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Creative Writing : A Short Story

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Writing anything down is almost always a risk because readers love to analyze. So I can write this for no other reason than to share the story and people will go on about what my true intent is. I suppose it would be best if I just flat out told you right here so that there was no confusion or gossip or whatever else. But here’s the thing: what I say doesn’t actually matter. Readers should make inferences, but where they go wrong is pointing to me. Because you know why they say “Don’t kill the messenger.” I am just a messenger here serving my civic duty. Analyze at your own risk. The youngest character in this story may be criticized by many as rude, but you must understand that prior to her sister’s home-coming, she spent her entire life attempting to live up to impossible-to-meet expectations set by her perfect older sister. Before you dismiss her, empathize with those years of suffering. Maybe I am biased, but that is not relevant to this discussion. Our story begins at approximately five thirty on a brisk November Thursday. The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon and darkness was creeping in. Sitting at the dinner table were Mrs. Triplett, Mr. Triplett, their son Wes, and youngest daughter Mae. Just as Mae prepared to share an enlightening story from her day, two headlights shone through the kitchen window and a vehicle approached the house. The car was accompanied by a driver, eighteen year old Mallory Triplett, home from college unexpectedly. The oldest of
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