Rudy: A Short Story

Lansing’s house a year earlier. They used to live in a beige house with burgundy trimming, on the left-hand corner of Elm and Garfield. There was somber news that occurred in October of 2013, we found out that he has Lung Cancer but it was on the edge of stage one and going into stage two. Mr. Larson was the almost like uncle to me and always has been kind enough to invite my brother and me over to allow us to play video games, play cards and he did not mind watching us for a few hours until my mother finished fixing dinner. My parents considered him as a very close family friend. Whenever Julia came over for a visit during that time, she would sit down gracefully into the wooden chair before us, while chatting with us over a cup of hot chocolate. She explains that Carter, her husband, would frequently bellow over throwing up constantly and sometimes it would be tinged with blood and then pass out for a couple hours, “I ask his to take his medicine but he will not do it and say he does not need the medicine.” She says in her very concerned tone but her body language read differently, her facial expression and her eye read that she is calm and as if she really has nothing to worry about. Wow, this woman does not even care about her husband, what gives? Julia kept the same story going that he refuses to take his medicine and all, as a result that his cancer has reached stage four by April 2014 and he looks so grim, gravely and very lethargic. His face has sunken in, you can nearly see his bones and he looks like Skeletor from He-Man and he could barely move without assistance and his walker. A couple weeks before he passed away, Julia took him with her to North Carolina, visit another man’s family. The man I speak of is called Eugene, and he just lives off of other women’s money, he cannot keep a job or care to have one. What I heard from other visitors of her house is that while

Rudy as a young american boy had great dream’s in sports especially in Football. He wanted to be involved in this sport, but everyone around him said that he couldn’t. Now as a young man in college he is out to get everyone who tried to prove him wrong. Now he will prove them wrong now. Why did Rudy make these goals? Who did Rudy ask for help and advies? how did Rudy achieve these goals? What could have Rudy done different? These are the main questions that will be answer as you read. Rudys story is about goal setting and and rebounding from failure.

    I’m driving to camp with William Fulton and our moms when we turn onto Camp Wakeshma Rd. and go under the huge sign reading the name. We arrive late to camp due to a baseball tournament, but we check in and put our belongings in the cabin. William and I say our goodbyes and go find the rest of our cabin. Afterwards we line up for dinner by the flagpole. Nobody could help but realize one of our cabin mates lost an arm due to cancer. At night when we get ready for bed I see him change his shirt revealing his scars. As I go to bed, I don't think much of it.

he AIDS hospice reeked from disease and neglect. On my first day there, after an hour of "training," I met Paul, a tall, emaciated, forty-year-old AIDS victim who was recovering from a stroke that had severely affected his speech. I took him to General Hospital for a long-overdue appointment. It had been weeks since he had been outside. After waiting for two and a half hours, he was called in and then needed to wait another two hours for his prescription. Hungry, I suggested we go and get some lunch. At first Paul resisted; he didn’t want to accept the lunch offer. Estranged from his family and seemingly ignored by his friends, he wasn’t used to anyone being kind to him — even though I was only talking about a Big Mac. When it arrived, Paul took his first bite. Suddenly, his face lit up with the biggest, most radiant smile. He was on top of the world because somebody bought him a hamburger. Amazing. So little bought so much. While elated that I had literally made Paul’s day, the neglect and emotional isolation from which he suffered disgusted me. This was a harsh side of medicine I had not seen before. Right then and there, I wondered, "Do I really want to go into medicine?"

Page said so I looked for my mom but could not find her so I turned on the TV to the news channel and it said something like this “ Breaking news, wail North korea was building chemical missiles one activated prematurely and blow up. All the factory workers within the radios of the explosion have been infected with this new chemical that was said to be some form of rabies. North korea has been asking for help from other countries, we don’t know what they're asking help for but was surprising to her so. Our research …”then i turned the TV off “That’s terrible” I said aloud even though there was no one home.But that still didn’t make sense why we had to go home . Then the phone rang and made me jump, so i walked over to the phone and said “hello?” “hey will this is chester”Said chester “have your parents told you about the bombing?”. “No” I said ”but i watched the news and why did you dad excuse school if the tragedy happened on a different continent?”. “Well… you know how my uncle lives in korea well he called my dad and said that there's like this crazy disease there thats makes people crazy and enraged, he also said that it's contagious and it would only be a matter of time before he got this disease”. “Woah that s crazy” I said “I was wondering if you could to come to the caben with me and my family a little earlier than we thought?”Said chester “but it’s still the school year!”I said. “My dad has canceled school for the rest

ripped out of its cuticle were minor concerns she reminded herself to block out the distraction of pain in what she knew to be the battle for her soul she already felt she was losing.

Lifting your head up from a nap from the cold wood-finished desk, trying to overcome the haziness from your eyes as you look at your teacher, turning your head to the right your friend is taking a colorful page of ocean-blue, rosie-cheek-pink, lime-green, purple heart majesty colored notes and you wonder why you are doing the same. You suddenly hear loud thuds coming up the metal-rusted ramp outside leading to the door. The door swings open with a powerful “swoosh” and an eerie creek from the rusted bolts follow. A gun walks in, following a middle-aged white man who has a distorted look in his eyes.

