Atwood's House: A Narrative Fiction

It twas the night before Christmas and all through the house a creature was banging on the door Yolanda the magical Christmas hippo of dreams.

I landed hard on the asphalt, I probably bruised my ass, as if I didn’t have enough from Yaqui beating me up. I stood up. Where was I? Was I still asleep? I pinched myself, no I was definitely awake. I looked around, I was in a parking lot. There was nobody around, wait! There were some people I ran over hoping that they knew where the heck I was. I stopped short these were boys about my age maybe a bit older and they looked like they were in a fight. The fight seemed unfair because it was four against two, I wanted to help, but I didn’t know what I could do. I watched as one of the older boys pushed one of the two not as well dressed boy’s head into a fountain. He was drowning him! His buddies were laughing. “Ponyboy!” The other boy who I

Authors often apply literary devices in literature to convey special messages to the readers. Margaret Atwood portrays the use of literary devices in her poem, “Bored,” when she uses anecdote and metaphor. In the poem, Atwood effectively demonstrates how the use of literary devices creates a greater insight into the lack of power women have in a male-dominated society.

I reached in my pocket for my pen so I could sketch some flowers. I pulled out a few dollars bills, and I remembered my mother gave me money so I could buy some milk for her. I turned around and went to the grocery. I went into the milk section, grabbed a jug, and headed to the checkout. The man in front of me in the line was staring at me. He looked at me like I was a vicious beast. I began to feel uncomfortable. The teenage brothers behind me were rough housing and when one threw a punch, they knocked me with their elbow. I couldn’t keep my balance. I went diving towards the ground, and I hit the man in the back with my nose. He fell to the ground, holding both his arms like he broke them. I got up and tried to help him up. He was backing up in fear saying, “Monster, you monster.” Everyone began to stare and back away from me, even the brothers. It was completely silent. I could hear my breathing. I heard one of the employees whisper to someone, “Call 911.” Then I bolted out the front door. I ran as fast as my little feet could go. In the corner of my eye I could see people behind me. They were catching up to me. At this point, I knew I couldn’t run any longer. I started to stumble and then, I felt a hand hook my shell. I went flying back. After that, the moment was surreal. I knew my mom was going to kill me, if the police don’t first. I don’t even remember much of it

Death is a terrifying prospect for most people, imagine being face to face with it. In Edgar Allan Poe’s “Masque of the Red Death”, the revelers were in this very situation. Prince Prospero’s country is devastated by the Red Death. A plaque that resulted in a painful, gruesome, death. Prince Prospero being the selfish, uncaring man he is, locked himself and a thousand of his lighthearted friends in his abbey to hide from the Red Death. After 6 months of seclusion Prince Prospero throws a masquerade to celebrate that they were still free of the Red Death. It was at this masquerade a gruesome mummer appeared shortly before Prince Prospero and all the revelers to died of the Read Death. In this story, Poe personifies death through the mummer who comes like a thief through the night stealing the lives of Prince Prospero and his court.

I am glad to hear you are looking at Oxford Houses. I know they are all over San Antonio as well as other cities. I looked at their openings today and there are many. There was even one in our old neighborhood Braun Station. They are a great program. You should keep looking into them. There are many options open for your future. You just have to learn to use the tools to get there. Something you said in your letter said a lot more than you had intended. You said for you to go to Oxford House you needed us to get you out of jail. You said if you had to do a year in jail then you were going to go back to a life on the streets. That sounds like you are trying to hold me an emotional hostage. Damian if what you want is my

In many states across the United States, laws have been passed regarding carrying guns on campus. In states where they do allow students to conceal a firearm they must meet certain criteria. For example only students over the age of 21 are able to legally carry a firearm on campus with a handgun license. As mentioned in the beginning many any states have passed this law, but across the United States there are still a lot of states who debate on whether they should allow their own students to conceal a firearm on campus. Back in the 1900’s many students had access to rifles because it was part of a sport. Across the United States hunting was a hobby for many college students. The idea of student’s being allowed to carry firearms on campus often carries different emotions for people across the United States but it’s important to understand the different arguments related to the topic because we are part of the problem. Citizens take the time to preach what is wrong with this country but in reality what are you really doing in regards to keeping our citizens safe, is anyone safe in this country, are our own college students safe when stepping foot on campus?

