Short Story On Lanyard Flew Away

Tossing and turning the whole night through, Louise had slept very little, while trying to forget her awful experience with Mr. Cassidy. “How could they declare his house a historical landmark? It doesn’t make any sense,” he whined, remembering how he angry she was when she left him at the garage. Now she had some errands to do before her important luncheon with the new mayor’s wife and she needed to control her emotions. While driving down the street, she was concentrating on how her diamond ring sparkled in the bright sunshine and not on her driving. As she drove by the city park, she never saw the ball bouncing across the grass neither the boy and the dog chasing it until they were already in the street. Looking up, she slammed her brakes,

Fatigue was getting to her. The hot day got dark fast. The sky was turning dark gray. Storm clouds were gathering, fast. Maddy, still flustered, thought she was close to the building. She saw building collapsing and a ginormous crowd of people rushing out. She ran to get a closer look. Maddy’s stomach dropped, that was the hotel she was staying at. What if mom, dad, and the boys went back to the hotel when I left? This is all my fault, they could, they could . . . die. Maddy thought as her eyes filled with tears. Her legs took control and sprinted to the sight of the collapsing hotel.

I saw a shadow at the end, its presence calling for me. I slowly rose up and balanced myself as I stood there, shaking. The wind was cold and continuously brushing through my skin, even though I felt like we were enclosed in a tight room. “Why do you want to get rid of me Ellie? Why???” His voice was sorrowful but at the same time grew so low and deep, like he was speaking from under the ground.

It was a dark starry night in Quetico Provincial park. The perfect time for Francis, a 17 year old girl to sneak away from her annoying little brother. They had been arguing earlier that evening because he went in Francis’ tent without her permission. After the half hour of fighting her little brother had gotten tired and retreated back to his tent. Still frustrated she quietly began walking to the dock being careful not to disturb her family.

Her grandma was there to greet them and were excited to be living so close. Lilly went to her empty room and sat on the ground looking at her phone crying. She was exhausted so they quickly unloaded things, went to sleep and would find a place for everything tomorrow. It was June 5, and it was very hot. Lilly couldn’t help but think what she would be doing with Carly and Kendra if she was with them. She went on a walk through her neighborhood and saw many kids, ages varying from toddlers to high schoolers all outside. She continued walking without saying anything and came across a trail. Lilly thought to herself about how she had nothing better to do then explore a little. She had walked probably walked around a half mile, mostly just seeing the woods. As she was walking she knew she could hear someone, she wasn’t sure what she should do. She heard a voice. She didn’t take another step when she saw an older looking guy not to far behind her. She knew she had seen him before but didn’t know where she recognized him from.. She was scared because she didn’t know the area very well and didn’t know where she was. She stood behind a tree looking at him. The guy was looking at her and he smiled. He began approaching her. At first she started walking in the opposite direction when she heard him say, “Hello, Lilly is that you?”

I continued going but was constantly thinking about what Oliver last said. “The Kissing Post” What did that mean? “Catch up Bella!” Andrew yelled at me. “I’m coming. Stay with me. Tommy you stay with grandmother. Mother watch out for father” I commanded everyone. Telling mother to watch father was the strangest thing I’ve ever said. I never thought my mother would be able to watch out after someone, without going crazy or starting to hyperventilate. But, it actually happened. She is actually not paranoid anymore. I looked back at her and smiled, and she gave me another beautiful smile. I turned back around and I saw a couple of men handing out numbers. They gave us all numbers. “What is this?” I asked the man in a blue suit. “It’s an identification number. I’m glad to talk someone who can speak English. You guys be careful in there. Stay together.” he respectfully replied. He leaned down and gave Andrew and Tommy a lollipop. They opened up the lollipop and ate the lollipop. We walked into a huge building and I could automatically tell that we would be here for a while, and I would be here without my sweet Oliver.

In order to captivate an audience, there must be a relatable basis so the characters and stories can connect to the reader. In The Thing Around Your Neck, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, her short stories encapsulate the immigrant experience and what most people face, but more specifically Nigerian women and the adversities they can face when moving to a new country. To demonstrate these experiences, Adichie creates short stories, to show there’s more than one experience for immigrants in the new world they face. In The Thing Around Your Neck, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, men are represented negatively in order to highlight immigrant women and oppression they face in society.

Suzy then gripped Jonathan’s hand tighter as they walked silently through the swamp. Suzy only heard the footsteps of her and Jonathan now, but she is still curious as to where the other footprints were coming from. After 15 minutes, Suzy heard something rustling in a bush and more footsteps slopping around...louder and louder. She stopped mid step to check her surroundings. She then turned around looking for something...or someone. Jonathan was thinking to himself, “Why won’t Sue give this up, there is nothing in this blasted swamp I come here everyday looking for...Tommy. Maybe

Fall arrives in the city with cool, crisp winds that brush leaves from the ground into the air in a slow churning whirlwind causing them to dance about, descending to the moist ground. A yellow cab is patiently circling the neighborhood in search of fares, which has been a twenty-year practice of Max – a stout, older man with a protruding belly that strains the buttons of his faded, much-wrinkled shirt. He slowly drinks a cup of lukewarm coffee singing “my mama told me you better shop around…” He looks up at the sky at dark, overcast clouds, “Looks like rain today” he says. Max knows the streets of his hometown better than anyone around. He typically works on the east side of the city around the old Elmhurst Cemetery. Most people don’t venture close to the cemetery claiming that they often see a young woman walking through it. They are convinced she is a ghost looking for revenge, but these stories never bother Max nor had he ever seen this ghostly young woman.

