A Summary Of The Short-A Short Story

“You’ll make some friends soon, son,” his father said to him as if he had read his mind. “You’ll start school in a few weeks.” Jason had no response. His father had decided to move because of a job offer in Flora, involving lumber. Jason surveyed the house. It was a standard house with three floors, one of them the attic. “Grab some boxes Jason!” his father called, interrupting Jason’s train of thought.

The fresh morning air was cool against my face. Father had been gone for a while now, he had been called by his work for some “serious business.” As my sister Aliah, and I played in the pond by our 2 story house, we heard a faint muttering of Father’s pick-up.

He looked around, then asked his mom where Dad was. She choked a little before explaining, “Dad’s really busy right now with saving more people, like the men who rescued you.”

the houses normal daily routine. Every morning at seven o’clock the house “wakes” up, the

Later that evening, Nell Guthrie sat on the town dock with her beau, Asa Davis. A rain cloud had passed over and drenched Beaufort while Nell was eating supper with her mother and father, but now the western sky was streaked with a sunset of orange, fuchsia and hints of chartreuse. The cloudburst washed the movement out of the air, leaving behind a humid tranquility. Leaning toward her, Asa nuzzled his paramour’s ear, making her tremble. “Where you been hidin’ out, lover? Has your daddy been working you hard?”

“WHAT?! Oh my God!” she screamed with a hint of crying. She bolted out the door, grabbing my brother by the arm, started the car and rushed to the hospital leaving Chloe and

The morning air seeped through the open window as the newly rising sun glowed on the barren rock landscape dome. It wasn’t so barren though, there was small house that laid nestled in the rocks. The house was more like a small shackled shed than an actually house. The house was small and simple, made out of wood equipped with a chicken coop and garden. The house was had one room. In the room was a fireplace, coal burning stove, table for two, and a twin sized bed shoved in the corner. The bed was unmade and a man stood at the stove making his morning breakfast of eggs.

She couldn’t see inside because of the dirt and cobwebs on the windows. When she turned the doorknob to see if it was locked, the door creaked open as if it had been closed for years. Hesitantly she stepped inside the house and saw a group of people sleeping. As she turned around to leave, the floor creaked, so she ran out of the house, afraid she would wake them up.

Breakfast consists of bread, eggs, and a cup of milk for the younger children. Carrie produces much more milk in the green rich fields of San Joaquin Valley. Grandma packs a bag of lunch for the school children. They each get a jelly sandwich and a glass of water. Money is still tight, but not as tight as it was two years ago. Dinner is a little more food. On Sundays they have meat and vegetables. On week days it’s

“You bet.” With a goodbye wave, Frank Kinney pushed his way through the revolving glass door and felt the first blast of cold press against his hot flushed face. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his brand new, brown leather, fur-lined gloves, a Christmas present from Emily and Michael. He thought of them fondly as he stretched the leather over his broad hands and thrust carefully manicured fingers into the warm furry tubes.

Anna sat there wondering why her dog Charlie has been acting so weird lately. It suddenly hits her, Charlie has doggy depression from losing his brother, Gus. Anna decides to confront her mom about this doggy depression, but they end up getting into an argument.

However, early I noticed that the farther I got from the center of the city, the poorer part of the city started to take play. There I was, on the doorsteps to the Darling’s house. Sandymount Avenue 258. There is some parts of the house that were missing but they were just minor. I opened the door and I heard a giant screech from it not being open in forever.

“Hey, you can come up. The key is under the rug,” his mom said. He walked through the passageway. He came upon a courtyard with some old tables and chairs. He walked into his building. Then he jogged up the stairs with his books. He picked up the key from under the rug. He turned the key and walked in. He walked into the wood floor and green wall apartment. His mom was sitting reading on her bed. “Hey, how was your day?”

He took in the calm look on the man’s face, the way his high cheekbones were beautifully illuminated in the orange glow of road lights- making him look almost otherworldly. The faint uptick at the corner of Stu’s lips, the way his stupid blue hair lightly blew with the aircon, the way he drummed his long fingers absently on the steering wheel were inescapable- Murdoc knew.

" Y'ARE very snug in here," piped old Mr. Woodifield, and he peered out of the great, green leather armchair by his friend the boss's desk as a baby peers out of its pram. His talk was over; it was time for him to be off. But he did not want to go. Since he had retired, since his... stroke, the wife and the girls kept him boxed up in the house every day of the week except Tuesday. On Tuesday he was dressed and brushed and allowed to cut back to the City for the day. Though what he did there the wife and girls couldn't imagine. Made a nuisance of himself to his friends, they supposed ... Well, perhaps so. All the same, we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves. So there sat old Woodifield, smoking a cigar and