Noah Carraways: A Short Story

In the passage “Noah Count and the Arkansas Ark”, Gary Blackwood demonstrates narrator’s point of view regarding his family’s lack of education changes over the course of the story by showing how the son sees how the father was right about what he was thinking would happen soon. The people

“I believe you have the KEG.” Roger Nelson stated with little conviction. “No,” Dr. Alex Cord insisted. “I think you’re holding something from me,” Roger required. “Don’t know what you Cord yelled donning his night robe and fumbling with the belt, while also scampering to the door bare feet through the living room. The carpet muted his footfalls.

He dressed quickly, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, before opening the tall white wooden door and closing it shut quietly behind him. The floorboard's creaked underneath his feet as he tried to make his way down the spiral staircase to the kitchen without making a ton of noise. Luke held tightly onto the thin wooden railing and made down the stairs.

Meanwhile, Frankie and Jackson were smiling awkwardly and trying not to be utterly disturbed by their new

John’s eyes dropped to look at the cracked, wood panels on the floor. He inhaled deeply,

Matthew dealt out the flat red cards into an even amount between his sister, Sarah, and himself. Matthew kept thinking of a way to beat his sister in this card game. Matthew focused on the cards as if they were the questions of his test, and his cards were

Jack was waiting for something, he knew. The man was taking deep, uneven breaths. Staring at floor, as if even he couldn’t believe what he had just put on the table.

The girl stopped screaming. She looked at Lauren with round eyes. “My parents...they’re dead!” Chills raced down Lauren’s breath at the young girl’s words. “Is…whose blood is that?” The girl shrugged, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please, help me!” Lauren took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, come here.” She gladly obeyed, and stepped into Lauren’s house, blood trailing in her wake. Lauren swallowed and closed the door behind her. “I’ll just grab a cloth. Wait

“Whatever I say,” he replied with a smile of triumph. “I will show up when needed to have things done… right,” he said as he turned to walk out of the room. “I’ll keep in touch with you, Dr. Flanagan.” As the doors to autopsy opened up, Bobby Wyatt walked in

Dashiell Hammett’s novel, The Maltese Falcon, is a hard-boiled detective novel; a subset of the mystery genre. Before the appearance of this sub-genre, mystery novels were mainly dominated by unrealistic cases and detectives like Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. As Malmgren states, “The murders in these stories are implausibly motivated, the

Stiles walked over to me as he helped me up "Thanks" I mumble to him as we both looked at the chair that lay on the floor. Stiles went over to it to pick it up.

He dismounted and held his arms up to help her down. Nodding her understanding, she tried moving her numb legs, but this shifted her off balance. She fell.

They jumped into the entrance. The man dumped Emily to the ground, and used his massive hairy hands to pull up the bookcase.

“Jack?” I slowly asked, “Where are you,” I could barely make a whisper I was so

Once these boys join Jack’s tribe, they are forced to follow his orders, committing heinous atrocities against their former friends in a desperate attempt to avoid the physical punishment Jack inflicts on those who disobey him. Jack rules his subjects through fear and intimidation, and yet lures them in by playing on hidden desires unbeknownst to them. Jack is often shown acting cruel and menacing towards the other boys, however is he also shown as being self-conscious and a bit insecure: “Boys are desperate to distract from their own helplessness and do so by projecting their fear of subjection onto an even weaker