Rose Marie Johnson: A Short Story

Is there anything more exciting than achieving a goal? Or being able to do something great life? With this in mind trying to find a good job in order to support your family. Maybe going out into the world with your dog that also happens to be your best friend just to meet new people and to write a novel. Some people might have different types of goals or more like weird goals, but as long as you have something to chase after in life, something to accomplish in life you’ll be truly amazing in life. Even tho your goal in life might be chasing over someone that you don’t really know. For that reason individuales a driven to undertake a mission because people don’t just make a decision for no reason, or decide to go out into the world for nothing.

Marguerite Johnson was known for many different attributes in her life. She was a poem writer , writer of stories , producer , director , actor and many more different things that gave her the opportunity in life to be as a known legend. Born in St. Louis, Missouri on April 4,1928 to her parents Bailey Johnson and Vivian Baxter Johnson. This was just the beginning on her adventurous lifestyle.

The blazing light was shining in my face and a slight breeze blew through the arched windows. I spotted an open chest in the attic, whilst spring cleaning. The outside rim of the box was covered in dust and cobbled webs; the hinge was rusty, making a creak noise against the ghost-quiet room. Rummaging my hand around the chest there was a scratchy-substance digging against my fingers. As the sun faded from my sight I lifted up the mysterious object. It was an old rustic book; I flipped through the delicate pages, every touch made a crinkling

What does a hero means to me? A hero to me is someone having a great achievements and someone I can look up too. This hero has great influence to me. My hero inspires other students to be someone when they get out of school. My hero is a great role model as a teacher and as a friend. My Vision of a hero is Ms. Tommie Leigh Johnson.

It was on July 22, 1975, I can remember it as vividly as if it was yesterday. I was having lunch with my 2-year-old goddaughter, Tiare, and suddenly a fire broke out in our apartment. We tried to find a way out but the fire escape had already collapsed. I went to the balcony and found a crowd of people, pedestrians, firemen, policemen and even photographers. Everyone was hustling to help us but it was nearly impossible to reach us on the upper floor. Eventually a firefighter came to rescue us. As they were placing a ladder, the balcony suddenly fell. I grabbed the firefighter’s legs as he held onto the ladder. In a glimpse of an eye I found myself mid-air with nothing to do but pray that my daughter would be fine as she we were just inches apart. This is my story, I am Diana Bryant. I’ve heard plenty of conversations about the pictures that were taken of me in this

Marguerite Johnson later known as Maya Angelou was born on April 4th, 1928 in St. Louis, Missouri. Marguerite Johnson was raised in St. Louis, Missouri as well as Stamps, Arkansas. According to her website, Stamps at the time that she was raised, was the frontier of the South During the 1930s and 1940s when Johnson was growing up, Stamps ran rampant with racial discrimination and physical brutality. Marguerite was raised by her grandmother from 4 years old to 8 years old. Johnson came to live with her grandmother after her parents rocky marriage came to an end with a divorce. Her time with her grandmother was seen as a good part of her life but when her father came back into her life, everything that once was fine became bad. After Johnson’s father returned, she was sent to live with her mother. Marguerite’s mother had gotten a new lover named Freeman, while she was gone. Freeman was not a good man due to him sexually and physically abusing her. Johnson stayed silent about the abused but when she finally told someone about the abuse, it backfired on her due to the news spreading. Maya’s mother’s lover ended up getting in trouble for the pain he caused her. After going to trial for the abuse, he went to jail for an extremely short time. Upon being released, Freeman, was murdered. There is speculation that he was murdered by Maya’s uncles.

Tragic experiences don’t always have a tragic effect. They can improve someone’s personality and character, and they can change someone for the better. In I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, Marguerite Johnson is raped, but that helps her discover the art of poetry and confide in it, while in Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer, Chris McCandless’ whole childhood is considered a tragic experience, but that helps him leave everything behind and find real happiness.

I write about the simple beauty I see every day, that others take for granted; such as a frost flower just as it pops out after the first cold harsh frost of winter. Or the sound of the sunshine in the south, (the dulcet tones of a southern woman, greeting her loved ones), and the solutions I formed that helped me overcome trauma and a rare

The author tells her story in riveting truth about functioning through life ridden with dysfunctional relationships, tormented by the affects of addiction and other emotional disorders.

It was a pleasant fall Tuesday when Stephanie went to work. Her day normal consisted of writing reports, and filing paperwork for her office. She turned on the television to see if there was anything alluring in the news. “NEWS FLASH: MAN CONVICTED OF MURDER HAS ESCAPED PRISON.” The warning did not phase her, considering the jail was far from her office. She concluded that she was safe. By four o’clock, it was time for her to travel home from a laborious day of work. She arranged her things into her bag, and began her trek. Walking out the door, she was met with warm rays from the sun. It was an astounding way to end a strenuous

I stood up looking at them both, then looking to my right to see the dead body.

So we are not related by DNA but through marriage. Many years ago I was told by my cousins that Carl was abusive and his family took him back to Austria. He never went back to Austria, because he is in fact in NYC, not far from my grandmother and her new partner Joe Michitsch. In 1930 all the younger children were in orphanages, except the older boys. My mother resided with my grandmother and her father Joe Michitsch. On the 1940 census all the older Mantel boys living with their mother, Anna and my mother.. Carl may have gone back to Austria or died. My two aunts, Rose and Ann Mantel were in an orphanage as well. I am not sure if Ann was a Michitsch or a Mantel, but she was originally born with my grandmother’s maiden name. Interestingly,

Once upon a time there was a museum nestled in the deep forest of Brampton. The museum was filled with paintings of flowers on the wall. In the museum, there was a library. The library was filled with books, which were over one hundred years old.

It was 6:25 AM and I was beginning to wake up. I was on my top bunk of our bunk bed and I said to myself I feel like doing something to get me in trouble. I crawled out of my sheets trying not to hit my head on the ceiling fan. I jumped off the stairs of the bunk bed onto the old wooden floor. On impact I heard my sister say i’m hungry from her little princess bed. My sister Izzy and I walked in to the kitten for a meal. She got a tortilla, cold hotdog, and a dill pickle. I went for a peanut and butter jelly sandwich. After breakfast, I went outside to feed the 4 dogs we had. But be for I did I got my sandals. I opened the back door leading to the fresh morning air. I hoped down from the cement stairs onto the cold moist grass. With every step

I remember the day just like it was yesterday, the pale color and coldness of her skin. The sky was clear blue, soft, with a touch of red, and the trees seemed stiff in their bright green shade. The wind was blowing with its humid dry air. And All I could do was stand silently in disbelief, caught up in my own thoughts and calm as I ever been. Wondering what I could have done differently to change the course of time, life had taken us upon. Since that very day a chunk of my heart was ripped away, and broken into pieces… “Oh how I miss her so much.”