Stereotypes: A Narrative Fiction

The danger of a single story is that they let the powerful downgrade the weaker because they create stereotypes, they can hurt the people, and no one gets represented from the culture.

Although I should have been shocked to find another person in the churchyard, her presence was soothing. The little light that escaped the snares of the clouds shown on the woman’s milky skin, making it looks nearly transparent. Thin wispy blonde hair cascaded down the woman’s back and framed her face like a halo. Her eyes were the same darkening gray color as the silent fog. She stared at me expectantly but without urgency. A slight frown graced her lips while she regarded me. I finally took a step towards the woman. “I guess I don’t know anymore. I honestly didn’t know it was my

But, as she sits there in the breath taking silence, “a slow arousal” (line 22) begins to bubble up from within. Her mind drifts to changes in her body. She is no longer a child, she is a woman. She thinks to herself “the small buttons of my cotton blouse are pulling away from my body. I feel the strain of threads, the swollen magnolias heavy as a flock of birds in the tree” (lines 22 - 29). She’s beginning to experience the results of changing hormones. “Already, the orange sponge cake is rising in the oven.” (line 30) She is pregnant!

An idea was tracing through the back of her mind, and so she thought to try and best and quickly she could manifest how she felt. Several minutes minutes of failure of preforming such mental acrobatics propelled Katie towards the decisive choice of going to her closet. As she opened the mirror door, Katie gazed into her own ocean green eyes, and revealing a bounty of tired clothing nobody really wore. Her slender arm reached a slender hand to grasp an engraved brown leather booklet.

My knees shivered as I walked up the huge steps onto the bus. Millions of things were running through my mind; I was nervous. There was a loud chatter throughout the bus, but it wasn’t normal chatter. Everyone was on a light edge as we were all more than aware about what we were about to face. The bus pulled up into a familiar area. Elsternwick was busy and the sun was bright. I personally am always in Elsternwick and I never knew the museum was

"So, where are we?" I fell to the ground, annoyed. "You said that without knowing where we were going?!" Madam Red yelled, saying exactly what I was thinking. Ciel explained to us what this place was, but I didn't really listen. None of us made a move to go inside. "Well.." I murmured, opening the door. Inside was spooky and creepy. Webs everywhere, centipedes crawling on the roof, it was certainly a creepy place. I leaned against something I couldn't make out,

Bella creaked the door open. Inside there was what looked like a library...but with empty shelves, all except one, On the one shelf, the one book, was glimmering mysteriously. She walked toward the book and picked it up. As soon as she did, she heard a whisper.

Her bedroom was drabby and dark. Over to the right, a bookshelf, with stories she’s read a million time, and over to the left, her dresser. With more books. Books were her fantasyland, her escape from reality. Worlds she could travel to whenever she wanted, and leave whenever she felt like it. Which was never, really, but all stories come to an end and you must leave no matter what.

My lungs filled with oxygen as I drew in a deep breath. I gently closed the book in front of me as my eyes slowly refocused on my surroundings. I felt like I had been drowning for hours and could just now come up for air. Except I didn’t want to. The water that had confined me flowed from a completely different world which I had no desire to leave. I could imagine myself as a part of that world’s adventures and playing a role in the story’s unfolding. A connection had formed between me and the characters, as if I had stood with them and their experiences had become my own. In the moments while I read, nothing had the ability to distract me from their struggles and their triumphs. In chunks their world consumed my time, my emotion, and my thinking.

Something was insistently nagging at the edge of her consciousness, a fluttering deep in her belly. There was something she had forgotten, something she had to do… like a flash of lightning realization struck

“Read it all, it all makes sense,” I affirmed. I passed the book to Sherri and stood next to her, picking off my pink, pastel nail polish. All of a sudden, Sherri dropped the book and turned to me.

The digital clock that hung on the wall adjacent to her read that it was nearing six in the morning; she had gotten through the night without being paged back to work. A low groan escaped Lauren's barely parted lips and she rubbed her eyes, trying to clear them of their hazy vision. Her mind was a foggy mess of an open field with towering weeds that swayed back and forth to a violent wind while she stood, unable to transcend to the other side, isolated and wailing. She was drowning in that uncanny state of consciousness—not quite awake yet not quite asleep—and her thoughts were laxly rising from the depths of an infinite

you in to her text. There's certain areas in the book that seem to flash a light bulb above your head, and

Finally, as I closed the flimsy paperback cover of the book and setting it on my lap, I tentatively opened the front cover again and peeked at the number. My heart clenched and I banged my hands against the book in frustration, grabbing my phone from behind me. Before I could lose my nerve I keyed in the number and held the phone to my ear. “Hello?” a voice that even sleepiness couldn’t make sound bad asked. My mind went blank. “Hello?” the voice repeated, becoming more awake with every second. My breathing quickened and before I could stop myself I suddenly said, “Uhm, Hi it’s that girl from the Whole Foods, uhm thank you for the book I uhm...I liked it.” My eyes squeezed shut and I cursed myself for sounding so little and helpless. “Well I’m glad. What was the best part?” the sounds of blankets whispering against each other and I shifted myself, throwing my legs over the side of my armchair and tilting my head back, grabbing a piece of my hair and twirling it around my finger. “Well, I know he’s a really important character to Lyra, but Malachi is simply not right for her! He’s so..rough and condescending and I just can’t stand him!” I continued on for a while, not realizing I was ranting until I glanced at the clock on my counter and realized the it was two in the morning. My

"Thank you," Elina said, taking the book from him. She walked north, to the other side of the library. She walked to a mahogany table, away from other forms of life but her. She sat down on a chair, seeing the sunlight shone through the dusty window behind her. She placed the book on the table, examining the cover. As she read the description on the back, her thoughts finally hunted her down. Watching two children playing from the window, to her, they seemed to have a playful time. "It'll be nice to actually have an adventure for once, but that's what books are for." As she opened the book, it started to glow. Suddenly, everything went dark. Lights mysteriously turned off, window blinds are shut tight, allowing little light to pass. The thud of the book is heard, no longer feeling the table."Mr. Maplewood, I can't see anything!" But when she shouted, the only sound she hears is her voice and her heart beating. She walked around a bit to search for shelves, but nothing seemed to be there, just emptiness. Neither she could feel the chair she just sat for a few seconds ago or her yellow backpack she just placed it on. The book is the only thing