Oliver Trenton: A Short Story

Though he has to be into his 40s (he's a Korean War veteran), he is also totally in touch with the contemporary scene... How, an author-illustrator alone. Asked if he would change something he had produced on an editor's say-so, he answered with a flat "No." But he added: "Oh, I will take a suggestion for revision. I do eliminate certain things when I'm writing for children if I think only an adult will get the idea. Then I drop it, or save it. But editors messing with content? No." Had he been surprised by the astronomical record of The Giving Tree, his biggest seller to date and one of the most successful children's books in years? Another emphatic no. "What I do is good," he said. "I wouldn't let it out if I didn't think it was." It tells of a tree and the use a man makes of it. When he is a boy, he plays in the tree's branches and enjoys its luscious fruit. Later, he courts his love under the tree and uses some of its wood to build a house for his family. Years pass; the man is now old and alone. The tree lets him take its trunk to carve a boat from, and the man rows away. Finally he returns for the last time to sit and rest on the stump of the tree—all that's left of it.[9][14] But The Giving Tree, which has been selling steadily since it appeared almost 10 years ago and has been translated into French, is not his own favorite among his books. "I like Uncle Shelby's ABZ, A Giraffe

A beam of early morning sunlight played on his face. He turned and scooted to another part of the bed in order to avoid waking. Within a few minutes the beam of sunlight had caught up with him again and was shining again directly on his eyelids. He lay there, his head in a fog, rubbed his eyes and stared at the white plastered walls trying to determine where he was and even who he was. The brightness of the room overwhelmed him with a fierce intensity. It was a few minutes before his eyes became accustomed to the light. He entertained his semi-waking mind by tracing patterns of the earthy colors on the tapestry that hung on the wall facing him. He rubbed his hands slowly on the bedsheet, felt a smoothness and said to himself, "This

I made my way to my aunt’s house. Her home smelled of fresh cut pine, and she offered me a cup of coffee with a cinnamon stick in it. I accepted, and we went to the kitchen table and discussed our week. As she talked, I looked out her kitchen table. A small oak grew in the front yard. Snow capped the birdfeeder beside her bird bath.

. Entering through a set of double doors, he stood flabbergasted by its size and furnishings of a large bed, desk, several stuffed chairs and even a fireplace. Book shelves, lined one of its walls, entirely filled from floor to ceiling with books, but the balcony, drew his attention with its panoramic view of the city, however the bed beckoned him, and looking very inviting, quickly stripped himself of his armor and clothes to climb into it and when his head hit the goose down pillow, was fast asleep.

He waited until the night’s 11th hour. By now the Princess rested in the highest tower of the castle, locked away from the dangerous world, yet so oblivious to the dangers that which fated the rest of her life. Silently the peasant journeyed outside, where he stopped at the wall of the tower where she lay. He watched her in the darkness from below, lifting his face to her, letting the light rest on his every surface of darkness. The night was cloudless. The winds wailed between the motionless oak trees as its thin branches clawed out, ever so slightly disturbing the leaves with its hostile screeches. Not the thick moss of the trees nor the damp leaves squirming in his toes could distract the peasant from so enticing a scent. All that encircled him was the sweetness of lavender and rosewood, filling his entire being as he sunk into the grass, like sand washed over by the water, with every breeze passing

The boy lay there next to his father keeping each other warm from the chilling atmosphere where they set camp. The air was so moist it turned the dirt into damp mud and the boy could feel his sleeping bag submerge into it. The intimidating glare of an owl examining him sent a tingle up his spine. The sounds of bugs chiming filled the ambience, killing the silence giving him a sense of security. He looked up at the twilight sky illuminated by the blinding shimmer of the full moon gleaming through the forest trees over him. Surrounding it was an array of glimmering stars prompting the sky alive. As his body grew accustomed to the environment, each natural attribute gave him comfort and allowed him to slowly fall into a deep sleep.

In the story Dalton and Jersey are turning 19 and are both trying to get on a really good soccer team for college. But first, they have to face a some really good soccer teams in the Sporting LS soccer cup. But they’ll have to face some challenges. There are college scouts watching them play to get them a college scholarship. Do you think they’ll have a shot? Do you think they can win the tournament? You’ll find out if you keep reading.

In the story A Marvelous Run by Tom Sullivan, the author uses craft techniques to give the story a deeper meaning. Sullivan uses very detailed descriptions throughout the story to paint a vivid picture in the reader’s mind. In the story, Tom goes on a run with his dog. Generally, this would be a rather mundane story that contains no significant meaning. However, Tom unfortunately lacks the ability to see.

I just try to rest,” (Bradbury 6). This excerpt from the story perfectly justifies not only the Illustrated Man’s purpose in the tale, but also the narrators. The Illustrated Man is present for the sole purpose of providing the plot of the story through his multi-fabled skin, and the narrator is there for the purpose of telling the stories that he has seen too many times to take the slightest

Many had made arrangements for new cabins to be waiting for them, others would stay with family members or friends; as for Adam, he headed towards a lodge to spend the night. The next morning, Adam was fully prepared to begin in his journey in making his fame. His plan was to go up north and see what treasures he could find. Four hours into his journey, and Adam had already began to experience a whole new world. He wrote every single detail down in his journal like the diverse species of birds and small beasts, as well as the exotic plants he encountered. As he continued to walk, he heard the song the birds chirped in trees along with the crunching of dried leaves and branches made with every step taken and fragrance of pine cones filled his nose. He was amazed by the beauty of the forest, but what he did not know was he was not

It was a wild night on the Ohio River, and now he rode on into the night the blackness for so long. The wind buffeted him as all heaven burst open and rain came down torrentially , onto him, onto his horse, onto the letter. It was a dark and stormy night indeed. He rode on into

Spritz walked into the den with Art and helped him get settled into his pile of sticks and leaves, he went right to sleep. She left the muggy den to go find some food for Art, she knew that his favorite foods were the grasses in the meadow. She dug up piles of his favorite grasses and quickly brought them back to Art. He was awake and slowly sipping water from the dish Spritz had left, before she went to go forage for food.

Time had flown by rapidly and Lawrence Exeter Jr was turning eighteen. His father, Lawrence Exeter Sr., was a 45 year old businessman working for a fancy company. He had grey hair, which used to be brown, and had to wear reading glasses. Money was never a problem for the Exeter's in fact, the folks around town said they had rather too much money. L dumbstruck of what present he should buy his son. Perhaps a dog, or maybe a house? What could an eighteen year old boy want? A lightbulb went off in his head. He knew what he was going to get him. The next morning came sooner than expected and Jr. was excited to see his gift. Sr. waited for Jr. to meet him out in front of their garage. A glistening red cadillac car was parked, awaiting to be touched

The speaker furthermore conveys the idea that nature is a grandeur that should be recognized by including the element of imagery. The poet utilizes imagery as a technique to appeal to reader’s sense of sight . It is “the darkest evening of the year” (line 8) and a traveller and his horse stop “between the woods and frozen lake” (line 7). By writing with details such as these, readers are capable of effortlessly envisioning the peaceful scenery that lies before the speaker. The persona then draws on reader’s sense of sound. “The only other sound’s the sweep / Of easy wind and downy flake.” The illustration allows readers to not only see,