Essay On The Story Of A Story

Andrea sat in the break room, waiting for her shift to start at 8:30, her long, crisp black hair covered the back of the seat. Andrea had her face deep into paperwork but, then noticed Mary walked into the room and looked up, took off her glasses and wiped her forehead. Andrea’s porcelain skin, looked like it has barely seen any sunlight, or even touched. Mary and Andrea had most of the day piled up in paperwork, except for their breaks. At lunchtime, Mary added to her stories of sleepwalking into the forest, including the one early in the morning.

I walked to the room at the end of the hall that led to the attic. I slowly placed my foot on the first step, calling out for Nancy. When I finally reached the top, I saw a long haired woman standing by the window with her backed turned to me. "Chelsea? What the hell are you doing here?" She was holding an axe in her hand and I started backing up, with no intention on going any further. She turned around and to my surprise, it was not Chelsea at all, but Nancy. She had blood rolling down her forehead, from the scalp that was ripped from Chelsea's head. "Oh, Dear," she said. "You gave me quite a fright." She started walked toward me. "What do you think?" She asked, running her fingers through the

My ideas and thoughts about Africa had been changed after I listened to Adichie’s speech. The way she described the danger of a single story was very inspiring to me, and I could relate many of the experiences I had to her story. I was born in Pakistan and moved to the U.S. in 2007. When I came to the U.S. I lived in Virginia and went to Freedom Hill Elementary School. On the first day of school I sat next to an Indian kid named Sai and he didn’t want to sit next to me he told the teacher that are countries didn’t like each other so he wanted to sit somewhere else, but are teacher said she didn’t want to hear any of it. So during the year we had to work on many things as partners, and we got along great we had many things in common and at the end of the year we became pretty good friends. At the beginning he probably heard some things about my country and he just assumed that I was the person he heard from those stories, and after meeting me he had a different understanding of it. Soon after the year ended my dad found a better job in California so we moved here. I lived in Alameda and went to wood middle. The school I went to was very diverse and this time I wasn’t the only Muslim

A scream bubbled up inside her as strong hand grasped her mouth, muffling any chance for help. His hot breath tickled her cheek as they disappeared into the woods just outside of town. Her eyes scanned in every direction, trying to find an escape, but his large body was all around her, enveloping her like the fog that was rolling in in an ungodly manner. It blanketed the forest like a mother tucking her children in at night. The little life that Evangeline lived flashed before her eyes, most of it spent with Lila. Without much hope of survival left, she thought of the only thing she could do. A swift kick to the shin sent him hobbling in the opposite direction after dropping Evangeline to the ground. She sat in a heap covered in mud and wet leaves, staring up at her attacker who was hopping on one leg favoring his injured

The door shut behind him and Georgaina walked down the steep, grassy hill. She was near the bottom when a pain, familiar to her, ripped through her abdomen like a dull, serrated knife. She collapsed, gasping for breath and clutching her stomach. Slowly, after what felt to her like hours, the pain went from a sharp knife to a dull ache. Tears had filled her eyes and she blinked them back as she stood cautiously, not trusting her own legs. She took a deep breath, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, determined to get to the forest that lay around the hill. Her head pounded, but she figured she would worry about it

A painful groan sounded from somewhere unseen in the starlight, and I cautiously approached the trees to my left. I then remembered there had been a sharp crack, like a branch breaking in a spring storm. Emma was lying on the ground on top of what used to be a low wooden fence, the blackened soles of her feet facing me. The first thing that came to mind in that moment was that she had the dirtiest feet I had ever seen, and for some reason this bothered me more than the fact that she had broken what was probably national property. She grasped my sweaty palms in hers and heaved herself up, remarkable unscathed from her tumble. I suppose she was hurting a lot more than she could currently process. The pieces of fence, slick with humidity, lay splintered at our feet. Paler wood that had been freshly exposed with the break, stared at us accusingly. Without a word we continued onto the path that cut through to her

Allie woke up and came to consciousness, elated to realize it was simply a nightmare. Her room was pitch black as she gazed around the walls of her room. Rain pounded against her window and thunder was booming off in the distance. A sharp crack of lighting lit her room. With the flash of light, Allie saw her mother covered in blood laid back in a chair across the room. She leaped out of bed to find help, only to see her blood stained father’s grinning face blocking the

When she awoke the skies were gray and gloomy, the air suddenly was cold and felt as though it could cut like a knife. Something felt out of place, but Lori could not put her finger on it. Her feet hit the floor, and began looking around only to see that she is all alone.The place that once was warm and welcoming now is all but that. The frail girl screams loudly, when there is no reply, she knew something must be terribly wrong.

She decided to look down for the rest of the walk after getting glared at by a passerby. As she was watching her feet and skipping over the cracks in the pavement, something had yanked the back of her jacket. Whipping around, Becca saw a shambled family. They were tan and soaking wet; their cardboard home shaped the background of the frightening portrait Becca was faced with. A wave of angry words, desperate words confronted her, echoing without meaning her mind. The mother of the two children fell to her knees weeping, pleading for something Becca would never exactly know. The daughter, the girl Becca realized pulled her jacket, stared at her. Dark chocolate colored eyes were melting with the heat of her pain and her brittle lips smoked with the speed of her pleading words. Becca was being pulled away unknowingly when she heard a familiar rumble coming from the pit of the girl’s stomach. And just as soon as the encounter had happened, it was over. Concern replaced the sound of desperation and she let her family know she was fine. She went back to looking at her feet. In a couple of minutes, Becca’s family arrived at the

Pain in Mia’s leg returned slowly as she hiked through the mountains for several hours. She reached a stopping point and stumbled to the ground praying to god she would be able to get up again. Eerie and haunting noises from the forest kept Mia awake for a while as she drifter father and father into a light

The high point in my grandmother’s life besides her kids being born, was finding her faith and Jesus. Around the age of 50, her neighbor in the Bronx had been insisting her to visit her local church. While she had gone to church when she was younger, it was not a priority. When Fela said yes, she described it was the best decision of her life and she has not looked back. To her, the Lord has brought her peace and allowed her to meet people which she considers part of her family. With the help of her new-found brothers and sisters in Christ, she learned to read and write at a basic level. While my grandmother cannot write a book, she can handle the basic task like sending her kids birthday cards.

Many people tell stories to inform others about themselves. Throughout my life people in my family have told me many stories, and behind each story there is a purpose. The stories I was told growing up were about experiences that people in my family have had or things that I have done. These stories mean a lot to me because through these stories different family members reveal many things about themselves. They want me to understand their ideas, beliefs, or feelings about a certain subject. They want people to praise or admire what they have done or accomplished. Funny stories are told to humor or embarrass someone, usually me. Other stories express that we are not alone in the world, and there are other people,

Without another word, the Smiling Knight jerked Merrett to his feet and tugged the squire behind him causing the Frey to lose his boot. As the shoe fell to the ground, Alayna saw the hilt of the aforementioned knife peek out of the shift. Acting as swiftly as possible in her bound state, Alayna scooted over to retrieve the weapon amidst the commotion around her. She tucked the knife between her hands and began to saw at the ropes that tied her wrists together. When she felt her bindings go lack, she sighed in relief but kept her hands behind her to feign captivity. She would have to time her next actions just right in order to escape unharmed.

They walked into the church and set up their amps and microphones. Then soon enough more youth people walked into the room. There were about 50 teenagers in the room When it was time to start. Nikki couldn't see Toby in the room, but it was time for her performance to start so she took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage!

After have a small meal with Jerry and Ginger, we were on the road again. I received directions to the tower from Jerry who had travelled past the tower various times. Just find the River of Arcsec and you find the lost tower.