Creative Story : A Short Story

It all began with a simple phone call one night after dinner. “John,” my father hollered up the stairs, “It’s for you. It’s Jackie, and she sounds distressed.” As I came down the stairs to pick up the phone, I was not happy. I was tired and had looked forward to a nice quiet evening at home, not another stupid adventure with Jackie.

During the New Kingdom of Egypt (from 1552 through 1069 B.C.), there came a sweeping change in the religious structure of the ancient Egyptian civilization. "The Hymn to the Aten" was created by Amenhotep IV, who ruled from 1369 to 1353 B.C., and began a move toward a monotheist culture instead of the polytheist religion which Egypt had experienced for the many hundreds of years prior to the introduction of this new idea. There was much that was different from the old views in "The Hymn to the Aten", and it offered a new outlook on the Egyptian ways of life by providing a complete break with the traditions which Egypt held to with great respect. Yet at the same time, there were

They returned to their car and drove off. Another set of headlights appeared in the North. The car slowed down and Uncle Joe came running towards the wrecked vehicle. Hope and I tried to open our doors, but the smashed doors could not open. Haley and Grace got out of the vehicle on the left side and Hope and I struggled to crawl from the right side to get out due to the mess within the vehicle created throughout the crash. Joe hugged us, showing his happiness regarding our survival. We stomped through the deep snow in the direction of his small white car, leaving the dented blue Ford expedition and most of our belongings behind. Joe and Grace discussed the accident: what activities to participate in about the damaged vehicle, whether or not to take Hope to the hospital, and when to notify family members and others important

A man who was dressed like my dad did for work, came up to the window and asked us if we were okay.’’ Yes, we are okay. “ my dad said. My mom looked back at me and Jacob then she looked in the floor between us. Mom cried when she seen her big beautiful glass angel in the floor. After that they were pulling my brother out of the car then me I was scared. I don't remember the doctor checking me out but I was fine just shocked. I assumed that the lady that hit us was okay, I think I seen her put into the ambulance truck.

Born May 26, 1951, Sally Ride had a dream like many Americans. Dr. Ride received a bachelor’s degree in English and Physics, she persevered with her schooling and received her doctorate. In 1978, after receiving her Ph.d, Dr. Ride applied to the National Aeronautics and Space Administration’s astronaut program. She beat out over 1,000 other applicants for the courageous position. With patience and rigorous training, Dr. Ride finally got the chance to achieve her dream. STS-7 mission, June 18, 1983; Sally Ride was the first American woman to orbit in space. She was a mission specialist, using a robotic arm she sent out satellites into space. A year later Dr. Ride served another trip as a mission specialist. Years after working for NASA, Sally

Coming off the bus from my first full week of middle school, I vividly remember the abnormal absence of cars in the driveway. Using the spare key under the “welcome” mat, I opened the door only to find an empty house with the lights still on, TV running, and cold leftovers. As an eleven year-old coming home to an unusually vacant house, panic flooded my body. Immediately, I sprinted to the home phone and frantically dialed my mother. The dissonance rings that followed as I hit the call button seemed to last a lifetime; my breath drew still as those consistent buzzes stopped and my mother's comforting voice answered “hello”. The pounding in my chest ceased, yet worry still overpowered my conscience. She explained that she and my father had to abruptly leave to

I saw the tears creep from Mom's face, as she continued to argue with the police outside of this empty, and scary room. Her muffled cries and screams could barely be heard from the two windows that canceled any noises outside. The chair underneath me was uncomfortable, and the table in front of me was cold. I've done something bad, I thought to myself. The door in front of me slowly crept open and a fairly large man with a golden badge stepped in to the room bringing a metal foldable chair with him. He opened the chair and sat directly across from me.

I hopped along the cracked path towards the house. When reaching the front lawn my feet struggled to wade through a jungle of plants. But soon enough they were free and the front door greeted me with peeling paint fingers, I twisted the handle but it wouldn’t budge. My knuckles pounded on the door “Gus!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. Tapping my foot while waiting for a response. Then heavy footsteps approached the door and the handle twisted, opening the door to reveal my dad towering above me. His eyes were distant and his face was pale and drooping. He wore the same tattered black shirt he always wore. “Hello Lars” he said in a deep raspy voice. “Hi dad” my voice squeaked in comparison. I quickly scurried past him towards the kitchen

Propaganda, can be defined as the capacity of a person to produce and disseminate “attractive” and reproducible messages that once seeded they will greatly influence human cultures.

Selison opens his eyes and sees a vast expanse of trees surrounding him. They reach beyond his sight and despite no trace of sunlight, the forest is exceptionally well lit. It is silent, though. There are no calls or screeches from any animals. The trees don’t sway and no insects crawl on the dirt beneath his feet. All around him is a silent, endless forest. With a deep breath, Selison reaches back for Deomacht. He gasps softly when it isn’t on his back.

Trappe woke with a start before sunrise, focusing his eyes on the shapes of the distant hills as they emerged from the darkness. He felt a chill from the open rear window of the station wagon and turned to Curtis, still asleep beside him. “Curtis, wake up,” he whispered, followed by a “shushing” sound as he put his index finger to his lips. Curtis’ eyes fluttered open.

Jake was at his house staying up late for the new year special`. He heard someone knock at the door so he gets up and thinks, “who can it be at this hour?” When he opens up the door no one is there so he goes back inside. Then after a few minutes it happens again *knock* *knock*

“You’d never believe me if I told you that I cared, but it's true and I can prove it.” Johnny promised. He looked down at the sad face of his younger brother, Oliver. He had tears running down his rosy cheeks and sniffed. He didn’t reply back.

“ Hey Dad”, Karsyn yelled from her room that was two up from her dad. Her dad rushed to her room thinking something was wrong, because well karsyn never used the right tone. “What’s wrong”, her dad said, still being half asleep. “ Nothing, I know it’s late, but...um… can we talk?” said karsyn after assuring her dad that she was really fine and trying not to awake maddi and aliyah laying in the other bed. “Um, yes dear, but let’s go to my room so we don’t disturb your sisters, we all know that they need their sleep”, her dad whispered trying not to

Mrs. Johnson had a full heart as she made her way down the streets of New York. She took the time to capture the beauty that hid within the streets with her camera. As she was making her was down one unusually empty street she noticed a boy, about the age of 12, sitting alone outside a store front. The boy was wearing a sad expression on his face and Mrs. Johnson knew what to do. She went up to the boy and gave him 6 of the brightest, happiest pictures that she had taken that day as well as 6 suckers. The boys smile grew wider and wider as the gifts were presented and exclaimed “Why thank you ma’am. I can’t wait to eat these suckers!” With that the young boy quickly ate two of the suckers. “Don’t you want to save those for another time?’ asked Mrs. Johnson. “Oh ma’am, I am very sorry but these are the first thing I have eaten in a long time so I just couldn’t help myself.” exclaimed the boy. Mrs. Johnson was heartbroken at this news and knew that she would have to provide this boy with much more than a few photographs and suckers. “Excuse me ma’am, but where did you buy these photographs?” asked the boy. “I took them myself silly, and please, call me Mrs. Johnson. When I am called ma’am I feel much older than I am.” stated Mrs. Johnson. “Really?” cried the boy. “I love photography, my ma and pa could never afford a camera so I spend my afternoons outside this shop looking at all of the amazing photos taken by photographers.” Mrs. Johnson brought her gaze up from the smiling