Twenty-one years old my middle brother began to drink constantly on a regular basis. Problems back home had influenced him in drinking, but also the people he correlated himself with back then. He took quite some time to overcome his addiction, but during his intoxicated moments he resembled that of Victor’s family. One night during my brother’s intoxication my brother had come down to our house to get away. When my brother rang the doorbell, I quickly rushed towards the door, opening it to find my brother’s eyes bloodshot red. Walking in face forwards he slowly took what felt like one hundred paces to our red couch, which already contained a few broken springs on the left cushion. Once reaching the target he plopped down like a heavy book

As a little boy, I’d sworn never to be like him. But in war, nothing is the same and one’s priorities get shuffled. Alcohol never passed my lips; it’s true. All the same, now I lie here dying, muttering the same phrase and wishing to forget. Too bad I couldn’t tell my father—he might have been proud I’d finally given up. He may have even offered me a shot, which—who knows?—I may have even accepted! Look who I’d become. Well I was in for it now, so I might as well say that bitter, repulsive phrase again: Perhaps it was better this way—better I remain a broken nameless soldier, my story told, but my self

I was walking down the hallway when I heard my mom scream, that’s when they burst through the windows and doors. The soldiers, the government. We were told about them, warned even. My mom was afraid they were going to take me, I was an amazing baseball player and if I say so myself pretty gorgeous. I know I sound full of myself but they were screening me for all of this, mom knew that. She knew the country was going to be split up into two parts the modified or the gifted and the average. My mom screamed “Mars run!” Then to the soldiers “Please don’t take my baby from me.” I wasn't a baby anymore, I was in high school. I went to my room and curled up in a ball in the corner, I knew they were going to get in. I sat there and cried, I cried for my mom and my dad. I heard my sister scream, her room was next to mine. I heard a gunshot and then another. No more eye piercing screaming. Just silence. That’s when my door busted open and the soldier grabbed me, I was kicking and screaming. He walked past my sister’s room, I looked in there, my sister she was died. Her lifeless corpse lies on the floor, her final resting place. My mom was in the hallway in between the two bedrooms, her to she was gone. And my brothers room across the hall, untouched. These were the last memories of my home, I

“I don’t feel so well” Jan’s father had suddenly said one morning at breakfast. Her father, a World War II veteran, stood up and went to go lie down. The rest of the family continued with their day. Michael went to see how his father was. When he tried to wake him his father didn’t respond or make a sound. The 11 year old boy was the one who first knew that his father was gone. The memory of her father’s loss is vivid in Jan’s mind. It was a substantial shock after he had survived the horrors of World War II and then just passed away quietly at home one morning. Jan now understands how

Upon arrival, the Veteran described a gruesome and horrifying scene of bodies floating in the water among the debris of the wreckage. The men on the rescue ship immediately set out to rescue the remaining survivors at the scene. The Veteran described having a long rope or strap tied round his waist and his shipmates repeatedly lowering him over the side of the ship throughout the night in order to locate survivors among the debris and floating corpses. The Veteran reported that he and his shipmates repeated this process person by person and hour after hour until the rescues were, completed. The Veteran reported this as being not only physically demanding work, but mentally taxing as well. As the Veteran shared his story, I could not help but notice his frail, elderly wife sitting in a chair beside him. She beamed with pride as he recounted the events of that night and clung to his arm ever so tightly. At that moment, I realized that she beheld him as that young, handsome man that she had married decades earlier, and I could almost see her eyes erase the years and feebleness that had taken a toll upon his body.

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My heels clicked on the worn down black pavement as I walked across the club parking lot. The warm Miami wind hit my bare arms, the sun was just starting to set meaning in a matter of time it would be dark and the only thing that would be lighting the streets was the street lights and the open signs of bars which would have people in and out at the hour. My heels finally came to a stop when I stopped in front of a tall security guy wearing all black with his hands folded in front of him and wearing a pair of black sunglasses that looked like a 10 year old would wear.

My sister, dad, and I get on a plane and head to a town in Colorado called Steamboat. On the plane ride from St. Louis to Colorado, I look out the window to see a mass of mountains become closer and closer. The plane ride was short and easy. We head out of the airport and to a rental car dealership. As we walk out, we pass sparkling Christmas trees, and menorahs placed all around the crowded airport. We wait for a bus to pick us up and take us to the rental dealership. Around the corner I see an enormous green bus make a wide turn to meet my family and others. We get on and the young bus driver gets up from his seat to take my suitcase and put on a shelf with many others. We sit down and the bus begins to move away from the airport, a small baby wrapped in a blue and yellow quilt could not stop wailing. Before I knew it, I 'm stepping off the bus and into a plowed off section of a parking lot. A man greets my dad with a handshake and asks, “This is the McCarthy family right?” We all nod in response. “Right this way”, the man says as we follow him down the long rows of shiny rental cars that glisten from the snow. He shows us a gray pick-up truck that will be easy to get up the mountains in. He talks to my dad about the policies as I hop in the car. I get myself situated before the three hour car