My Father : A Short Story

October 31st, 2006, almost 11 years ago my life took a dramatic turn. At only 9 years old I stepped on a roller coaster-like life event that is going to change my life forever. A 9 foot fall from a house would threaten my father’s life in an instant. On Halloween 2006 while most children were getting ready to go trick or treating, I wasn’t. I was sitting in Lancaster General Hospital waiting room confused on what just happened. I have never wanted to see my father more than I did in that moment. I can

a cold dark winter night and my father was supposed to be home from work so my mother kept calling his cellphone. After many unanswered calls, a woman picked up the phone, it was a nurse who told us that my father had been in a terrible motor vehicle accident. That night and the next few weeks came with a lot of confusion and emotions, we didn’t know if he would survive. I was over come with fear and sadness, I didn’t think I would never be able to talk to my father again. He served in the military

My father’s story starts from humble beginnings. His earliest memory was of gunfire from a firefight between American G.Is and Viet Cong guerrilla forces. His father, my grandfather, who was a Captain in the South Vietnamese forces was imprisoned for 2 years due to ‘treason’ against the communist regime. Which in turn meant that all members of the family were denied the right to higher education by the regime and were closely watched by the government. Furthermore, being born as the 12th child in

that I would never see my father again. I no longer felt the comfort of the sound of the trickling water through the walls when he would shower and the feeling of accomplishment when I could make him belly laugh. I had gone to work for the night and, half way through my shift a police officer came in. The police officer took my boss outside to speak with him. My co-workers and I joked around about who it was gonna be. I assured them that it was not anything I had done. When my boss came back inside

My father was a high-functioning alcoholic for the vast majority of his life. However, nobody seemed to notice, not me, not my mother, not his friends, nobody. I did not know that people had parents who did not drink daily. It was not until halfway through my freshman year of high school when my parents announced their sudden divorce to my siblings and me that I ever questioned if he was okay. I think the divorce pushed him from being functional to someone I no longer recognized. He quit his job

Learning English through Short Stories Compiled by Melinda Lo I : Question types: A. on reading and appreciating short stories 1. A student at your school has posted this blog on the Intranet for your school: Write a letter in response to this, either agreeing or disagreeing with Keith. Do not give an address and sign your letter ‘Billy Ho.’ 2. ‘The best way to improve one’s English is to read short stories.’ Do you agree or disagree

When I was young my mother and my father both had very different opinions on how you should raise a child. And since my father was the one paying the bills and bringing home the paychecks for a few years, I didn’t really get to see him much because he worked all day. So my mother was the one who raised me for the most part. At the time she would spoil me like crazy. If I asked for something the answer would always be yes, and if I didn’t get my way I would start having a fit until she finally caved

didn't know what to do. Well I have and i'm here to tell you about my story. My story is about the summer that my dad had a heart attack. On july 20th 2016 my father had a heart attack.This is how the day went before the event. I was over at my friends house and when my dad came to take me and my friend to his house her mom said to me “Do you know if your dad is sick because he looks kind of sick”. When my friend and I got home my dad decided to mow the lawn. It was like 90-100 degrees outside

It has been a month since my parent’s divorce. I was torn. All of my world was beautiful until that one day where I would see my mom more than my dad. The problem is, I am more alike with my dad than my mom, so I like to hang out with him rather than her. We both have brilliant blue eyes and pale skin, but my hair is curly and his isn’t. That is the only difference. “Aleah!” my mom calls, “You have a phone call!” I rush downstairs to answer the phone. I bet it is my friend calling. “Hello?”

evacuation. Desensitization played a huge role in the loss of innocence that took place during this biography. In the biography “First They Killed My Father” written by Loung Ung, Loungs loss of innocence is destroyed due to the harsh rule of the Khmer Rouge. Loung is thrown into the midst of the war almost instantly. “Yesterday I was playing hopscotch with my friends. Today we are running from soldiers with guns (Loung 27).” Not only is Loung ripped out of her everyday life instantly, but now she is