Edgar Tratt: A Short Story

“I am too.” Quickly she thought of a different topic,” I never learned your sister’s name.”

Ben walked over to the girl and touched her shoulder. “Hi, im Ben. What’s your name?” The girl turned around and looked Ben in the eyes.

It is a standard December day in 1960, in the lethargic Florida town of Fort Repose. On the stream street, Florence Wechek, the nearby Western Union broadcast administrator, stirs and watches the morning news as she makes her breakfast. Pressures between the Soviet Union and the United States are high—the Russians are propelling more Sputnik satellites, and there is an emergency in the Middle East—however as Florence leaves for work, she is more worried with her neighbor, Randy Bragg, who she suspects of keeping an eye on

An extreme turmoil had been taking place during the early 1940’s. The world was at war. Many young soldiers had grown anxious during this upheaval since

“Ok what’s your name, Hun?” Irene asks as she types the information on the computer.

“I had been there to buy a soda, and I had gone over to talk to another guy and missed the blast by about ten or fifteen seconds,” testified Terry Smith, a Wisconsin native, on a lukewarm spring afternoon in May. Smith maintained a relaxed attitude as he told a nail-biting story of his near-death experiences in Vietnam. This particular story began when Terry Smith bought a soda from a young Vietnamese girl. Seconds after he bought the soda, the girl blew herself up and killed five out of the six soldiers waiting in line. While serving, Smith learned through his many experiences how essential was to be aware of his surroundings and those he associated with while in Vietnam. He quickly realized the Vietnam War would be a constant struggle. Thus, he assimilated

In the novel, The Catcher in the Rye by J.D Salinger, phonies are one of the main things Holden Caulfield despises. The definition of the word phony is “A person who is not what he pretends to be”. There are many examples of phonies in the novel, however the biggest one being Holden. Holden is a phony. Holden, lies, is a hypocrite and changes his image constantly.

He wanted to go home and help but they all said “no!!” after a few months he moved to his restaurant. He lived in the restaurant basement, but he didn’t mind the mice or spiders.

It was Spring of 1992: Bill Ruther was sitting on an arm chair at a local coffee shop in New York City, he was waiting for his coffee and bagel that he had ordered. While he was waiting he decided to read a magazine and think of what his day might bring. Bill is a D-day veteran one of the survivors, he has tried to avoid and erase that brutal day from his memory.

After reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, I think that this book is a very well-written novel. I truly enjoyed the discussion of the family’s history regarding the house and the Sawtelle dogs. However, when comparing this novel to other books I had previously read, I feel that the novel left some questions at the end. Although I did like the story line and reading about the Sawtelles, I felt that the ending was upsetting. For instance, Trudy will never know Claude’s motive to kill Edgar and the fact he killed Gar. This bothered me. Another episode that I disliked occurred at the end of the novel. When all the dogs left the kennel; this bothers me as the reader. Since the dogs measured their lives by the presence of Edgar. Therefore, with

He picked a small home, with a nice fence, it was not a part of town that he would normally be found in, but well this wasn't the normal time. He opened the fence quietly as he slipped low moving into the backyard of the home. He knew going to the front door would draw far to much attention. He wondered into the yard looking at the lights, staying hidden from view

Near the bigginning of time, there existed an exquisite Greek island in the middle of the glorious Mediterranean Sea. Every day the sun would blaze down upon the idyllic place, making the calm waves shimmer and sparkle like precious diamonds.

As I was walking down the street, on my way to work, I was stopped by a young journalist, no older than 25 years old. He appeared to have been working for several days without rest. He had bags under his eyes, stains on his shirt that appeared to be at least two days old, and an unmistakable passion of someone who is trying to move up in the world. He asked me “what did you have to do to create a life for yourself here, and was it worth it?” He asked me one simple question, and that made me recall the past 5 years in an instant. It all started in 1917.

The garage was almost finished, but David still had to park on the side of the house. “I love those lamp posts,” he declared, helping Lia, holding Bartholomew’s carrier, out of the car. After setting the suitcases on the ground, he spotted Marcus in the window waving at them. Within a minute, he ran outside to greet them. The man with the boyish grin, lanky shape and shock of dark

Dominic locks his apartment and makes his way downstairs. He opens the door leading outside the apartment, and a cool but nice breeze blows against his face, making the leaves on the sidewalk fly in his direction. He walks towards the road to a café, where he would have a small breakfast every morning before opening his store. He enters the café and waits in line, admiring the way one of the workers does her job. Her name was Elizabeth. She would see Dominic almost every morning, asking for his usual order: black tea three sugars and two choc-chip cookies. He would give a little smile, and she would return an innocent and cute looking smile back. He hesitated to try to say his order, “O-One black tea…” “With three sugars and two choc-chip cookies”, she said finishing him. She turned and started to prepare his tea. She has long brown hair tied in a ponytail, black eyes, and a pretty rose-coloured face. For a while now, Elizabeth would put aside Dominic’s cookies, as she was sure as the sun shines, that he would be asking for them, and felt that it is wrong to sell them to a different customer.