Red Log Cabin: A Narrative Fiction

In the year 1852, nine short years before the civil war began in 1861, Harriet Stowe published arguably the most influential, groundbreaking, and controversial books in American history, Uncle Tom’s Cabin. The novel drew widespread criticism for the depiction of African Americans and slaves in a time when the United States of America was teetering on civil unrest due to the strength of the opposing views between the North and the South. The rapid expansion and growth the United States throughout the 19th century had led to an increase in labor demands, and slavery was not only viable but also essential to the economic prosperity of the southern states. The argument over slavery was wrestled with for the entire history of the young nation,

***=Work on You wake up to go get coffee and you see a murder scene with your two best friends dead. In the book “The Cabin” by Natasha Peterson, seven friends go to one of their parents’ cabin, in the middle of nowhere. After their first night there they wake up to two of their friends dead. With no signs of forced entry, suspicion turns to Blake, Mckenzie, Aaron, Megan and Kyle the five survivors.

Uncle Tom's Cabin, composed by Harriet Beecher Stowe and distributed in 1852, is an abolitionist-themed novel portraying the tragedies of bondage in the United States. It was immensely persuasive, prompted the formation of a basic pejorative, and was maybe even a reason for the Civil War.

It was another busy Friday night at the Slow Hand Saloon, New York City’s hottest country bar. Penelope McKay had been overwhelmed when she had seen the crowd lined up around the corner waiting to get in. She was thankful Cheyenne was helping her tonight, she would not be able to keep up without the help. It seemed each weekend the crowds grew as did the lines waiting to get in, this was going to be a long night. Penelope’s white cowboy boots clunked across the hardwood floor, she had heads turning as she walked back to the bar. The tassels on her white vest swayed with each step and her daisy dukes hugged her hips, showing off lean, tanned legs. Her long blonde hair was perfectly curled, cascading down her back. Penny took her place behind the bar, checked to see if anyone needed a drink and got ready for her shift.

“Sloppy all sloppy!” He shouted. “It wasn't our fault sir!” A young familiar voice raised up. “It was that stupid kid. He didn't know what he was doing!” “That's no excuse!” The red wolf interrupted. The red wolf began to slowly walk around the table. “Your incompetence disgraces us all! If you would have done as I had said, then we wouldn't have had to try and kill that dumb giant and that stupid old fool.” The giant? were they talking about Wygar? I wondered who the old fool was he mentioned too. “We need to do something while we have the chance.” Another member chimed. “Kill Randall Kade! He is becoming a nuisance!” another young voice said. I felt my heart sink down into my stomach. “Yeah! Slit his throat in his sleep!” “With him gone no, one can stop us!” A third member begged.

The day was bright and sunny, perfect for the festivities. Everyone in the quaint little town of Black Rock came out for the unveiling. A steady breeze, flowing down from the towering mountains, wove in between those gathered; tussling hair, knocking over the occasional empty drink cup, and stealing children’s balloons if they were careless. The food tables overflowed with every dish imaginable, letting everyone pick from delights as they chose. The hum of a coal barge became background noise as it lumbered up the Kanawha River. It’s crew unaware of the excitement just a stones throw away. As noon approached, everyone gravitated to the bandstand while the local bluegrass band finished their rendition of “Country Roads.”

Up and over the mossy green hill, an abandoned red barn awaits to be investigated. The hill was steep and blanketed with a sheet of dew, making it a struggle to climb over. Each footing consisted of slips from a squeaky shoe. By the time I was on the other side of the hill, my toes were ice. Heavy breaths of fog left my chapped lips while my feet stumbled across the solid ground. The lone barn was farther than it seemed. I was getting tunnel vision, feeling the grey sky close in on me. Before I knew it, I was at the wooden barn. Time fast forwarded. Perhaps I fell unconscious and was swept and carried away by the frost-bitten breeze that slapped at my cheeks. The cold, unwelcoming invite the barn gave, caused me to shiver more than I already

While their traveling to the Ohio River, Eliza shows how much she cares about her little boy by feeding him and not eating. She did this to make sure Harry doesn’t starve. Also she carried him along the way and let him rest upon her shoulder. She describes the touch of her child in which she admires.

The Whiting Homestead in St. Johns, Arizona, has brought our family together for nearly one-hundred years. On July 19th, 1919 a land patent was issued to my great- great grandfather, for one-hundred and sixty acres of land in the White Mountains. He was able to claim this land after three years of walking countless miles from his home, to stay there every night to claim the land. This place has brought me so many cherished memories, and I have always loved everything about going up to the White Mountains and staying in our grandparents’ cabin. We called it the “Brown Cabin,” because it was painted a dull, cocoa brown color. It was a quaint little cabin with a kitchen area, and separated by a door, was a big room where family members would crowd

Deep in the woods there was a cabin at the end of a long, winding driveway. The screens of the windows were flapping in the wind. The steps creaked with every footstep that Ruth Smith took. As she opened the door to her Grandpa’s cabin, she wondered why he had given her this dilapidated building in his will. Ruth looked around the cabin and said “This is going to take forever to get ready to sell.”

The girl asks her partner to wait while she takes things in her hands. She walks up to the guys who were preparing a speed boat. As she walks in her swimsuit, she flaunts them with her charm and as the guy returns to the cabin to take the rest of the things, she asks about the boat. She then quickly draws her gun and shoots the guy on the boat.

The harsh ding of the frozen bell woke the slumbering snow. The frail cabin walls offer little shelter as Ppeople enter and cluster into groups shivering with their tattered clothes and muddy arms around the frail wooden cabin. A man in the groupYuri turns to observe the walls of the campof his internment before entering. Men on the wall stride passionatelyrelentlessly, staring down at the group like eagles observing their prey.

For years there had been a standing invitation for me to come and visit Poplar Hill, the opportunity arrived in the Fall of 1986. October, a good time to travel to the south, usually the time of year when the intense heat of the summer in Mississippi is waning and cooler conditions are on the way, but not the summer of 1986, the heat, was still intense. Ordinarily, visiting with family, an easy task, however, this visit was a bit different. Excited by the opportunity of this visit, a bit nervous, questioning my preparation, but determined to gain knowledge and the hope to chronicle stories about Jefferson County, and the Poplar Hill Plantation. Amazingly, I fell in love with this place in the backwoods of Jefferson County, it would

How would your like to go to a creepy old cabin? Well you want to find out what happens to these three friends that plan to be out at this old cabin for three days continue reading. So there were three kids the oldest 15 by the name on Charlie. The second one by the name of Mary she was 13. The youngest, 13, his name was Miles. They we're all quite close friends.

America’s history has been a hard progression. The Civil War marked one of the most monumental turns for American progression. The abolishment of slavery represented the first major challenge to the America ideal of democracy. Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin to advocate for this abolishment, and thus had to maneuver through the great American paradox, the paradox between American revolutionary ideals and the realities of a slaveholding and repressive state. It was necessary to recognize the historical roots of slavery as incompatible with the founding principles of the nation. However, the founding fathers themselves largely supported or ignored this incompatibility. Stowe represents the most famous founding father, George Washington,