Stanley's Room: A Narrative Fiction

Unknown and inexistent to the eyes of the middle and upper class, the deplorable conditions that the poor had been living in remained prevalent throughout the streets of New York City. Unsanitary and overcrowded tenements, massive numbers of children left out on the streets, brothels, and gambling dens (Oxford University Press 640) were just a few of the inhumane and dire aspects of New York City’s underworld that were in need of reform. After the start of the Civil War, New York city received great amounts of African Americans from the South. With the hopes of freedom and equal opportunities for all races in the North, many African Americans jumped at the opportunity to come to cities like New York, but when their expectations came face-to-face with reality, their dreams no longer ceased to exist. When it

One sunny day on the busy streets of Chicago, a homeless man walked down the sidewalks scowling at nearby street peddlers. He went by the name of Richard Walker, better known as Rich, which was very ironic. He walked down the sidewalks through different people, catching sections of their conversation. “Look at Rich! Don’t give that old homeless man any money!” Although Rich was well used to it, didn’t mean he took it lightly at all.

Hauntings of The Stanley Hotel The Stanley Hotel is the most haunted place in America. Also The Shining was based on The Stanley Hotel which was made by Stephen King. What were the hauntings in The Stanley Hotel one might ask. The Stanley Hotel is located in Colorado and Freelan Oscar Stanley is the owner of The Stanley Hotel. He passed away in 1940, ever since they all have died him and his family haunt the hotel.

An opportunity arose to visit the city of my dreams. My school’s basketball team was participating in a tournament at Yeshiva University, and my friend Zach had an apartment that we could stay in nearby in Washington Heights. My parents were skeptical at first, because they were concerned with the safety of Washington Heights. I eventually persuaded them to let me stay with Zach, when my uncle Rich volunteered to backstop my trip. I began to contact my uncle Rich who lives in the Upper East Side of New York, to see if he had any advice on what to do while in New York. He worked together with me to brainstorm ideas of how to maximize my trip. I tried to get Zach involved with the planning but he became overwhelmed, and preferred to live by the play it by ear mentality. After a few weeks of planning with Rich, it came time to board the plane in West Palm Beach. Zach and I sat next to a girl who was a native New Yorker. I asked her “what do you do for fun in New York.” She responded by saying “ the best part of New York is getting lost.” I thought that she had an interesting response, but I didn’t plan on getting lost.

There’s me, standing on the sidewalk of some nondescript city street in the Bronx. It’s summertime, right smack in the middle of July, and the towering brick buildings surrounding me allow no breeze. The clamor of New York is encompassing; I feel the city’s rhythm in my bones, it’s heartbeat thump, thump, thumping under my feet. Right now, I feel like crying. I am talking to an old man, Ahmed. Ahmed is an Indian immigrant who stopped at the soup-kitchen-on-wheels (actually: The Relief Bus) I am volunteering at. We stand under a tree planted close to where the Bus is parked. Around us, dozens of homeless people, many of whom don’t speak a word of English (as the Bronx is mainly poor immigrants), eat their soup and bread. My fellow volunteers

At about 4:00 a.m., a ship boarded a small port in California. It took three hours to unload the pretty light cargo. There were six crewmen who helped unload. One of them, a big heavy man named Bob used his knife to cut the boxes open and out popped about 800 kittens. The crew went ahh and ooh at the little furballs. Bob put two kittens in a box to take home for his two daughters.

If yasu was any other resident of the building, he was sure that sera would had already burn them to a crisp and consumed by her fury. He paused as her growling became more louder and dangerous. Yasu snorted cockily as he ignored Sera warning. Perhaps a different day and time, but Yasu will have to accept whatever punishment Sera decide for waking her up. A crime he knew would leave him with new scars and probably more burns then before.

