Short Story Of A Story

One evening in late fall a young innocent girl named Mary was walking along the road when she saw a poor defenseless lamb. She started to approach the lamb, and as she got closer… and closer… and closer, mary notices something around the lamb's neck. It was a collar of some sort but did not have a name tag on it. She decided to take it home and put signs up for a missing lamb. When they got back to Mary’s house the lamb noticed that the house was kind of mysterious looking, two gargoyles were placed at each side of the porch along with a statue of a weeping angel.

Suddenly, as I turned to go inside and grab the animals I saw that the movers left the front door wide open. Fear suddenly rose up inside me like a rocket going into the air. I was worried. What If one got out?. The thought of that made me sprint and fast as I

Muffled sounds of shouts and bangs on furniture can be heard in the room at the end of the dimly lit hallway that is lined with bright photos of the same smiling family. A man swings open the door, turned back to a woman cowering away from him and shouted something that was clear in sound, but it didn’t sound like English in Harvey’s head. The man slammed the door, causing one of the frames to come loose from it’s perfectly hammered-in nail and crash on the clean wooden floor.

Last summer Lily and her family took a trip to Wyoming and South Dakota. They went to Yellowstone, Devils Tower, Black Hills and Mt. Rushmore.

I walk through the grass by my tribe land. It’s warm like any other day. I carry my wet furs to the fireside and set them up to dry.

Even before Mary Lennox even arrives at her new home, she finds herself resenting it. But what else could she do? The young girl had never experienced love or excitement. Medlock, trying to pass the time, asks her if she has a favorite story. With her arms folded across her chest, and her face scrunched to show wrinkles, Mary retorts to the Medlock, “My mother didn’t have the time to tell me stories.” The Medlock, she is surprised, but simply shakes her head and remains silent for the rest of the journey. Mary had come from India, where she lived with her neglectful parent until they tragically died in an earthquake. Mary is so emotionally damaged that she said “I was angry. I never cried. I didn’t know how to cry.” When her parents died, rumors spread that she did not show remorse. People called her odd. At the manor, Mary quickly gives herself the reputation of being a spoiled girl, as shown when she commanded Martha to dress her, and then called her unintelligent when Martha was trying to make a joke about Mary’s wardrobe colors, which happened to be black. Mary is upset, but Martha ends up introducing her to her younger brother Dickon, who becomes her first friend. Mary goes outside and finds a garden, and an old man. He asks her why she is here, and she replies and says, “Where’s the door?” Mary wants to find the key to the garden, as she is intrigued by it. The old man(his name is Ben) tells her that, “No one’s been inside that place for ten years,” referencing to the

My sister looks at me with boredom as I walk around. The house was basically empty with only us in the house since my parents were in a “car accident.” I walk upstairs throwing my body onto the bed, letting my eyes begin to get heavy, slowly drifting into sleep... I jolt up putting my hand on my head. It had seemed like somebody had shrieked out loud which made me wake up. I hear it again, a loud, painful shriek from downstairs.

Meril held up a linen napkin. “Chartreuse?” she said, waving it in front of Harriet’s face.

A story about an experience in my life that demonstrated my character or helped to shape it is when I got into a fight with an older kid. The day was a stormy day it was cold I only had a very thin sweater. It was raining and I was just sitting alone in the lunch room minding my own business. When l of a sudden I see a big figure walking towards me and he just took my lunch. I had no reaction because I was just too scared to. I wished my brother was still in the school to help me but he wasn't he was gone he was off to high school I was alone and I had to deal with the situation at hand. I was confused because no one has ever done anything like that. I was angry as soon as I went home I asked my brother what to do he said to fight him. That horror stuck with me through the whole night. I did not want go to school. I was not sure exactly how tall he was even though I knew he was much bigger than me. I did not even know what grade he was. But I did know his name Javier Alfredo.

