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Melinda's Intrigue

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As much we believe our birth is the beginning of our lives, our identities have not yet fully began until we have created a path worth walking on. In other words, we are not who we think we are; we must find a life we want to live before we call it 'living'. One cannot survive without another since everyone is interconnected, and we all push in the direction we want to attain, be it in a positive way, or negative. The meaningless action performed by oneself, friends or family, is a faint voice calling, opening the so-called path for one to walk on. It is not easy to hear that voice, but in the goodness of coincidences, it creates new talent, intrigues surrounding people, and progresses a story without the person remembering. The memory that …show more content…

But now I am desperate to be her pal, her buddy, to giggle with her, to gossip with her. I want her to paint my toenails (Anderson 105).” In order to end her time as an outcast, Heather ends her friendship with Melinda. Melinda’s realization comes in when she wants her even more as a friend in the dying moments of their friendship. She wanted to feel cared for, before she was lonely once again. Personally, this hurt my heart to see a friendship end in order to gain something of lesser …show more content…

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield holds a story within many stories, with some down to earth and others out of this world. All of it took place in England, and harbored a famous author of even more famous tales. As a scrutinizing book keep, reader and biographer, many realizations manifested themselves throughout the revealed story author Vida Winter narrated to protagonist Margret Lea. The thirteenth tale, the unpublished and final end to the famous series. However, the main course itself wasn’t the one that hit home. It was the fact that Margret Lea, in fact, was a twin. I am also a twin. Margret grew up in a bookstore. She read books all day, so much to the point where she would stay up until early morning. She recalls a story when she was eleven, when her parents agreed to let her stay home alone without a baby sitter. Like most children, she got her nose in places it didn’t belong. She found herself in her parents’ room, snooping under his bed to discover a heartbreaking truth, “A death certificate. My twin was dead. I knew what it was that had stained me. Though I was stupefied by the discovery… (Sitterfield 25).” It struck her like a bullet, but somehow, she knew about her. Earlier, before the story, she analyzed the books-the old ones-in her shop. Something made them stand out, but at the same time, foreshadowed what happened in the rest of the book, and to me.

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