Short Story Jenn Donovan

As a historical figure of my assignment I chose to search on Jenni Rivera. She had a dramatic and tragically life before becoming famous. She went through being poor; living she lived in a garage in long beach, California. She was abused, a victim of domestic violence, humiliated, and cheated on as a women, . Aall because of being a young single mother. Rivera, never settled for less, she pursued her dream as a singer; of traditional Mexican music. She went to bars and night clubs to let her voice and name be known, in California. Due to her effort, strength, never giving up, and family support she became an positive influence to many women .

In this short story “Eleven”, Sandra Cisneros tells a story about a little girl named Rachel,

In the short story, "Eleven," by Sandra Cisnernos, Cisneros describes the birthday of Rachel, an eleven year-old who was humiliated on her birthday. Her teacher, Mrs. Price, claimed that an old sweater belonged to her, when in reality, it was Sylvia Saldivar's who ironically claimed it belonged to Rachel. Rachel was left crying and depressed the rest of the day, when she was commanded to wear it. Cisneros best characterizes Rachel through her well use of her diction,imagery, and repetition.

“Why doesn’t it hurt?” he mumbles to himself, looking down. He doesn’t feel like he’s been shot. The blood confirms that he has, but there’s no pain. The only thing he’s felt at all was a sensation like being punched, when the bullet first went in. And his legs are falling asleep from the strange position he has them in. That’s all.

His head began ringing from the sound, his body tensed up and warm tears began to drop from his face. Soon after, he fell unconsciousness and escaped the sounds that haunted him. He felt something warm brush his hand and a whisper in his ear.” Stay... strong... my darling” and his body suddenly felt calm. The warmness drifted away from his hand and He regained consciousness. He found himself still suffering from the shrieks of the fallen. He eyes opened wide, set up, leaned against his sister’s bed and sighed. He pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his leg waiting for the screams to stop. In that moment, area fell into a loud silence.

“He’s stable. He lost a lot of blood, which is why he lost consciousness. The bullet didn’t cause any major damage and was simple to take out. He’s going to be fine.” Dr. Blake informed. “He’s awake and you may go see him. He’s in room 14.”

“I think i have a several broken bones, how about you guys?” murmured Nicholas, as he moves slowly to see if he can still

One night Chelsea was at home in bed and she had woken up from a dream. Her dream was about her mother being dead and she was hanging on a cross like jesus was. So when she woke she was crying and went looking for her mother. She was walking around the house and she wasn’t in there. So she went outside still crying screaming her mother's name “mother” “mother”.

“Your grandfather didn’t just die Faith, he was murdered. My father put rat poison in his wine that night that our families got together for a dance. I tried so hard to stop him but he locked me up in my room so I couldn’t.” Embry had a shaky voice and a loud cry now. My head swarmed with terrible thoughts that I couldn’t get out of my head. My whole family thought he died of a heart attack. What if my parents really knew the truth and weren’t telling me? Why is Embry going for me and not anybody else? I collapsed to the ground. Lily immediately ran out from the popcorn cart and held me tight. It felt like my world was coming to an end. Embry kept apologizing like it was all her fault.

Amber Riley’s husband had promised that he would come home to her no matter what, so after they reported him dead she began to keep the shotgun next to the front door. The day he returned, ambling, shambling, reeking of decay, the dog barked once in warning and went to hide under the back porch. Amber dried her hands on a dish towel and went to look at her husband through the screen.

It was an unusually hot summer day in July and Julie Chillers was driving down the road about sixty miles an hour listening to her Gospel music when all of a sudden she heard a siren.

“I knew there was poverty in the world, but it was never as real to me as it was then. “ It was then that I realized how much I had.”

Ben screamed again, but the noise was drowned by a hail of gunfire and ricocheting bullets, and then she was in the car. "Drive.'

I’m sorry that I haven’t written sooner, but as you know, my wife, Patsy died on July 21. Her last two months were pure agony. As her primary care giver, I could hardly stand to watch her suffer.

“I- I will be there as soon as I can, thank you for the call.” Becky stuttered.