Aaron's Gift Short Story

Complete intelligence of the mystery of nature is an impossible task. Ron Rash’s short story, “Something Rich and Strange”, displays that human nature does not allow individuals to comprehend the mystery of nature while living. Authors use literary elements to add depth to their writing and help support the meaning. In “Something Rich and Strange” Rash uses symbolism and plot to show the reader what understanding characters such as the drowned girl, the sheriff, and the diver have obtained about the mystery of nature.

Verin watched a group of young soldiers grapple behind the mess tent. He split his time between checking on Fynta and offering pointers when one of the guys showed bad form. So far, comms were still offline to the group that had entered the temple, but Verin didn’t worry. Fynta was impossible to kill, and he had little stake in the others. Granted, he rather liked the Togruta. She’d fought well on Tython.

If you and I make sure that we are honest in the small things, then we can be sure that we will be honest in the big things. If people know that they can trust us in small things, they will know that they can trust us in the big things

You shouldn’t trust everyone. This is shown in “Young Goodman Brown” by Washington Irving, and “ The Devil and Tom Walker”by Nathaniel Hawthorne. This idea is developed through the characterization, plot and setting. People should not always trust everyone they are around because they sometimes cannot be trustworthy.

Ernest Hemingway once said that "The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them." He clearly knew that the only way to know if you could trust someone is to give them a chance to break their trust. The theme of the story, The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi, is to know people before you trust them, for not everyone can be trusted.

She was starting to acknowledge how far down in her memory she'd covered her teenage years. Each and every birthday new years Christmas and even her first date was spent in her great tall tale books.Piled high on her old book rack was every affection story disaster and experience fable you could think. From Cinderella and Prince Charming to The Princess and the frog , Mel was a tall tale herself.When she was 6, she accepted she could fly simply like Peter Pan , so she bounced off the cooler and broke her arm, Ms Abby was upset to the point that day. Her face covered in these books with nothing better to do than acknowledge cite and reqoute each line she knew like the back of her hand. She even put on plays with her encourage kin for Ms Abby,

What would you do if you found $500? I walked out of my house on a warm, sunny day in May. It felt like it was going to be like any other summer day, my Mom and I driving around, running errands, and our first stop, Target. After coming out of Target, where we went to get the random miscellaneous things that we needed I saw it…What I saw was a wad of green, a green color I know so well. Tucked amongst the rocks in a median there lie a wad of the cleanest, crispest $50 bills. Shocked, my mom and I counted the bills, there were $500. “Oh my gosh,” she exclaimed, “there is $500 here!” Being luck enough to find $500, I knew exactly how to spend it.

A ton of famous quotes are also about trust. I chose the quote “Never trust the artist. Trust the tale. The proper function of a critic is to save the tale from the artist that created it.” -D.H. Lawrence, Studies in Class American Literature. This quote means That you can’t trust everything you see and hear, you should trust the real story instead of rumors people make. I used the book of quotations to help find this

Bill was an ordinary short guy. One day he was walking down the street wishing that he could do something useful, when he noticed a teenage girl being mugged in an alleyway. He looked for somebody to help her. He was alone. He turned back around and a glimmer caught his eye. It was a glass shard in the trashcan. He picked it up and snuck up on the two brutish men who sat there tantalizing the woman. Then he jumped up and stabbed one of the men in the neck and as the other man turned Bill kicked him and sliced open the brutes forehead. The woman was rushedly calling the police and Bill realized his life wasn’t so pointless after

He started drinking alcohol when he was 15 years old. He drank 1-2 drinks at a time and 2-3 times a week. He never liked beer, just for social. He drank heavily since his wife died of cancer when he was 42 years old. He was grieving and felt sad for the loss and “drink to cope with emotional pain.” Being lonely in the house, he drank to bed. In the morning, instead of coffee, he would have a shot to get going. He was rushed to emergency department 10 years ago by his friend. After that, he stopped using the alcohol and went through Father Ashley’s program in 1.5 years later. He kept clean for the last 8 years and worked as a manager at a car dealership. He was attending A.A. meeting and kept clean. The recent relapse was a bad luck. He got

Bull assisted yanking down his boxer briefs as the Doctor knelt behind the Sergeant and parted Bull’s fuckable ass.

" You may claim such, but your body is responding favorably. " Ixchel proclaims, removing his hand from her still pure womanhood and it's shameful display or need, infused due to his uninvited touch. " You'll have your first tryout tomorrow, you'll loose your virginity then ! " he announces, moving back towards his table where he procures a black, near metallic looking ring, a collar of sorts that seems devoid of any mechanism to open it up.

Sheriff Eldritch Meeks straightened his hat and emerged from the Chevy Bel Air. Its beacon singed into the back of his neck. Red. Eldritch watched thin sheets of dust sweep down the highway. Everything was fuzzy. He wiped rain from his eyes and took a deep breath. The knife twisted harder into his brainstem. Headaches. The pain was getting worse. Stabbing. Pinching. Wriggling. Eldritch needed a cup of coffee and a cigarette. He needed a fucking detox. But it would have to wait.

dirt, or really believe that the door is locked. You know you have done nothing

" 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