Kristy's Sacrifice: A Narrative Fiction

The air was crisp and without a sign of clouds in the sky. Orange and yellow leaves blew to and fro, and despite it being late fall, it was hot, and the girl was lightly sweating. As she was walking to her car to get to her English class at another school, she enjoyed the warm and fresh air that only happens right before the cold, freezing winter. Because of the school’s miniscule parking spaces, the girl had to park further away in order to fit her moss green truck she drove, but she did not mind the extra walk in the bright afternoon. Inside her truck, she was met with musty, hot air. Instead of turning on the air conditioning, the girl decided to open her windows, to let the fresh air ventilate the truck and cool it off. As she drove out of the parking lot and stopped at a stop sign to turn right onto a busy road, a man noticed her from across the

I went to grandmother’s house on the day of the festival, and when I get there. She gave me a list of things that I had to do while she went to the market. I was already upset with the fact that I wasn’t going to the festival, I was even more upset when she started telling me the things that I had to do. I didn’t want to do any of the things she was telling me because all I wanted to do that day was going

Carole and I were fleeing with urgency down the steep driveway, arms and legs pumping with fear. Which way to go? Down the reedy river path with potential snakes and the risk of being seen or the creepy drainage ditch? Looking back toward the house with rapid fire beats in our hearts, fear drove us forward. We searched to see how far ahead we were. Not far. Not as far as we needed to be, but he hadn’t appeared yet. The only logical way was through the rusty damp and dark pipes so we wouldn’t be seen. Our noses wrinkled with the disgust upon entry, filling our nostrils with a strong smell of mold and crud collected from storms.

Rain fell from the cloudy night sky and pounded against the ground, and standing off from a two-story house was a man dressed in a traditional men’s kimono. He watched as the parents of Sarah and Samantha, Dennis and Caroline climbed into their Maroon Honda Pilot as they did every Friday night at 8pm until midnight, leaving their two 16 year old daughters all alone. His eyes followed the car intently as it drove down the road with several different colored leaves blended together on the road and the two back tires of the car. Once it turned the corner, out of sight, he turned back to the house. As he watched them through the bay window leading to the living room he went through the facts of his victims over in his mind. While they were twins, they were very different. Sarah, the older twin was very adventurous while Samantha kept more to herself. Along with the facts of the girls going through his mind he was wondering if he was going to kill them right away or if he was going to take them to a house that he had set up for his victims in one of the abandoned houses in the woods. The man was brought out of his thoughts as another car pulled into the driveway. He relaxed once he saw that it was just the delivery guy from the local pizza place, right on schedule.

Just as I opened the door from the boys’ floor, I stumbled onto Mr. Farrow and that freakishly unhot witch from downstairs, Mrs. Singer. So I kept running. I had to or else they'd catch me and I would essentially be dead meat. It was truly a life or death situation.

When I stepped out of the car onto the freshly paved road, I instantly recognized the smell of asphalt that was paved onto the street moments ago. I could hear the jackhammers pounding into the ground, making the ground shiver as if it was cold and the sound of power tools grinding into metal pierced my ears. As I looked up to the sky, I saw cranes towering above me and mirrored skyscrapers reflecting the bright, blinding light. In the distance, I could see the Art Museum with hundreds of people racing up the steps like tiny ants. At the top, stood the Rocky Balboa statue and other structures, with bystanders modeling for pictures as if they were on the red carpet.

I climbed on a low brick wall that had crumbled over time. My eyes roamed over the graffiti and my hands couldn't help but rub against the cracks and ridges that had been there for far too long. A few spare weeds dryly coughed in the air. My impatient hands tightened against the cold structure involuntary. "There you are!" I heard a voice over the stammering of feet. I twisted around to find the caller. He was just another face in pushing and pulling in the tide of people. "Over here!" He shouted again. My eye caught hands frantically brushing the sky with his fingertips. I pushed through the stampede. "Where have you been all day? I couldn't find you at lunch." Ross (that was his name, right?) guided me through the crowded parking

At 11:34 p.m. Marty Wilkins pushed the button for the 24th floor of his apartment elevator. The metal doors slid noiselessly across greased tracks and he walked to the window at end of the muted yellow hallway. He climbed out onto the fire escape, scaled up its ladder, and padded silently across the roof. Marty sat on the knee high retaining wall that bordered the roof, and his feet hung loosely into the nothingness. He liked the way the wind bounced up from the street, bringing with it the smells and sounds of the Friday night.

