Link Carter: A Short Story

However the brightness of the day may have dimmed, but not the joy from the people around me.  Everyone is either watching kids play basketball on the old wooden framed basketball hoop or enjoying a match of badminton while the zip-line flies by overhead.  The night however, does bring a mood about the people of the island.  It's a mood of vigor and excitement!  When the sun is beginning to set and the sky portrays a magnificent array of yellows reds and pinks which reflects off the water making a sort of etched painting glistening in the falling sun.  As the sun sets, dinner has just finished and we all part our ways,  many people sit on the back porch overlooking the water, a few go into to the square where people begin to prep for the glorious bonfire.  Although, I choose to sit in Toad Hall, this place is constructed out of old slender burned wooden planks, that have five little rooms cut out inside.  Toad Hall on the outside looks like a little ranch style home with wooden slabs on the outside along with a red tin roof, which is where I like to call my second home.  As dinner comes to an end so does the daylight.  As I walk out of Toad Hall a dark haze has consumed the island and I am excited by the smell of  burnt pine coming from a ferocious.  The fire has seemed to brought people out to see what the light is, buts it's when they arrive they are surprised to see the glorious fire which has brought people together around the old brick fire pit.  Here we tell stories, sing songs and make s'mores until it is pitch black and the crowd has slowly dispersed into their cabins or tents and it is now I say my goodnights to my family and friends and tread my way back on the dirt path.  I can see the gazebo, as I bank the corner, it stands tall in the moonlight and the water has

“ Hey Jamie, you’re up. Come on you know you can make this shot, we need it to win the game.”

ii. Fire – “She was putting in a fire now, and he could no longer see her face.”

Through this first incident, Jeanette’s mother, Rose Mary, encouragingly said, “Good for you. You‘ve got to get right back into the saddle. You can’t live in fear of something as basic as fire” (Walls 9). Soon then, Walls became “fascinated with it” (Walls 9) as she passed her finger through a candle flame, slowing her finger with each pass, watching the way it seemed to cut the flame in half.

“Where’s the fire ma’am?” the young man said. “ You get in there and answer that question for yourself, young man. I called you twenty minutes ago. Is our house about to burst into flames while we’re standing out here?”

“It’s not everyday we get company around here,” I reminded myself, “we haven’t shown our chateau in ages.” As we walked down the elegant staircase, each step creaked one by one. My hand-held lamp with the bright, burning fire was in clutch as we walked around the dusty furniture until we saw some of my men. They were silent, but you could see the fear in their eyes - almost like the fear in Rainsford’s. One had the guts to come up, and offer another light looking for a way to impress me with his concern, but I quickly declined.

Bessie had just finished getting a check up by one of the cowhand and was wandering back into their fields to eat and get ready to move more westerly. There was a storm brewing that night and the cowhands were trying to prepare the cattle for the storm. There wasn't enough time for the cowhands or the trail boss to get all their cattle to safety and lightning struck to close to the cattle for them not to stampede. Bessie was the first of the cattle to stampede out of there field and off into the wilds of Arizona. The rest of the cattle followed after her in a panicked

“Coach Miller will post the rosters tomorrow at 12’ sharp. Gentlemen, let’s end with a prayer. Any volunteers?”

Coach jogs back from the opposing dugout, “Alright, Caleb, you’re now a member of the Orange Crush, and Lydia is a part of the

In the opening scene of Jane Martin’s “Rodeo,” there are many stereotypical props used to portray the beer-drinking, hard-working, cowboy image with the characteristic country music playing as an added touch. Most people are familiar with this type of scene in their minds, with a man as the character, but not this time – we find a tough, smart, opinionated woman with a distinctively country name of Lurlene, and the typical cowboy kind of nickname, Big Eight. The reader will dive deeper into the true character of this unusual woman and realize that she is no different from the average woman in today’s workforce. She is feeling the frustration of discrimination and the push out of the only lifestyle that she knows, by “Them” (1667).

On a warm, sunny Texas afternoon I walked through the Southlake strip mall. In the air a pungent odor danced around me. My hand went immediately to my nose, to block out the smell. The sun’s heat came glaring down at me as I shielded my hands in front of my face to keep the ray of light from hurting my sensitive eyes. The clouds seemed to dance across the vibrant blue sky. The pounding of my feet echoed across the

The flame had been extinguished, the feel of it snuffed out between his fingers nowhere near comparable to the heat scorching through his veins. His Grace had never been like this, had never scoured every nerve inside his vessel as it grew, it had always been warm, been comforting even in the most desperate of times and yet now. Why? Gabriel let his fingers brush over the heated wax, letting it conform to his fingertips before he pulled them back and watched it quickly dry. Pale nubs sat top his index and middle finger, twisting them slowly back and forth as he studied it before her voice caught him off guard. The wax was easily discarded, pulled off and set back at the base of the candle as he turned, almost uneasy at the fact that he hadn’t realized she woken up sooner.

She sat up slowly and stretched her arms straight out and rolled her shoulders as fluidly as a cat “Like it never happened.” (Donohue 214)

“Wow, Aren’t you cool man. Guess what we still have more ball to play, so i’d think about that before you say something else dumb,” Austin snapped back.

He desperately wished he would have listened after thinking that the old-timer was “rather womanly (page 1062)”. He struggled to start the fire and once he had a good one burning a huge tree capsized with snow and blotted out his fire. The man’s fingers were frozen together and he was cold. He struggled to restart the fire. He could not grab anything not even a match to restart the fire.