Short Story : My Uncle

In the short story “The Writer in the Family” Jonathan, the narrator is a second generation of the family. He seems to be same his father care people beside him. Therefore, his aunt’s Frances wants Jonathan to use his dead father’s voice to write the letter with the content of the family situation to grandmother know. Consequently, Jonathan who decides to write a letter to lie his grandma is his aunt idea of success and image have affected characters such as Jonathan and Jack, also wants to tell his grandma the critical sense of himself in the last letter.

It was a night like no other, the whole world asleep, and at peace. Little did Gabriel know, this was his last moments to see the world. For tomorrow, he would lose something he always held dear. As Gabriel lies in his bed, not knowing what tomorrow brings, he closes his eyes, and falls fast asleep. In the middle of the night, he hears a sound like no other, a strange ringing. The noise grows louder and louder, and a whisper saying, “Open your eyes.” When Gabriel tried to open his eyes, either his eyes were not cooperating, or its was just too dark; because all he saw was darkness.

The sky and all its beautiful colors are all that were running through my mind. I didn't notice it then, but that was the last day we ever had those moments not only there but back home too. I never expect for him to leave, which was foolish. He found happiness in the bottom of a drink, how couldn't alcohol take him? I realize we're all trying to kill that pain somehow. I didn't imagine his death would take a hold of my life, but in a way it did. You see he was the only close death, I experienced in my 17 years, before him I didn't think death would ever influence me, for it was just a life check everyone check off eventually. I took his death as unexplained for so long, all I had angry and unresolved feelings and they controlled a part of my life. I know that pain will always be there, but my life couldn’t stop, I couldn’t let this unresolved grief influence me as my uncles did. Although death is a sad thing, you have must choose whether to let it destroy oneself or sharpen it. I’m still on the path of understanding how life is after the death, still I remember he loved us and he isn’t sadden anymore, and that gives me joy and keeps on

Let us see, I could say my life was the All American dream, where mom brings lemonade to the kids, while they harass the dog in the front yard, surrounded by a white picket fence. Or it could be that my life was a fairy tale, one that seems good on the outside but on the inside seemed to me a never ending nightmare. I could go on and on about how good of a life I live, or I could say all the horrible things that have happened, but I’d rather just explain what has shaped me into the person I am today, because that is what a home environment does to a person.

We walk back to the shelters to get some sleep, and I sit there awake for a minute until my father falls asleep. In the morning when I awake, my father is very sick, so I take him to the doctor. The doctor rejects to help because he is a surgeon. I take my father back to the shelter to let him rest some more. I leave him to go outside to get more coffee. I think back to all the things me and my father have been through. Losing my mother and sister will always reply through my head, remembering them holding hands and moving off to the left, and my father holding onto my hand, and we walking away from them. The last thing I got to do was just look into there eyes and turn and walk away. Once I got back I found my father not there. I knew where he had gone, they had taken him to the furnace. I dropped to the floor wanting to cry, wanting to have a fit like a normal teenager. Deep into his feelings he thought “Free at last.” He was free to only think about surviving, and not to worry about anyone but himself. I will miss my father. I love him. I will never forget how much he did for me, he is the reason why I am still

Chris yawned as he sat up on his bed. His alarm clock was blaring music. He turned his head and reached over to turn the alarm off. It was six a.m. on September 30, 2017. It was a Saturday morning, and surprisingly Chris enjoyed waking up early today, usually he had a hard time getting up, but today was different. Chris hopped off his bed, running down the stairs. Today, Chris and his family were going to see the Baltimore Orioles play the Philadelphia Phillies at Camden Yards Stadium. Chris has been dreaming for this day. Finally, he could finally get the chance to get an autograph from Alec Asher. He would have a story to tell in the years to come just like Uncle Anthony’s story about Mike Shmidt. Although Chris may have difficulties getting