She wasn’t sleeping in her bed. She wasn’t rolling in the bathtub. She wasn’t running in the wheel. She wasn’t hiding under the sawdust. She was gone. I panicked when I realized the fact that she’d escaped. But where? At that moment, I heard a soft rustling sound under the refrigerator. “No way.”, I thought. I found a flashlight and I lay down flat on the ground. At first, I couldn’t see anything. But a few minutes later, I finally found her. She was wandering around. She

Standing under the amiable sun, outside the Queens Library, our old meeting place, I  once again checks the time on my phone and clutches my bag anxiously, excited yet the tiny spark of nervousness is undeniable. The lively sidewalks and streets are crowded with people, the busy roads are filled with taxi cabs, metro-buses, and cars going to and from in numerous directions, and the familiar lullaby of the chatters of people and vehicle beeping echos through the city air. Main Street is still the same as I remember it. As I surveys through my surrounding, I caught three familiar faces moving through the masses of people. For a second, I froze, the spark of nervousness gradually turn into a small, burning flame. But then, their searching eyes lands on me and their lips forms into cheerful smiles. Familiar voices calling my name delightfully washes away the flame and a joyful smile made its way up to my lip. Instantly, I run towards my three best friends, Vivian, Noshin, and Angela. We exchanges warm embraces and sweet words of ‘I miss you’ and ‘how have you been’.

“Becca?” You walk in a frantic hurry to the upcoming alley. You see a shadow emerge from the darkness. “Boo!!” You jump and flick your hand up in defense. She laughs to herself gently. “I found you! I was about to go look for you at your house!” Becca shouts. Good thing she didn’t do that though. You would have been caught in your web of lies.

with tears in my eyes I left with my black hoodie, phone, headphones and a screwdriver in back pocket. I peeked into the hallway. I looked to my right. My grandparents’ door was closed as usual. I looked to my left. The light under the bathroom door illuminated the dark hallway. The shadow is large a list names go off in my head. When I hear the shower water go on, I know who exactly is in there. “Jorge.” I whispered to myself. I look a bit further to the left. The pitch black doorway to my parent’s room was darker than usual like a black hole only allowing my father’s loud snores escape. I tipped-toed into the livingroom. I passed by Jorge’s mattress and walked to the front door. I gripped the doorknob and realized the front door could give away my location to my sleeping family with its creakiness. I retreat backwards into the kitchen’s light. I felt the butterflies in my stomach find their way to my throat. I had no idea what I was going to do. I plug in my headphones and played my NiteTimezJamz3 Playlist to help me relax. I quickly braided my hair and stuffed into my hoodie. I quickly but quietly made my way towards the backyard.

It was very seldom that I ventured into town, and consequently having to make such a trek was awfully dreaded. I knew it was inevitable, so I decided not to dwell on the matter and lapped up the remnants of scrambled eggs from my plate with one final scoop, pushed the dirty dishes aside, and stood to my feet. The lids of my eyes began to feel wearily heavy as I suddenly yearned for sleep; perhaps it was due to the emotional whirlwind at such an early hour of the day. I started for the front door and swiped my jacket from the coat rack with my right hand while simultaneously pulling the door open with my left, embracing a slightly cooler breeze as I skipped down the walkway leading from my domain towards town. I took a quick glance in the direction of the house cattycorner to the left side of mine finding Richard Vance hauling a few large boxes, but still no sign of Margaret. I refused to allow my mind to venture down a dark alleyway of uncertainty and paranoia, but I did find it rather peculiar that Margaret had yet to surface the morning after she seemingly feared returning home too late. But, just as I feared, my thoughts of such matters began to overtake my mind, thoughts of potential domestic violence scaring me into physically shaking my head loose of them. I played it off as if a bug of some sort was flying about my face, however I honestly didn’t know if anyone was truly watching. Regardless of the Vance’s personal matters, or lack of, I still thought it was an

She sat on the ledge of her window, looking down at the dark green grass below her. Everything was quiet, except her parents yelling at the top of their lungs. Her blue hair covering her face so you couldn 't see the tears streaming down. This isn’t the first time she has done this. The other times, though, she would have to hold her little brother tight, just like her older brother used to do before he got shot. Times like these, she would stare at the ground, wondering if she should jump or not, wondering if anyone would miss her. “Not right now violet, later,” she whispered, crawling back into her room.