Whitney White: A Fictional Narrative

The anger flowed through her veins and killed her mind as if it was a deadly toxin to her spirit. Her eyes which were once full of innocence and happiness were now full of fire and would kill anybody in their path. Just by looking into her burning stare would slash you into tiny, bloody pieces. No one that knew her would be able to recognise her, as the girl they once knew was gone, and it was all because of him; the vicious, cold-blooded

Smith waiting frantically, “Gosh Isiah you scared me, you’re lucky I covered for you guys”

Carly was more nervous than she the first time she came back, she started shaking. Detective Jones saw and asked her if she was alright Carly told him she was fine and continued walking. She felt like she did the night of the murder, her stomach was flipping, she felt like someone was watching her but she didn’t say anything with the fear of having to leave. She heard leaves crunching, the noise became louder and faster she whipped her head around with the fear that the murderer was after her, but it was only a cat. She started breathing heavily, she had to sit down. Detective Jones ran over and told her to breathe slowly while he ran to get water from the car. Carly drank the water and sat and watched Detective Jones investigate. One hour later they decided they had found enough clues so they headed

As she held the pot and turned it in her hands she could see that it was in near perfect

She’d been taunting her husband, their whole relationship because she didn’t really love him, and she cheated on with Tom and still had Tom coming to the garage. Before the end of her journey, her neighbor Michaelis heard her yell at her husband saying, “Beat me!” he heard her cry. “Throw me down and beat me, you dirty little coward.” She yelled this possibly because her husband had her locked up inside their garage. She’d been shouting at and running away from her husband when she’d been struck by a car.

“These questions are useless. If a question prompts you to ask the obvious, then it is not a true question. You should be ashamed of yourself for asking this question. Don’t ever ask questions like this.” She ended firmly.

“well hello sweetheart, what are you doing here?” she said peering down at me in a nasally voice.

Unable to think clearly, Lelia’s thoughts skipped illogically around her head. In that irrational state of mind a split-second decision flashed through her head. No more chores, no more care of the children, and no more pretending life was okay so that Owen wouldn’t drink so much. No. Today she would simply leave it all, the children, Owen, and the farm.

Her whole world was crashing down. It what seemed like only a split second, her best friend’s father had been condemned to death. Someone who she considered to be like a father was going to be taken away, ripped away from her.

I might be white, but I can guaranty you, during my childhood, my family did not fit into the category, of the so called ‘privileged white’. The socioeconomic ladder classified us as ‘poor white trash’, because we were migrant workers that labored in the groves in Florida and the fields and orchards in Michigan. Education, needless to say, was low on the totem pole; therefore at the age of sixteen I dropped out of school. However, when I was twenty-seven a dear friend Mary Updike, who at the time was attending Bryn Mawr College, told me I was wasting my life and should go to college and enhance my common sense with a well rounded education. So I did. And in the eighties – I graduated with a B.A. in History followed with a M.A. in Diplomatic

Narcissa grew up in a devoted Presbyterian family, in a village of Prattsburg, New York. Narcissa was an enthusiastic and highly influenced young woman, reading popular biographies of American missionaries in the 19th century. Influenced by Harriet Newell, an evangelist who traveled and worked in India, Narcissa was captivated by Harriet’s spiritual struggles, letters and sermons. As a young teenager, she felt life was slipping away, time was wasted, as she was ready to adventure out and start ministering the word of God.

This moment shows the difficult choices black women faced: to support their children, they often couldn’t spend as much time with them as they wanted. This is cruel and tragic.

While reading this week’s reading, I felt a connection with Desiree White. For instance, the first thing she mentions is, “…of course you would notice if someone had different skin color than you did, but to be honest, I didn’t ever think about it. Everyone was the same to me when I was a kid” (White, 2013, pg. 33). I can relate to this because I remember feeling the same way when I was a kid. Even till this day, I still feel this way. I am just more aware of everyone and their unique characteristics. I know for a fact that my identity has a lot to do with my parents and how they shaped me to be. In terms of race/ethnicity, it wasn’t really their choice. I identify as White/Hispanic. Additionally, if we are just talking about me I am currently

Every minute that passed by, she got more and more upset. Charlotte didn’t want to keep bugging her, but she wanted to help her. