Examples Of Realistic Fiction

Feeling exhausted, I focus on my breathing. I breath in through my nose and then out through my mouth, breath in and out. Repeat. After passing the mile mark, my coach is shrieking for me to relax, because I am on my way to qualify for cross country states. The top twenty girls qualify, and I have been dreaming of this day since freshman year. All I have to do is hold my position, and then I am golden. Suddenly, my legs begin to feel like jello. My running partner slowly fades ahead of me, and I cannot keep up. It feels like I am running backwards as the rest of my teammates pass me one by one. Fighting fatigue, I tell myself I am finishing this race, whether or not I have to crawl like a turtle to do so. I am crossing that finish line.

Bradbury makes it clear that most citizens are blind to reality. This is shown through Mildred's obsession with TV,Montag's lust to burn books, and Beatty’s fixation with fire. Being blind to reality could be one of the most dangerous things mentioned in the novel Fahrenheit 451. Blind following of a person or idea without question can lead to losing all free will, this is demonstrated in the novel with how Mildred blindly follows everything she is told through the seashells. Mildred’s blind following, however, is countered by Clarice’s constant questioning of authority and why things are and constant self awareness.

2 yards was the distance from the tree and I. The foreign feeling of confidence was pumping through my veins. Like the lemonades they consistently offer us when it’s too warm outside. To my left, with a slightly slower pace, was Gene. The look of unfeigned adoration in his eyes beamed down at the. Slowly encouraging me that everything would be ok. Which is the information I already knew from the beginning. With a pace to match a ferocious beast, Finny was to my right, running with a slight passion of endurance in his stride. He was eager to get this over with. The sooner we do, the quicker we can walk moxie to lunch. With the thought of food racing through my phlegmatic heart, my stomach let out a subtle growl. Gene let out a chuckle and

I ran back up the hill to our camp, trying to move quickly without wasting too much energy, took my inhaler, and rushed back down the hill. Soon, it was time for the race to start. The officials gave an overview of information about the race and how it would start. The official behind us blew a long whistle. We stood, motionless, just waiting for that starting gunshot. Pow! The race was off. I sprinted out of the pack. I tried to find a good pace and settle in. We ran up a few hills, and then we made it to the first entrance to the creek. Unintelligently, I didn’t slow down very much going into the creek. Because I didn’t slow down, I splashed into the creek with a belly flop, almost submerging my whole body underwater. I got up quickly, then began to climb up the mud wall. I clawed at that wall like it was my enemy. I avoided the rope, even though it actually wasn’t that busy at the moment. I was too focused to switch strategies. We continued to run on, passing many fans, their cheers a chaotic blur. We passed through the second part of the creek, which was not nearly as deep. It was only about mid-shin to knee level, so I made my way through just fine. We ran all over the vineyard. I wasn’t feeling too awful. I was just caught up in the thrill of the race! We made it to the cornfields, and there were lots of small hills. I ran through them staring at the ground, and I kept seeing the same pair of shoes. For some strange reason, I kept staring at those shoes. People do crazy things when they run, you could say! Anyways, I passed the person wearing those shoes. We ran away from the corn fields and under a bridge. I was coming closer and closer to the finish. I was struggling to continue, but I would not quit! I pushed through the pain, but by the end of the race, I was just done. I saw the final hill in front of me. It was one of the biggest hills on the course, if not the biggest, and it was definitely the most difficult after

The conference meet was upon us. I was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The tension between the runners soared as we lined up at the starting line. I took a few deep breaths, anticipating the gun. I had a nerve racking deep inside. Bang! The gun went off and I took off stumbling over people, shoving, fighting for space. I was breathing hard already, pushing up the first hill. There was a straight away after the hill. I was afraid to get passed, so I kept my pace with the first pack. Michael, who had tripped over the back of my shoe before the first hill, had caught back up. As the first mile came around, I heard determined coaches exclaiming our mile splits.

Over and over, I repeated her phrase in my mind. Knowing, I had to get in the top fifteen instead of the top ten places calmed my nerves. I knew this was my last chance to earn a spot at state. Unsure from running poorly at the conference meet last week, I felt worried. I remembered I worked too hard this season to not earn a spot at state. Only an hour later, I laced up my spikes and stepped into the chute.

“Hey! We’re running now. Start moving.” I opened my weary eyes. In front of me was the dark face of the same woman who I talked to at dusk. Heeding her words, I rose and started moving to the exit of the barn, quietly evading the slumbering guard outside. I realized that she stayed behind for me and the rest were gone already. After we went over the fence, we started to run as fast as a tiger until we were out of breath and our limbs were sore. The weather was clear as day and the sun was right above me. Then, I heard the familiar sound of

It was a perfect night for a run. Around 70 degrees with a slight breeze. I wait in my Dark Blue Mini Cooper as my watch gets my location. Feet trembling with adrenaline, much like an addict, I’m itching for a run. With a loud “BEEP,” I know the smartwatch is ready and I’m off. As time progresses, I start running faster, faster, and faster. The whispering wind would flow through my hair as I make my way down the trail. Bliss. I notice my surroundings, trees, deer, and the bright light of my headlamp. Chills go up my spine every so often. All I hear is the pitter pattering of my red running shoes and the occasional rustle of bushes. After what feels like the shortest moment ever, my half-hour run is over and I sigh with relief.

