed the seating arrangements too late for us to notice. That was a mistake on our part, you see when humans are born they get assigned a group of our people to help guide

The battery on my phone was low and I chose not to write her back. A few hours later I received a call from her friend Courtney, Courtney was hysterical “What’s wrong”? I kept asking Courtney if she was okay. She responded real quietly and said “Makayla was in a car accident.” My heart broke into a million pieces I could not believe what I was hearing. I asked if Makayla was okay Courtney remained silent. I asked her again and she said: “She’s dead.” I did not believe what I was hearing. It was extremely hard difficult to comprehend that my dear friend Makayla was dead. I was trying not to cry in front of my family: however, they knew I received bad news. I told them the news I heard and they could not believe it my mom could not hold her tears back, but I knew we had to get home soon so I could be alone. My family and I were on our way home, we were traveling and started over heating it took forever to get home. My boyfriend called and I told him the news and he could not believe it either. How could a nineteen year old be dead? She was to young to die. Her family cremated her remains. Makayla was given a celebration of life. Many people came and talked kindly of

"Come on Phil," I heard a familiar voice and stopped dead in my tracks. It could be, could it? No way. NO WAY! I reached over to Carissa who's attention was averted else where and whispered " Dan and Phil just walked in be cool and act like you don't know them," she looked up from the shirt she was folding and a slight squeal erupted from her mouth as she saw the two tall, pale, Brittish boys, who had just entered the store. We where the only ones there at the time except for our boss who was probably sleeping in his office so Carissa and I were alone in a store with Dan and Phil. "Breath," I had to remind myself, "they're just people, go talk to them!"

We all have a secret we would never tell anyone. Not our closest friends, not our parents, and certainly not even our spouse. Most of us have several secrets we would never reveal. But when we come face to face with our inevitable end of life, the urge to reveal those secrets to the one closest to us is overpowering.

The thing about Love is that it’s a poison. It kills you slowly and beautifully, tricking you into thinking that you aren’t dying but finally living. Love is just the mask that Death wears to hide it’s painful truth for just a single moment of your life. A beautiful lie that lasts for a blinding, lighting moment before the world decides to come crashing down around you, destroying everything that you know.

It was the day that she decided that cranberries would be the best thing for her. Or maybe the thing that caused the death of her?

It was a lovely afternoon. The wind was cool and the air was hot. Let me just say it was an amazing day. Well at least that’s what I thought. Hi i’m lace short for lacy and i’m going to be telling the story of what happened the day i got kidnaped.

I am going to tell you the story of how I died, due to a series of unfortunate events, and a selfish boy. Jack a giddy and thoughtless boy who lived in the woods was being yelled at by his mother a poor widow.