“Craig, You dick! Hurry your ass up!” Ruby Tucker bellowed into her brother’s room. She had been ready for the last two hours, as she had been every morning since she’d started the seventh grade. Craig, on the other hand, was a lazy little cat who preferred nothing more than sleeping in, especially on school days.

We continued down the early morning streets of New York, the sun barely peeking over the towering concrete and stone giants surrounding us. Not many people were out at this time of day, and it felt as though there were even less with all the newsies absent from their usual corners. Albert had started to slow down as we got closer to the Lodging House. It was quiet, as if a strange spirit had taken over now that all the rambunctious and rowdy young boys were out causing trouble elsewhere. Even from farther away, you could still hear faint shouts in the distance rising up from the aforementioned ragamuffins. When one particularly loud uproar rose into the air, Albert yanked me up the stairs, my

Dan felt an odd kind of clarity when he found himself in the sanctity of his old nightmare. At least there he felt normal. Pale walls, like grim and grinning teeth, greeted him as an old friend while flowers brought his mortality into perspective.

New York, New York. The big city, the bright lights, the ill and starving homeless people you shy away at when they plead for change. Well, at least that’s how Allana Black saw it. With being kicked out by her parents for financial reasons and having nobody to attend to her, she went through a depression of homelessness, petty crime and taking things that don’t belong to her to survive. After she got her hands on some money and bought a lottery ticket, Allana struck big, winning the prize and now seeks fortune in the Big Apple, hoping to contour her destined lifestyle. She just rented the most expensive high-rise in Manhattan. With living the dream she always hoped for, now all she can care for is herself. Not the people outside her residence

“It’s the D-O-double G,”the secret serviceman replies as Snoop Dogg walks into the office of the White house.

From the time I could take my first step to my big 18, my family's financial status hasn’t been all that great. Stemming from that we did what we always had to and that was to survive off the bare minimum. Coming off a household of barely above a combined net worth of thirty-thousand dollars we didn’t have all the fancies of life like others. Coming off of Cedar Street just North of the poverty stricken Fulton Projects, I knew I could’ve had it off worse than what I did. That neighborhood changes people, and by that, I will never be as credulous of the system surrounding me.

In a bedroom, a girl lies still on her bed. She is clothed in her pajamas and a robe as if she didn 't quite finish getting ready for bed. She is rolled over on her side, her arms and legs bound with rope and her eyes staring blankly at the pink wall in front of her that is now speckled with blood. Her blood. There is a hole in the back of her head where a bullet pierced through her skull. In another room, a woman has her hands and feet bound tightly with rope. She is also dressed in her pajamas, but she has adhesive tape wrapped around her mouth. Her dead eyes look horrified as if they are staring at the killer who took her life away. She has a bullet wound on the side of her head. In the basement, a boy is found lying on a couch. He is gagged and bound like the woman upstairs. His head is propped up by pillows and a ghastly hole decorates the middle of his forehead where a bullet embedded itself in his skull. In the furnace room, a man is found lying on top of a mattress box. He is bound and gagged like two of the previous victims. However, his is the most gruesome murder--the most macabre murder. He did have a gunshot wound on the front of his head, but he was probably already dead (or at least dying) when that deadly injury was inflicted. That is because his throat was slit. These four cold-blooded murders are the reason Truman Capote wrote the book, In Cold Blood. The Clutters were the perfect, nuclear family. The family consisted of Herbert (the father), Bonnie (the

The young man was nervous. He had to get the money to buy his sister back from the people who took her. He had already tried to just grab her from them, the way they had grabbed her from him, but it hadn 't worked. He still had bruises from that encounter, and they assured him they would give her up as long as he came up with the $5000 price they had set. Five thousand dollars might as well be a million to him. He 'd never had enough to even warrant the bank account he 'd opened with his first pay check. His paltry checks barely covered his rent and food for him and his sister. What little he had left, his mother stole to cover her drug habit. She had been the one who told them where to find his sister. She said they 'd forced her, but he knew it was probably for drugs. That 's all that had