9:34 A.M. I knew it was time I go find my killer. That breakfast earlier at the garage didn’t fill me. I barely ate any of it actually. The walk to Gad’s Hill isn’t long from Port Roosevelt either, but I was tired. I didn’t sleep all night. All I could think about was my beloved wife. She was so romantic. She was the only reason I ever stayed in that garage. We even planned on moving too, but God took her away from me. It must have been for a reason. God damnit! I will find you, you son of a bitch! I noticed people in there cars looking at me strangely as they passed. They have no business looking at me. I kept an eye though for that yellow car. I stopped and stared at a couple of people with yellow cars, but they looked at me as if I was crazy. Why won’t they just leave me alone? I saw a group of boys who were playing with rocks stop and look at me, as if I looked or was acting crazy. Don’t look at me! Look somewhere else. Stupid kids. When I got to Gad’s Hill, I stopped at a store and bought a sandwich and a cup of coffee that filled me up. I left the sandwich at the table I sat down at, and walked

You are driving back to your home in a cream colored Rolls Royce after a hard day at work. You can’t wait to go home, to see your beautiful wife and your lovable kids. As you cruise down the road, your headlights illuminate the pitch black dark of the night. You pass enormous skyscrapers that reach for the sky then, you have to stop at a red stoplight that glows in a bright lava red color. As you wait for the light to turn green, a tall man in a black trench coat and with black sunglasses that blends in with the night, smashes the driver’s side window of your car. The unknown stranger reaches his hand in and unlocks the door from the inside. As soon as you undo your seat belt to try to make run for it, the stranger opens the door and drags you out onto the

As the light turned green, I sat for a moment, not moving, and asked myself what I was going to do. Then I accelerated slowly, waiting for the car on my left to pass as I changed over to the left lane. I made four left turns at four consecutive stoplights until I approached the library again. Pulling into the library's parking lot, I turned off my lights, radio, and heat. As I opened the car door, the cold air stung me like a quick slap to my face. Slowly and uncertainly, I walked toward Mike.

Ellie and I lay in our beds, neither one of us knew what to say. In the other room, our host parents were arguing. We didn’t know what about, but we knew it was serious. Then we heard a “THWACK” followed by silence. Ellie and I sat up in our beds and looked at each other, I could tell she was as scared as I was. “Was that? Did he just?” she asked me. Then the arguing started back up again. We calmed back down until we heard it again. “THWACK” We knew then, the noise we heard, was him beating her. We got up, our hearts racing; neither of us knew what to do. We got our nerves together to go get help. When we opened the door to our room we saw the children sitting on the couch crying out for their mother. I could see the fear in their face and I knew something needed to change.

In African literature, authors portray many problems through the use of symbolism and allegory that are sentimental because of the possibility of persecution for speaking about the corruption within the African government. Similarly, in Canadian literature authors use these literary element to portray the struggles in their society. However, Canadian authors use these literary devices with a different perspective in mind; they have more freedom to speak about the society in their writing, unlike African authors. In the mid-1900s, one of the best-known Canadian authors, Margaret Atwood, wrote three poems using these literary aspects about her political ideas and views of the society. She utilized these literary devices in

I could feel the cold brisk air brushing up against my skin as I ventured through the darkness in this vacant parking lot on a dreary Sunday night in November. I could see a car in the distance and began to approach it. The car appeared to be an old rusted out vehicle with extremely tinted windows that were dark like death. As I looked inside the vehicle I noticed that the car was as clean as a crystal. Not a speck of dust could be found on the interior and the floor mats were completely spotless. It was as if the vehicle had never been driven before. I then put my hand on the door and proceeded to step inside of the vehicle. As I did so I felt a sensation through my whole body that made me tingle. It was an unwelcoming sensation as if I was entering a whole new world. As I sat down there's was a smell, a sheer clean smell similar to that of a fresh load of laundry. Goosebumps came about all over my body as adrenaline rushed through my veins. I put my hands on the steering wheel and my mind took me into another dimension. Taking a glance in the rearview mirror I could see a mysterious person approaching the vehicle. As I examined the person I came to the conclusion that this must be the owner of the vehicle. I noticed they were dressed in all black and carrying what seemed to be a grocery bag of some sort. In panic, I got out of the car and looked at what appeared to be a male figure. The man was very masculine and tall. His mere presence was enough to strike fear into

“The more you know about the past, the better prepared you are for the future.”(Roosevelt). Memories are a phenomenon that brings both good and bad thoughts of the past back into one’s reality. This comes to show that an individual is a product of her past but is not a prisoner of it, due to it being her history and not her present. Margaret Atwood speaks in her poem, “Morning in the Burned House”, as a child who is reliving her past, although, that is perceived to her as her reality and she becomes a prisoner of that memory. This poem illustrates the message that the past is not one’s reality in that moment; it is history that tends to repeat itself in one’s mind. In this poem, Atwood expresses her thought and message through the specific imagery she uses of the five senses and the fire. Atwood uses the five senses imagery as a way to make one feel as if she is beside the child, reliving that memory with her. She uses the fire imagery as a way to set the tone for the poem, that perhaps something bigger and more life changing happened to the child. As well, Atwood uses the theme of illusion versus reality as a way to portray what is the child’s truth and what is a memory.

For most of my life, a typical Sunday morning for me consisted of me almost sleeping through all of my alarms, scurrying back and forth from my bedroom to the bathroom in an effort to try and make myself look presentable, and finally running out the garage door into whatever vehicle my impatiently waiting family members were sitting in. The crazy whirlwind of a morning routine I just described was my typical getting ready for Sunday Catholic Mass routine. I would just like to point out that participating or mimicking this type of morning routine is not taught or mandatory by Catholics.