Assignment Fictional Narrative Your short story should be 1–2 pages long. Before submitting your story, make sure you story has • An exposition, rising action, climax, and a resolution. • A setting, plot, and theme. • Imagery to create mood. • A narrator with a consistent point of view. • Dialogue to move the plot and show the characters’ ideas and feelings. • Consistent verb tense. • A variety of sentence structures—simple, compound, complex. • Correct capitalization, punctuation, and spelling.
Shattered Once upon a time, there was a sorcerer who had a twelve year old son named Darcy. Darcy had a magical power to see all things happening in the world. The sorcerer, knowing of his power, trapped Darcy in a mirror so that he could never leave him, but by doing this Darcy's power was limited so that he could only see things when a mirror was near by. Hearing of the boy's power, the Evil Queen had the sorcerer killed and took the young magical child ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Vignette # 4 I was wrapped in my blanket like a Butterfly in its cocoon. As soon as I began to have conscious thought of my crush, dancing, and my dreams turning into a reality my eyes opened as if I was facing Bruce Lee himself. Then I jumped out of my bed if I was running with gazelles in sub Saharan Africa. I smoothly landed into a crouched position on the ground I got straight into my dance battle stance with a stare determined like Eminem
Spencer clipped the gunmetal watch onto his right wrist, fitting it snuggly alongside the Armani bracelet a girl had given him as a present for his birthday a few months ago. He wore the bracelet because she still came to the club and it was a nice bracelet. Running a hand a long his jaw he felt the prickle of day old whiskers. Bright green eyes stared back at him from the glass; blonde hair was slicked back away from his face. New York girls loved the biker/business man look. He had to work
She stopped. The flat gold carpet tipped at a forty-five degree angle, then swirled away when she reached for it. The end table swooped and crashed a sharp edge into her arm. Then the floor lunged in and slammed against her side but not before her outstretched arms cleared the table of pill bottles, candles and lotions. The black lamp tipped, embroidered shade popping off and she felt the fall vibrate the walls as she lay there breathing. A lazy film of powder rose from where the light bulb used
The guy behind the piano sang Sinatra songs and flirted with sophisticated women in sparkling dresses that flocked around him. Discrete waiters moved among the tables serving drinks to smartly dressed men that smoked cigarettes stored in shiny cigarette cases. A perfect playground for classy people and she was way out of her league. It seemed like a good idea to broaden her horizon when she followed the whim to go there, but she didn’t feel as certain any more. Most of the men were too old, the
Mark and I didn't know what to think. To be honest Constantine sounded great. He didn't look crazy or like he was hiding something. I tried my best not to look back into the shop while Mark went into the grocery store across the street. I was waiting outside the car, pretending to text on my phone. Just then Constantine comes out with a bag and comes up to me. "Hey Emy, sorry to bother but I know how much your grandmother likes meat, so here." He gives me a bag of some meat, it looked really good
Snow was blown bits of metal that would dot your face with blood if you rode your bike fast enough. Rain became hard splats of gum and a breeze was something that could rip hair out of your head. Sue Lynn had raced him down a hill so high it seemed to be a mountain. They called it Sack Mountain but his momma said it was really a hill. If you wanted to see a mountain, there was the Rockies where she grew up. As if you could compare them. One was stone teeth in the sky and the other a mound of
Everything was the same this night. The woman’s house still stood, isolated on the slopping hill on the edge of the sleeping town. The single light in the house still shown through red-veined windows, casting shadows on the chair where the woman sat, but she was not in it. Every night the woman leaves in the unbroken night. No one sees her leave. She silently dissolves into the night. The woman travels to the same place every night. She is always unaware of the journey she had taken to come
When Athear Kalskelavth heard the distant strains of song drifting through the evening air like snow falling lightly on his shoulder, he knew he’d reached Orias Myth. Instead he stopped on the old stone roads and stood, listening, a clear distinct laugh in the distance, familiar yet a stranger to this barren landscape. A song soon followed, accompanied by a lute. It was sad yet beautiful and wise. Snowflakes drifted down silently to kiss his face and his horns, and yet he stood listening, heedless