I sit through the boring lecture about amarras day. Im her echo, a backup. When she dies, I take her place. I'm like a carbon copy of her. Besides the little E tatooed on the back of my neck. Natalie, my “mentor” As scarlett calls her. She's talking away. She loves talking. She calls for a break because she can clearly see how bored I am. I go to our tiny kitchen and grab a snack. I'm not supposed to have a name, but scarlett gave me the name eva, Short for evangeline. When I was younger, I never understood why I had to read whatever amarra wrote or look at the pictures Natalie gives me of her life. By the things that amarra has written to me, She doesn't like and or want me. Shes always have said that I will never have what she has. Shes criticizes me all the time. Calling me a faker, a ghost. I'm glad I never have to meet her.

On February 27, 2011 I was woken up by a bad dream around eight thirty on a chilly Sunday morning. My father was home sheltered away from the sleet and rain and I have no idea where my mother was, she did not work that day, but possibly she was at the store. Everything seemed more dim today, but at least it was my grandma’s and my first sleepover together.This event shaped me into the person I am today because I finally realized that life is not fair and people die, but it does not mean that they are gone. This is about the day my world flipped upside down. The day grandma would really disappear.

Charlotte Diaz sat on her bed and started out the window. Her finger lightly tracing the cascaded rain drops on her window. She sighed and hugged her knees close to her chest. Her tears began to fall and mirror the raindrops outside. Charlotte could still hear the loud shrieks and arguments of her parents taunting her.

My husband ran into our small house in Sonora with this look of excitement that made me wonder what has given my husband such a big smile on his face. I ask him, “Joaquin what is it what is going on?” He told me in that giddy boyish voice that I loved so much, “There is GOLD up in Alta California.” I gave him a confused look thinking “What did that have to with us.” As my confused look stayed and the seconds passed he grabbed my hands and said, “This is our chance to leave Sonora and for me to finally be able to give you a bigger home if I am able to get my hands on some gold.” Still fathomed by the idea I tell him “but our family is here in Sonora.” He laughs and goes on to say that but our dreams can be in California and if anything our family will always be here. I sighed and he jumped knowing full well that I was going to cave and tell him yes. I could never resist when he was like this. My crazy husband had a dream and as his wife it was my job to support him. We packed up some food and water along with some clothes in our little suitcase. I wish I could say we set off with dreams filling our heads and hopes on the horizon, but we had some road blocks before we were able to leave. Eventually we left heading to find my brother-in-law in San Francisco. It being my first time in San Francisco but my husbands second so he began to be amazed in how it had changed from his first visit to San Francisco. He was excited to see what these Americans have transformed the society.

My mother died when I was just 3 years old. I do not remember much of her, other than a glimpse of her face, smiling down at me. My father is a distant man. He has never said more than a few words at a time to me, even during our study sessions. He will assign me a lesson, and simply watch as I complete it. My only confidant is Ms. Matilda, the family maid. She takes the time to listen to me.

Sit back, grab a bowl of popcorn, and get ready for what’s about to happen next. The initials A.S. will stick in my mind for the rest of my life. A.S. was a boy. He was a very important boy as matter of fact, or at least during my junior year of high school I thought he was important. But, to what extent is someone else’s importance greater than your own? Here I will explain to you a story of the boy who stole my self-worth and helped me gain it back. It begins in the end of December of the year 2016. Rumors of a new kid at school rung in my ears like church bells on a sunday morning (I don’t attend church but that’s besides the point). “He’s so hot” “I wonder what grade he’s in” all that fun mumbo jumbo. I’m not going to lie this is not a story of love at first sight because when I saw him, I did not see what all the hype was about. He was tall, so very tall, 6’1 to be exact. His eyes were some sort of a blue green, the kind of blue green that makes you sea sick just by looking at them. He had this stupid long light brown hair that felt like a cloud of everything I ever desired when I ran my fingers through it. I prefer not use his name but so begins the story of “the boy”.