Richar's The Debunked-Personal Narrative

     But on one crazy afternoon, things didn’t go as planned. The plan was to walk in and walk out. In less then two minutes we’d have to retrieve the gem. The decoys were Ben and I and Richard was the front man. All it needed was three men for the job. No one was home; at least we thought there wasn’t anyone. The family of the house was having a birthday party for little Johnny outside in the garden and still figured we could manage to go inside and get the job done without them realizing. Surprisingly, as things were about to come to an end little Johnny walked in to find me stealing his rich grandfather’s red rose. His screams echoed all through and around the house, alarming everyone. Little Johnny became our only ticket out. We took him in

"You do not want that," I was so startled as a whispy, haunting voice came from behind me I almost dropped th object in my hands, she continued as I turned around to look at her, "careful, that is a very old and very special object.". She was an old woman, looked like she was in her 80s. She had waist-long frizzy grey hair framing thin her ivory colored face with a scowl on it at th moment, her skin looked paper thin, with deepset frow lines, light purple shadows under her eyes, and various spots and imperfections along her aged skin. She had on long dark indigo cloths on that seemed to swallow her entirely.

Later the morning, when Merlyn and his family went to eat their breakfast, they noticed the back door had been left ajar. Nervously, they took in their surroundings. It was Merlyn’s father, Robert Blair, who notified the family of the missing globe. His wife began panicking alongside Robert. Amidst the chaos, Merlyn quietly checked the ring of dust left by the trinket. Confused, he picked up a piece of black hair with a silver root, “Do we know anyone going gray?” His parents stared at him in disbelief before he clarified that he found it near the spot the globe typically was. The common area was silent when the first set of staccato knocks were heard, stuck in a stupor, they finally made a move towards the entrance when the sound of the doorbell echoed across the house. Robert rushed to answer the door first with Merlyn and his mother in tow. He made anxious eye contact with his family and opened the door.

The lock scene presents the question of why Richard married Joan. The Maple's marriage has not disintegrated through time, rather corrupt since conception. The act of 'fixing' the lock forces one to examine whom Richard loved and let slip away. Richards inability to love Joan is present through the “three hardware stores had nothing that even approximately matches the mortise hole it's remat….left" (801). This scene is something of an omission of guilt on behalf of Richard. Although this scene focuses on the lock's removal, hidden within ambiguity is Richard's admission of a love before Joan. Richard's attempt to replace the lock is an attempt to regain his lost love. Moreover, Richard is acting to replace the love for his wife that has disintegrated

In the short story “The Locket,” the author tells the story of soldiers during a war.The ending of “The Locket” was a surprise because the author lead the reader to believe that the locket was only worn by the main character, Edmond. Edmond’s appearance at the end was not what the reader expected.

The Locket , by Kate Choplin, is a very short story that manages to keep the reader guessing as to what might happen next. the story leaves one feeling at times as if they were completely right but only to find out that it was only a half truth. Their predictions would only fall short because of Choplin’s use and mastery of deception. Although the beginning is predictable, the audience is fooled when Choplin throws a twist in at the end.

The Locket is a story about a soldier who is apart from his love for a very long time, and the one thing that makes him the happiest and reminds him of her is that little gold locket she placed around his neck the day of his departure. In the beginning of this short story the locket is described as a good luck charm. Edmond is far away from his lover, Octavie, and only has the locket to keep him safe.

There he was again, staring out a window. This time, Harry was watching the suburban empire from which he had narrowly escaped, fly past in a dizzying blur. The bus was small and oddly smelled of raisins, but he was on his way. He had managed to elude Petunia’s hawk-like watch on him and prevail against all odds. In his hand, he still tightly clutched the locket, half afraid it would suddenly slip through his fingers. Quite honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if it did. In the wizarding world, anything was possible. Which was sometimes an unprecedented problem. Through the hexes and curses, riddles and potions, it could be hard to know what to believe. Harry was so sick of being lied to. It was an infuriating game of tag and chase. Every

It is 10 a.m. at the Philosopher’s cafe and Locke is sitting alone waiting for his meal. Locke, after dying at 72, was enjoying the sexy, swimsuit body he had in his youth. Locke was never the type of person to wake up early, but today he made an exception. He had received a letter encouraging him to meet up at the cafe to discuss Middle Passage. However, the meeting was already two hours in and he was still alone. Locke, his blood sizzling like the steak the waitress just served him, began to storm out the café. As he opened the door, he ran into another customer.

The feeling I get when I read this short story is one of mystery. The author sets the stage for this right from the very beginning when she describes the locket as some sort of good luck charm. When one of the men says:

He had once seen a man in a battered black hat, a worn out tailcoat and white gloves with holes in them. The man had been taking a dove out from the inside of his coat. As a kid, he was hooked, mesmerized, fascinated. He hadn’t understood, at that time, how the seemingly empty coat pockets could produce birds; how an orange could turn into an apple; how the magician had known exactly the card the “random volunteer” from the audience had chosen. It was a miracle, a tantalizing mystery that he couldn’t solve.

The street was eerily quiet as I crossed. So was Mike. Staring at me unwaveringly, he said nothing as I approached. The crow's feet framing his eyes, the ridges in his forehead, and the crinkles in his cheeks still stand out in my mind. How many nights had he lain on that bench, covering his face as the wind whipped against it? Now he hugged his body tightly. He was wearing an old pair of tan khakis, a shirt that I couldn't see clearly, and a light multi-colored jacket, its sleeves ending above his pale wrists, that was just slightly too small and clung to his body. As I gave him the money in my wallet, he took it--slowly--and stared at it for a second in disbelief. Although the street in front of the library is usually an amalgam of car horns, headlights, whining engines throughout the night, nothing--not

The customer of the outdoor café was about to strike the old beggar man who had stumbled into his table, upended his wine goblet and splashed his hands with the crimson liquid. As his arm stirred, his wrist was clasped in an iron grip. Beneath the old man’s cap, the jade green eyes of the man he was expecting to meet sparked their playful grin.

There was a long silence, and then; “Someone knows.” Her voice was as soft and quiet as falling leaves. I stared at her. Know about what? Who? That she ran over a ant while riding her bike? Ughhhhhhhh. “The Necklace. They know about it’s power. I can feel it, Moonstone. And it’s someone who will do anything to take it.” She keep talking. “I can tell what he looks like somehow. He has black and red hair, and a long hoodie with a eclipse on it. He wears long pants and is a thief who’s never failed. Moonstone, we’re in trouble!” She cried. I looked down at my white shoes stained with the red dust.

Replacing his grandfather’s watch with the small plastic case which held his game lenses, Phillip readied himself once more with the hammer in his hand. He then took a deep breath and repeated his countdown. “One, two… three,” he said, and then summed up the courage to shatter one of his favorite possessions. But, once again, the hammer remained, held high above him as if prevented from coming down by some