Short Story : The Story Of 'Snowman Shaq'

“No matter who we are, no matter how successful, no matter what our situation, compassion is something we need to receive and give,” author Catherine Pulsifer said. Patricia McKissack wanted to show this theme in her short story, “The Woman in the Snow” by using her character, a black mother named Eula Mae Daniels. In the beginning of the story, a racist bus driver spots her struggling through the snow, holding her sick baby and begging him to give her a ride, even offering him her wedding ring. He refuses and drives off without her because she does not have money to pay for the ride. As the story progresses, she is found dead the next morning and begins to haunt the route, killing the bus driver in a crash, continuing to haunt the route until all drivers refuse to take it. This theme begins to develop when Ray Hammond, the first black metro driver, sees Eula Mae on the route and offers a ride for free instead of denying her one, so she thanked him and gave him a smile before disappearing into the swirling snow. Compassion is always important.

Wilt Chamberlain was a 7’1 gentleman who had a big heart for other things except basketball. He never really had an interest in playing any kind of sports; he’s adopted, so the family he has been with all his life have never really told him that he could be good at anything he does. Wilt never told anyone this until he got in high school but he was always drawing something. Like a flower or a person, the one thing Wilt loved to draw was a Lion. That’s only because the lion is the king of the jungle and everyone knew about the lion but nobody knew about young Wilt Chamberlain.

On a Tuesday night of my sophomore year, two weeks before the state tournament, we played Heritage Hills. On the mound, battling for every out, I attempted to keep the game tied. The count was two and one with two outs in the bottom of the fourth. I stepped up, wound up, and pitched the ball for the fiftieth time. Except this time the ball came flying right back towards me.

"Do you ever see yourself, fantasizing, about snow?" She asked, unaware of the ignorance, that seemed to protrude, across her face. "We live in Texas, obviously." I snickered, as she shot me a look of annoyance, "I know." She began as she rolled her eyes, "To better explain it, have you forgotten the feeling of snow, not your mind, but your body, the feeling of it laying in your hands."

In a small town name Swinkels, however, it's not your ordinary town. Ever wonder how snowflakes were created? here our legend First thing to remember our story starts with this young goddess name Jemma Taryn Forest the god of healing. The young goddess thought a beautiful sunny day in their small town, so she decides to take walk in her father a forest.Meanwhile, when she has been walking in the forest, she noticed something usually its miniature and lustrous, and shape of a heart it’s been somewhere Crystal.

It was just a normal day at basketball practice. You know running through drills, and practicing

As I walked outside of the YMCA I saw kids having fun building forts and having snowball fights. Mom, Dad, and I walked to “Trusty” my Moms Oldsmobile. When we got into the car my Dad asked, “How do you think you did?” “I think I did great,” I replied as I sat there replaying my game as if it were a movie. The car roared to life and we headed home. I sipped on my purple water bottle and gazed out the window. My city looked as if someone had thrown a white fluffy blanket on it. I remember wondering if I was going to have school on Monday.

The two examples, “Porcelain Sky” and “Unity of All Life”, are the mystical experience narratives that certainly piqued my interest. I am able to somewhat inversely relate with the 20-year-old woman's personal origin. Similarly, I did not have such a brilliant childhood, and there were some morbid and intense cases during that period of my life. The talents and interests that I possessed were sometimes overshadowed by recurring negative happenstances; however, I invested myself even more into some of my interests as a system to adapt. From my childhood, I recall my relatives asking me how I saw persons underneath the stairs while they themselves could not see anything. That instance truly startled them. I, however, do not posses this ability anymore, yet my relatives will not let me live that down and remember that night still. I may have chose to deconstruct that particular development because of the potential embarrassment or danger I could

“Oh come on, you can make fun of me for being asian. Peepee with pepsi and

Noelle Wentworth doesn’t mind getting away from St. Augustine to fill in at her ailing aunt’s candle shop. A few weeks in Snowing Rock will help her get past the humiliating memory lapse that ruined an important piano concert—and, ultimately, her marriage to her overbearing duet partner.

Long, long is the trail to Cold Mountain high. Hush, hush, the banks of the brook provide. Chirp, chirp, oft the birds come to utter their cry. Lonely, lonely, souls come not to abide.

Have you ever heard of the largest snowman ever? Well here is a story about the snowman that broke the record.

I jammed my right fist under the long braided rope tied across Snowball’s chest. I squirmed around until seated comfortably, then using my free hand gave a firm slap on Snowball’s rear, the steel gate bashed open. On the edge of explosion, Snowball kicks his back legs sky high, then begins sunfishing into the air (kick all four feet in a rolling motion going completely off the ground) while thrashing and spinning over and over again, never letting up. At last, the bell rings, I made it eight seconds, I hit the ground running after jumping off an aggravated bull in fight or flight mode. I glance at my grandfather grinning, I had done it, I stayed on top, I faced the wild steer and beat the animal. Although the name Snowball sounds harmless,

The story about the snowflakes started with a god named Iris. She was a queen in a big kingdom with her husband named King Jesus. He had the powers of the sun or the heat. Their story started when they were small. Their parents did not want them to get married or have any relation, because both of them are really different, and if they close to each other they could hurt each other. The years were passing, and they were growing, but they did not care about their powers, because what matter is their love. Until they finally got married without telling their parents. Iris and Jesus had their differences, because Iris was a princess, and Jesus was a simple person, but their parents took him with a god so he could survive from a disease that he had when he was small. The god gave him the power of heat, or the sun. Jesus one day he saw the princess, and it was like love in an instant. That's how they know each other. When they got married, they had a baby girl, and her name Adriana.

On a snowy and windy night, I was at Barnes & Noble in Green Bay with my friends, Alan and Karina. Christmas music played overhead, the smell of hot chocolate and freshly brewed coffee wafted over, the customers were kind and cheerful, and snow was beginning to blanket the parking lot outside. We were sitting near the cafe wrapping books to support their mom’s school fundraiser. I stared outside and remembered my mom’s warning of the large snowfall that was almost upon us. Around 7:15, the snowflakes were becoming larger and we could barely see outside the window.