One summer morning, my Uncle Dudley was in his sugar works clearing rather large trees with a chainsaw when he cut one in just a way that it fell on him by accident. He was pinned beneath the tree for a few hours with his leg snapped apart. Earlier that morning as he headed up the mountain, Dud left his phone in his truck along with the firefighting radio he almost always has for the volunteer fire department. That day my uncle thought he was going to die. Before too much time went by, he decided that he wasn’t going to allow himself to be left like that, and instead allowed the adrenaline to take its toll. Somehow, he found a way to wriggle himself out from underneath the tree, and drag his very broken body down the mountain to his truck so

Technology seems to develop at the speed of time. There is always something new and exciting on the horizon that someone is talking about. The last place that you would think you would have a negative experience with technology is on vacation; trying to enjoy the sun atmosphere of a place other than home. This is exactly what happened to my Uncle Bob; he was stopped for speeding in Florida. He answered the Law Enforcement Officers’ questions calmly and was then placed into the back of his cruiser.

Even after being begged not to move from the tiny apartment to Clybourne Park, an all white part of Chicago, the Youngers decided to move anyway. They decided to take the leap of faith and start a new life in a part of town where they knew they wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms. They knew that they weren’t going to get to their new house and see a gift basket on the front porch. The Youngers had courage though, and they took the chance.

During that time, he was there to offer a listening ear without judgment or callous. Just the fact that for the first time I had someone I could talk to about what was happening, it palliated the pain of the situation. He told me that “even in the darkest depths of the ocean you can still see the light if you take a moment to notice the small things.” Through those dark months, he was my light. He was a friend to be there to hold me when I cried and take the blows when I needed to punch something. Without him I don’t know if I could have made it out of the dark parts of life. He knows just what each situation needs, whether it be a chlorine scented hug or a human punching bag. I sometimes feel as though he can read my mind, he knows me so well. Some people make fun of us because we are such close friends; apparently it is not normal for someone like me to have a friend like him. We are so completely different; it makes the saying “opposites attract” come to

Uncle Henrick was brave but sloppy. Mrs. Rosen was scared of the ocean. Mr. Hirsh was the owner of the button shop. Mr. Rosen was a teacher. The Giraffe was a German soldier with a long neck. Kristi didn’t like green shoes. Cigarettes were a code name for escaping Jews. The Rabbi alerted the Rosen’s of their danger. Great Aunt Bertie was not real. King Christian X was the king of Denmark. Peter and Lisa were engaged in the resistance. Henrick helped the Jews escape. The Resistance was Danish freedom fighters that sunk their own ships so the Nazis couldn’t take over. Sweden was not occupied. The handkerchief had dried rabbits blood and cocaine on it. A Kroner is Danish money. Mama fell and broke her ankle then lied to Annemarie to protect

On December 15 it was a cold night and I just got back from my cousin house. I felt sick that night I had a headache and my nose was really runny and I took a pill when I got in my house and I went to lay down in my room and about 10:30 pm we all went to bed and my sister woke up my sister Gabriella and told her “ Gabriella my water just broke” and my sister woke up and whispered

Grandpa,my brother,and I got in the car and went to the junkyard to get a rim.When we got to the junkyard we were successful at finding the rim.So me and my grandpa went in the back to look at some cars for some spare parts we did not find any but we kept looking we had to be alert and careful for alot of broken glass and sharp object hanging off the car and on the ground.I seen more automatic cars there then i ever seen.

I have an abundance of grotesque, yet, barely visible memories of childhood. However, no breathtaking family trips, no unique family togetherness that taught a moral lesson, no abnormal holidays. We still ate family meals together, but most often the children and adults lived in different worlds. When I needed comforting or wanted the best of both worlds, I could turn to my Grandpa.

Moving to a different place taught me that home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be a person. On a humid day in the Philippines at my great grandma’s house, I had just finished watching my favorite TV show, Tom and Jerry, sitting on the couch with my feet raised up on a stool. My great grandma called me in to eat dinner amid watching my show. She also called my younger brother, Kurt, who was playing with his Beyblade toys on the floor. I told my brother to clean up his beyblades that were scattered throughout the floor before he could go eat dinner. After he finished cleaning, we both walked to the dining room, pulled each of our seats out, and sat on them waiting for our food. It was only my younger brother, my great grandma, and I. During that time I realized something was missing: my mother.