Sophie's Tragic Figures: A Narrative Fiction

It was a mysterious, windy, dark night. Annabel, a short young girl with jet black hair, eyelashes that reached the sky and eyes like a puppy dog, had just awoken on the floor of a cold dark forest. As she took in her surroundings and wondered how she had got

The decision became clear as the thought of my abolitionist wife spoke in my thoughts. “would you like to be treated like an animal?” the thought spun arou faster and faster untill I had to grab the near by tree to hold myself up,but my hand slpied and I hlanded with a

I heard a feminine voice call out to me as I blazed out the front door. "Good morning Amber! Oh, where are you--" I cut her off with a sharp slam. I couldn't look back. With each step towards my car, I inhale painful sobs of air. I feel as if I don't know who I am, as if I was that 18 year old girl hearing the news of his death for the first time. I couldn't think of the name that belongs to me, or any one else but my father. Any face my subconscious offers had the resonance of a total stranger, then was replaced with the haunting image of

I stayed there hanging with a rope around one of my ankles. Nothing I can do that will get me out. I started shrieking hoping maybe Sophie or another bonobo will hear me. That’s when it appeared. Another bonobo. With an infant on her back just staring up at me from the bushes. She wasn’t making any attempt to help me down so I kept shrieking hoping this time for Sophie. That’s when I heard movement in the bushed other than the bonobo still looking up at me.

Jogging back up the drive, I drew near to the fence gate. With one swift movement, I unlatched the lock and opened the door. The gate creaked and my body froze. Maybe I should go to the red book, the thought trickled into my mind. See if it's still there, or better yet, dispose of it in the trash. For five seconds, I remained motionless then impulsively I rounded the fence and strode down the length of the wooden wall. The trees from the forest pressed near me, casting dark shadows, and for a second, it felt as if they were glaring down from their lofty height. A cool ominous breeze push passed me and my eyes scan wildly when suddenly I stopped. At the place where the red book was was a pile of orange leaves. Bending down, I began rustling my fingers through the foliage, but to my surprise, instead of a book...there was an old worn sweater? It wasn't possible, a red sweater? I had seen the book, or at least, I thought I had. A shiver ran through me. It was happening

In the mountains, Kyle was shivering like crazy. An icy wind blew by him, making his teeth chatter. Myra seemed unaffected, and walked at a normal, only struggled when she hit a hard patch of ice.

Section M, row one, seat 16, floor. Stage to my left hundreds of fans around me. Sophie and I look around anticipation as the lights dim. The screaming starts but I can barely hear it over the pounding of my own heart. Then I hear it blazing in the speakers the opening song is playing and then there they are. Harry, Louis, Liam, and Nile I'll step out on stage. They all seem to glow a little due to the spotlights on them. It's all very surreal. "that's actually them!" I yell at Sofie. I couldn't believe they were actually right there in front of me and then the singing starts. Everyone in the crowd sings along, or at least the ones that aren't crying (me, I was crying). I see fireworks but I can't hear them over everything else going on but

Margot, I apologize for locking you in the closet. I was so mad at you for saying that I was wrong on how I described how I saw the Sun and that the way you remembered seeing the Sun was correct. I didn’t understand why you acted the way you did over the Sun. I am sorry that you didn’t get to see the Sun. It truly was a beautiful site to see. It was as you described. “It’s like a penny," "It’s like a fire,". I thought I remembered what the Sun looked like. I was wrong. When the sun came out I saw the Sun and what it really looked like. Margot, you were right about the Sun and I am sorry for how I treated

The heat was unbearable, but I forced myself to keep going. ‘Left,right,left,right again’, I thought. I ran as if my life depended on it and know that I think about I guess, in a sense it sort of did. Screaming out, I yelled “Sarah, Sophia, Jessica, Anybody?”. “Can you guys hear me, please come out!”, my voice echoed through the halls. I was met with silence. Doors were slammed one after another by the force of my hand. No one in my sight, Smoke was starting to cloud my vision, it grew hotter, coughing uncontrollably I marched on. Praying in my mind I checked the last room. Even in the smoke, the heat, I could make out something in the corner of my eye. I drew closer to the shiny object. Careful steps were made and soon I sighed a sigh of relief. The three girls in question were huddled up in a corner. “Guys….come….here..”,my voice was hoarse ,but they got the message loud and clear. Sophie, the energetic little blonde looked up. “Ray! You’re here!” Hugging them all tightly, I felt at peace hearing their voices and their even breathing, I let go once I reassured that they were safe. With Sophie in my arms, Sarah on my hip and my hand intertwined with Jess’s I turned abruptly Fire engulfed my vision. I felt my heartbeat faster as I stared death in the eye.‘Great, just great’,. My eyes scanned the room in a frantic hurry until the inally laid upon the window. Climbing out, I heard a chorus of fearful shrieks. I myself wanted to shriek, but I couldn’t I

Throughout the story, the painting of Sophie created by Edouard holds a significant value impacting the characters lives. While in Sophie’s possession the portrait held significant value to Sophie while saying “I had brought it down from its hiding place several weeks before, telling my sister, I was damned if the Germans would decide what I should look at in my own home" (Moyes 9). From the fact, that Sophie could've hid food and other resources, instead concealing the painting. She has a profound connection to the painting as it is the last item reminding her of Edouard. Meanwhile, almost a century later, Liv Halston, a widow possesses “The Girl You Left Behind” painting, a wedding gift from her late husband. Even though, Liv’s husband passed

The pace set was much quicker, as if they walked with a mission. Every couple steps that Frisk took they snapped a fallen branch. The resounding crunch never failed to make them flinch and look around wildly. They stopped analyzing the forest for movement and only continuing when there was none. Rays of the sun which once felt warm were now suffocating under the sweater consequently drowning them with their sweat. Frisk continued on despite the many distractions, though their face was pulled tight with worry. They continued as if getting to the top would stop their fear, the quick pace continued to a jog. The trees moving past them in a slow blur. Suddenly they tripped on a thick root, falling with a loud thud. Frisk quickly got up, ignoring the pain in their knees as trickles of blood ran slowly down their legs, giving frisk’s jeans a pink-red

The street concealed itself beneath the dense winter mist, crystals drooped from window ledges. Rats scurried out of broken crates to scavenge off unwanted food. Elisabeth turned her head throwing her oak wood hair to shield her sight from the disgust that lay before her. She found an open area to amuse her solitary colleague and herself. The new found land was presented with plentiful maple leaves that fluttered in the wind not worrying where they would land, swans flew south the escape the winter’s chill. Elisabeth caught her hazel gaze in a puddle frozen in time; large blotches of muck destroyed her rags draped across her shoulders to impersonate a dress. Her colleague barked in her direction waring her of the peril advancing towards her. Muscular arms tore her from the puddle throwing her into the leaves.

It was to late for Margot to see the sun now. As she got lead out of the closet tears ran down her face like Niagra Falls. All she had been waiting for her whole life was to see the sun’s rays sto upon her and she got that one thing taken away. Her tears and sobs silenced the tunnel. However, as much anger as she had inside, her crying took all the possible energy she could’ve used to yell or scream. And standing upon her were the backstabbing, ignorant kids who looked at her as if it was her fault she knew what was coming.

Julia died mid winter when the frost lay heavy on the ground. Long hours of hard work on their small farm had taken its toll and on this bitter July morning, she never opened her eyes.

“What do you mean he’s gone missing?” I was shocked and outraged. “I’m sorry ma’am, but-” “So you are telling me that you lost a wonderful boy like Jerry, under your care!” I practically shouted. Miss Clark was taken aback by my sudden outburst. She was shaking and her