Lila Ross: A Short Story

Upon seeing a clear, beautiful blue sky, many people would believe that the day would be peaceful, no rain or thunderstorms. But that was not the case on September 11, 2001.

It was on July 22, 1975, I can remember it as vividly as if it was yesterday. I was having lunch with my 2-year-old goddaughter, Tiare, and suddenly a fire broke out in our apartment. We tried to find a way out but the fire escape had already collapsed. I went to the balcony and found a crowd of people, pedestrians, firemen, policemen and even photographers. Everyone was hustling to help us but it was nearly impossible to reach us on the upper floor. Eventually a firefighter came to rescue us. As they were placing a ladder, the balcony suddenly fell. I grabbed the firefighter’s legs as he held onto the ladder. In a glimpse of an eye I found myself mid-air with nothing to do but pray that my daughter would be fine as she we were just inches apart. This is my story, I am Diana Bryant. I’ve heard plenty of conversations about the pictures that were taken of me in this

Lori Hart is heading west toward Big Bend, Texas, determined to find a better life. When she'd discovered her boyfriend cheating on her with the new receptionist he'd hired, Lori decided she must break away from that overbearing sneak who refused to let her do anything without checking with him first. Now looking for a new job, she also needs a new place to live.

Kathryn Legros looked at the violin in her hands and smiled at herself in the mirror, admiring the outfit her younger sister, Lise, had chosen.

This is a letter in support of Sally Robertson, a very talented teacher with whom I have had the pleasure of working as her student and her colleague over the course of many years at Georgia Perimeter College.

Willow smiled evilly. The black kittypet lashed his tail. Willow’s grey and black-specked pelt was ungroomed, and her silverish chest was bent in awkwardly as she stalked away. The small black kittypet with a blue, yet blood-stained, collar followed on her tail. A rouge slid up to her, flashing his claws across her pelt, but Willow snapped his neck before her blood started welling out. Ash stopped in his tracks, eyeing the surroundings carefully, before following her. The black tom’s amber and blue icy gaze flittered over the blood. He licked his muzzle.

It was the day, the day Gwen Saunders had been waiting, something she's been looking forward, something she's been doing since an infant: Dance. Her first international recital in front of thousands of people all over the world, and in front of her, four of the most famous dance judges sat before her, looking down at their papers, while the crowd mummer and continued their conversation before the lights dimmed on the clean, smooth stage.

What would life be like if you packed your bags and just left the comfort of your home and went somewhere to challenge who you are as an individual. Would life be better if you lived in a different country or would it make you more grateful of the blessings you have that others do not. What if someone walked up to you and said its time to test who you are? Would you accept the challenge or would you walk away.

He hoped that the taste of mint overpowered that of alcohol; just a couple of beers for Dutch Courage; as they shared a soft kiss, and when she exited the bathroom a deep breath escaped his lips, elicited by the visage before him. This was the woman he loved and, as he'd done for the past month, he told himself that the fire she'd ignited could be quenched by continuing to visit prostitutes. Lila need not be aware, and in the end, it was for her benefit. A man could justify any act if he desired to commit it enough.

The tragic end of the beautiful Andrea Gail and the fate of all the lives on that boat is yet unknown. In the meantime, my last thought at this point of the story is I’ve come to the conclusion that the more often you go out, the more likely you are to never come back. The only way to guard against these dangers is to stop rolling the dice.

Aviane. Leah Martin Strauss somberly fingered the blister of pink pills from it’s nondescript white and pink wrapper with a resigned sigh. For a soon to be sixteen year old young girl, getting on birth control for the first time is usually an exciting, transformative occasion but Leah had a far more pessimistic outlook: She might just need it to protect herself. She gingerly peeled the small pill out of the blister and ingested it; just one week from that day, she could very well be happy to have taken this precaution.

Amid the repetitive grind of metal-on-metal motion playing out beneath her feet, Lana Stevens, along with the other two-hundred-fifty passengers, arrived in the town of Shadow Falls on Thursday, October 29, 2015. The sun shined bright that early morning, as the passenger train pulled into the station, gradually coming to a stop alongside the newly constructed concrete platform.

Sabrina Neyra has been working at her parents business, a bakery and cafe, since she was just ten years old. “I always helped my mom with cake decorating.” she says. As she grew older, she received more responsibilities. Now, at the age of 14 she works as a hostess; greeting guests, showing them to their table, giving them menus and silverware, as well as telling them the specials. “The first time I had to serve, I was really scared that I would say something wrong.” she recalls.

Jessime smirked at his master, pleased to hear that his insult had some possible truth despite due punishment. He watched the older elf sit next to him and dine on the left over boar meat, while awaiting his turn to eat. He took up the piece of boar flesh that his master tossed at his feet and began to chew on it. The slave boy nodded while eating, respectfully giving careful thought to his masters words while considering the gravity of their circumstance. It was true that Jessime didn't give much thought about long term goals, consequences, or whats best for him or even anyone else for that matter, but he had his reasons for not seeing things that way.

While reading this short story, I kind of sense that the narrator was a little judgmental, but then as I continued reading, I realized that everyone in this short story is. The narrator is clearly omniscient (limited) because of the way they talk about characters, but they seem to be limited to Mrs. Hopewell and Joy (Hulga). Although the narrator makes judgmental comments about what is going on, I would argue that the characters and the narrator aren’t so distant because the narrator often re-enforces some of the claims that the characters make, and their values change to be in sync with each other.