The temperature was falling fast. It’s windy. There was snow in the rain that was splatting against the windows of the houses. The roads were as empty as those on Sunday mornings. Jacquen was going home in a car along with his parents. his father was driving the car very recklessly for the weather was getting worse and he had to catch a flight to Los Angeles the next morning. suddenly his father saw a wagon approaching them like a monstrous beast . His father slammed on the brake to avoid crashing into the wagon but the road was slippery. a sudden panic rushed into the car. they were blinded by the headlight from the wagon and the car continued to slip and finally barged into the

Krystal was very early for her interview. She was dressed professionally. She is a 16 year old young lady. She moved to the United States in 2007 from the Philippines. She has emerged herself into learning everything that she could about America. Education is critically for her because her family made a huge sacrifice to leave their home and family in order to give Sierra and a brother a better life. She will be retaking the ACT in April because she wants to get a 30 on her composite. She wants to be a pediatrician. She believes that her great organizational skills will serve her will in medical school and being a doctor. Her friends would describe her as hard working, high spirited and dedicated to whatever

Why do we risk our happiness for others? In “The Third Wish,” by Joan Aiken, Mr. Peters and his wife, Leita, both have to make sacrifices for each other. In this short story, a man named Mr. Peters is introduced when he sees a swan who was stuck in a thorn bush. Once he helps the swan, it is revealed to him that the swan was actually a forest king. The king grants Mr. Peters three wishes. Mr. Peters uses his first wish for a wife. He gets a wife named Leita, who is truly a swan. Mr. Peters realizes that Leita misses her old life with her sister. He dolefully uses his second wish to turn Leita back into a swan so she can be happy again. Mr. Peters, from then on, visited Leita and her sister. He dies peacefully and happily and never uses his third wish. In “The Third Wish,” the reader learns how sacrifice can lead to a person’s happiness or dismay.

In the morning, Anna decided she would look one last time at the padded room and its contents then she would cover it over and put a false wall in front of it. Anna shone the torch in the room her jaw dropped;

It was an early April morning, there was still dewdrops on the tulips in our front yard from the storm that rolled through the night before. My family and I all pile into the our gray mini van. We are all dressed in our nicest shoes and combed out our messy hair. We had to wear dresses because pants aren’t “ladylike”. My mom passing us little mints to suck on while we rush down the freeway.

“Sweetie, you know what goes on at those parties,” Mom says, as I begin to pack my bag for Gramma’s house. I turn around and begin to make my dinner of the one and only... Mac and Cheese. My friend Keesha invited me to a party this weekend that all of her friends are coming to and then, some more that that. I really wanted to go but when I saw the look on Mom’s face when I told her that I wanted to go, her eyes looked sharp as ice. She doesn’t like me going to popular events, like a party. She won’t even let me go to the park by myself because she is scared I will be irresponsible and get hurt. I notice the water start to boil and I suddenly am snapped back to reality. I put the Mac and Cheese into a plastic container and grab a fork. I run upstairs and grab my phone and charger. I tell my Mom

We finally made it to the roof. It was about ten floors up. In order to get to the roof you had to climb two different ladders. The first ladder led to an elevated platform, that had the second ladder leading to the roof. When I was on the roof, I had the best view of the city I have ever had in my life. Since the building was so high you could see the entire part of downtown Minneapolis. Eventually, Emily’s group and her made it to the roof. Everything was perfectly fine, until Emily and her two friends decided to start smoking pot on the roof. Their recklessness made us feel unsafe. We left shortly after. On my way down the ladders I noticed