Conroe Regional: A Narrative Analysis

Suddenly, Franco’s nasal cavities were filled with a whiff of decaying flesh. This didn’t distract Franco. Franco only noticed his composition of a masterpiece, not the decomposition. However, he realized that it was this stench that invited prying cats, the neighbours, to notify the police of an out of the ordinary occurrence in apartment 25B.

Outline the geographical processes relevant to the management of the Cronulla, Wanda and Kurnell area.

I had never smelled a corpse before today, but now it fills the air like poison, as cruel to the mind as it is to the nose. It’s pungent, rotten, and sickly sweet, the smile on an assassin’s face before he kills your soul. I don’t want to open my eyes to see the source, but it must be nearby, as I feel his cold skin, roughened by the last few months that probably made him grateful of his death, against my own. My eyelids are heavy, begging me not to lift them, not to move at all, to lie there until God takes pity on me too, and lets me go.

“Holy shit!” says one of the LT’s assistants as he notices from a distance two of the medics carrying a body out on a stretcher. “What in God’s name is that stench?!!!” He’s looking in the direction of the large single-story building just off to his right.

A psammosere is a serial community; an ecological succession that began life on newly exposed coastal sand. Most common psammoseres are sand dune systems.

I looked around the cramped waiting room and took a deep breath. I took another one as I tried to sink further into the uncomfortable black plastic chairs that everybody who waited for him sat in.There were a lot of things about this room that made me want to bolt out of the door- the sound the secretary’s long claws made as she typed on her computer, the smell that could only be described as a cross between sterile hospital and forest, Everyone else that was sitting inside of that office pulling at their collars and making noises to draw attention away from themselves, and the big gold letters on the wall that spelled out Dr. Luke Jones M.D..

My name was called eighth and my hands trembled as I walked into the cramped room. The floor and walls were covered in light blue tile and there was a slight scent of filth and dirt, but it was concealed by the overwhelming smell of bleach. Standing in front of me was an average looking petite woman with greying brown hair in a lab coat and two hairy, burly men in light blue doctor’s scrubs, they all looked menacing, which did not help with my concerns and in that moment I knew my fears were justified.

The grey, concrete walls made goose-bumps appear on her arms. Because they were cold, not frightening she kept reminding herself. She had nothing to worry about. Walking slowly through security; metal detectors, search dogs, frisk searches, the whole lot. Walking out she had gained a feeling of somewhat relief. Finally, she had made it to the main quad. What would instil fear in anyone else excited her; she had arrived at her new job as a nurse, at Acacia Men’s Prison.

Folds and unfolds the edge of the blanket as the unfolding of what there is to come. But not in that moment, in which the sound is raucous, intermittent, albeit it only incites, rehearses the awakening. Besides desires what mobilizes us is the smell of coffee, pasture, manure, Nellore cattle, corn porridge, pamonha, and to cut Ourinhos as if it was a burden. Traffic jam, exhaust pipe, red light, sudden stop, leather upholstery, São Paulo, driver, as if it was today. The hallucinating aroma of a moldy London (fish and chips), impersonal and acrylic in the office, rubberized and anodized on the subway. It will explode. Just as one can divert secrets, one can compartmentalize sensations of sweat, repugnant heat, cooked beasts, prepared as in a soup, the filthy and hideous streets of Liberia, malaria and death in the air. As hot and drenched as it must look clean, thus the sanitary water from Amapá pervades the nostrils, lots of loose bitches, what a level! How necessary it is to soften the fear, the wet, but harmless, rocks and snow of Canada. When the food produces gas, it is better to go into a drugstore and consume Chinese

Around her was the rotted wood and black soil that she soon realized were the walls of Perry’s hole. Heather tasted copper and knew it was her own blood. Strangely, she didn’t feel any pain. In fact, Heather noticed that her body was buzzing with numbness. She didn’t even feel the lightness of her newly shaved head. She tried moving but could not and understood that she must have been given some sort of paralytic. Panic swelled up inside of her as she felt the cold steel of the operating table she had seen so often before underneath her. Heather moved her eyes to the right and saw the brown cardboard of the boxes. Heather looked to the left-- and

The turn from the 19th to the 20th century was a time of change. Railroads and carriages were still the method of transportation as Ford’s first Model T doesn’t roll off the line until 1908, but telephones, electric lights, and milk coolers had made their way into the city. In the 1900 Parson’s city directory there are 3 different skirt makers, but only one saloon. Five different places selling bicycles but only one wine & liquor store. They city of Cortland was policed by four patrolmen and the chief of police, today the city police department has 40 officers. The city was made up of 6 wards, today there are 8. In 1853 when the village of Cortland was chartered there was a population of 1,500, by 1900 the village had grown to home to almost 10,000 people, and was officially incorporated as a city.

As dawn began to break across the beautiful sky, I heard the powerful iron doors of the main building being closed and locked. Dawn to me is the most beautiful part of the day. Colors streaming across the sky make me forget about the horrors of the world. Under me I heard some sort of loud bombs or grenades being thrown into the lowest hall and exploding there; they seemed to make only smoke, but they may have been incendiaries. Later, the ground floor began to burn a scorching heat. Perhaps benzene or petrol had been poured around. Sadly I was still lying among the bodies of others. The bodies smelled awfully and were terribly wounded. Since they were wounded I got streaks of blood on my face and body.

American authors use regional details to make the events and themes of a narrative come to life. Regionalism is a style of writing that authors have been using for a long time to help their stories light up and interact with readers.

On Wednesday morning, several tenants in Tank’s building were gathering outside his door. They hadn 't seen him for a few days birthing a feeling of dread. Emanating from under his door is a faint, sickeningly sweet smell. They thought he had gone away and didn’t dispose of the garbage before he left.

A broken disgusting place. But I had to do one thing. I read the graffiti. I read all the ones about me from being fat, ugly and worst of all annoying. Out of all those words, annoying hurt the most. I hated that word with a fiery passion. I had been called that from the beginning of boarding school. It hurt because it made me feel like my presence wasn't wanted. I always wanted to be the person you smile around, but to them, I had always been the annoying girl in class. I took out a gigantic black Sharpie and crossed out all the terrible things.Then In huge letters, I wrote goodbye, I forgive you all love Ugonna. That became the highlight of that day. I walked back to the hostel as the rocks were crunching under my feet. I inhaled the gross familiar scent of the garbage and bleach. I grabbed my suitcase and said my final goodbye to the Catherine hostel. We were a hostel of poise finesse and decorum, but I never portrayed any of those things. Neither did the hostel. The hostel had fungi growing in the bathrooms, Girls always making noise, someone always had annoying drama and if Hell fell on Earth it would land on the Catherine