A Standalone: A Short Story

Fancy a gorgeous woman in her early forties, with fire engine red hair, a prosperous business woman with a successful escort service, a penthouse in Brooklyn and a jet plane. Her pilot, Samuel and private assistant, Leona accompanied her,

The single story, an idea crafted by a Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, where “complex human beings and situations are reduced to a single narrative” (NewYorkTimes). An example of the single story she introduces are the negative views people have about Africa. Meaning how people see Africans as starving and dying savages, when in reality Africans are intelligent, civilized, and friendly people with a rich and beautiful culture. The single story is a term that allows people to see societies view and perspectives, and put them to side to make room for a new story. There are more single story cases then the one about Africa, there are large single stories—Lifestyles in foreign lands, a certain view on a type of people, the clothing you wear—then there are smaller

The sun was high in the sky, gleaming down on us. The air was breezy, but not cold. The day was ordinary, or so it seemed. But what was out of place? That would be my brother, the only person who could possibly get himself into such a situation, with his impossible ability to almost die, but just miss the mark. As he sat there on the ground with his back to us, legs sprawled out in front of him, we didn’t even realize that there was anything wrong. Hold on a second. Let’s rewind this just a little.

There is a single story that exists about me but it’s not the whole story, just a part. Some people can see a Mexican and judge them by, only, what they know. Mexicans men are seen as illiterate criminals and women are seen as hypersexual. Both genders are portrayed as lazy, filthy and, unattractive menaces.

Many individuals are stripped away from their independence and happiness in order to please a larger part of society. Both short stories well develop the theme of individuality by demonstrating how authoritative power plays a major role in shaping Mrs. Fullerton and the young child’s role in their community. Mrs. Fullerton and the child are restricted from their autonomy and bliss due to powerful and greedy individuals setting up plans that demonize their joy in exchange for a more cheerful life for themselves.

My concerns for this situation would be her past attachment to me as a case worker.

But this morning was too much. I didn’t mean for her to end up in hospital. She was wrong about me, she thought I wasn’t capable of it. So did I.

Jealousy crept through my body when my parents told me that they were going to dinner in the Willis Tower. Who wouldn’t want to eat on an upper floor of the formerly world’s tallest building? My brother and I waved them goodbye as they pulled out of the driveway. I walked upstairs to my room and opened YouTube on my computer. Nothing seemed amiss.

Tomorrow you must leave. I don't want to hear any stories. Yes.

I sit in the bowling alley bathroom floor on a Saturday night with, Kennedy, Sarra, Kamryn, and Hallee terrified that there’s going to be someone breaking in and shooting us all. Hallee Lincoln and I sit on the floor and hold the door closed, Hallee calls the police and tells them that there is someone at the bowling alley door with a gun and we’re sitting in the bathroom trying to keep safe. All that I know is: I came here just to have a fun night, there’s a shooter running around Glenwood, who knows who the shooter shot, and there’s a man outside with a gun. Someone is trying to push the door open and Hallee and I look at each other with terror and push as hard as we can to keep the door closed.

“Can you hurry up? You’ve been in the bathroom for forty-five minutes!” Sophia yells through the bathroom door.

Alexander munched on a hobnob as he told them what to do. 'I need you to talk to Catkin. You must tell him he’ll be rescued soon. Just a few more hours. But before that, he must spy for us around Seashell Bay; the village, the harbour, the houses, the people. Tell him to watch out and not get caught. He is vital to our mission!' He wrote the word VITAL in block capitals on the chalkboard and underlined it several times.

Anna had been waiting anxiously in the orphanage for 8 years. Every day losing more and more hope of getting adopted. One rainy afternoon when Anna's hope was drifting further and further away, a woman in all black entered the orphanage. She smelled of ginger and old perfume. Her heels clicked down the hall, echoing through the room, suddenly the clicking stopped and Anna looked up. There she was standing right in front of Anna.

I remember that sad day when my parents died. My dad died first, but my mom fought and fought for her life. She told me just before she died that I needed to pack up all of my stuff as I was moving with my aunt and uncle.

"Can you elaborate?" She was starting to get annoyed with his short answers and dodges. If he caused her to lose her free meal she was going to... she didn't know just what at that moment but if he gave her a chance to debate his death, she was going to come up with a very creative option.