My heart began to race faster than a cheetah, my legs were numb, and I couldn’t tell whether or not I was actually running. The feeling of the crisp and hot summer air quickly entering my lungs felt rough, while the air was escaping even faster. As I struggle to look behind to see if he was close enough to get me I tried to exclaim while trying to grasp some air for my lungs, “Xouse, he’s gaining, on us, come on!”. As the hot asphalt burnt the bottom of my shoes off, I continued running into the alley of two apartment complexes as my cousin followed. I looked at Xouse, I saw the agony on his face, my vision went blurry, next thing I knew I was standing in front of a wall, with nowhere to go. I looked back to see if we were finally safe, and then I knew, I should have never left the by myself.

“6:28,” the clock read as I was pulling into the parking lot, “6:29”. I exited the truck, grabbing my track bag as fast as possible. My phone fell out of my pocket. I paid no attention out of haste. I bent down with my track bag in my hand. I felt the glass lightly cutting my hand as I picked up my phone. I felt like Usain Bolt as I sped walk to the bus at what felt like at least thirty miles per hour. Sweaty and Tired I entered the bus. Why must we wake up so early? The meet starts at 9:00 and it’s only an hour drive away. Regardless, I strolled onto the buss. Horrified, I received the soul-penetrating stares of every single member of the Trojan Track team, athlete and student alike. Earlier that morning, having assumed that at least a few

Before I knew it the Starter pointed his gun high and fired. Across the starting line from both sides I felt runners storming off, as did I. I wanted to take a smart approach as I planned I would. The first mile quickly came up and I was advancing my place further to put myself into a positive position to finish. A mile and a half into the race overall I felt relaxed  and was still moving up passing runners. Next the second mile came up and I was starting to struggle as were some runners close by. Additionally hills were to come in the next mile and a half and I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I knew If I stopped then slowed down, I wouldn’t satisfy myself. Eventually I made it through the hills along with other struggling runners. The last part of the race came and as soon as I made it to where I had about 400m left, overall I gave it all I had in the moment so that I finished in excellent standing with myself. As I gave it all I could I passed a few runners in the process and as a few passed by as well. Finally, after several minutes of trying to catch my breath I finally

I stood at the top of the hill. It was Regional day. My team and I trained all year for that day. The sun was shining and the snow was crisp—just like the air. The wind was silent and allowed the clamor of the festivities to hang in the air undisturbed. I could hear everything. The chanting of names and times from the loudspeaker. The racers’ skis slicing into the snow. My favorite rhythmic clapping of shins on gates. Then, to my surprise, “Tylor Kistler, bib 156?” a pause, “racer may go when ready”. Oh no. If my mind wasn’t racing before, it was racing then. All my thoughts jumbled into a chaotic scream.

In today’s America it is becoming harder and harder to know what is truth and what is fiction. The best way to have a complete understanding is to look at the facts and the statistics about whatever you want to know more about. For example when people look at Islam there are numerous misconceptions that people hold with or without knowing it.

Focusing on the course that lay ahead, chills slithered down my back. The shot of the reverberating gun fired and I charged with my heart pounding like the sound of a drum. With my arms pumping and legs moving vigorously onto the course, I was the average runner in battle with my mind. My teammates leaped and hopped with excitement as I bolted; I pictured my body gracefully drifting through the air while the world stood silent. The last grueling hundred meters, I thrusted my body to the end of the finish line while the other runners stood in utter awe of my amateur performance, I flailed to the ground. Staring up at the sky, as I sat breathless and fatigued, engulfed in deep thought. I could feel the wind in my face and the dirt in my mouth. I was swept away by the calm before the storm, the exhilaration, the immense amount of heart each individual had, but mostly the passion for running.

The genre of this text is Nonfiction. I know it is nonfiction because he says stuff that has happened to him in the past or stuff he has done. He also tries to persuade others to e a leader and don’t be like him. The main idea and the purpose of this story is to persuade children to try and be a leader and don’t joke others so you won’t feel bad about yourself. I said this is the main idea because it talks about how people shouldn’t follow what he did in school and that they should remember the golden rule. The point of view of this narrative was in first person narrative. It showed imagery. An example of imagery is where he put icy hot in his teammates shorts. The mood of the story would be regret fullness because he was regretting being mean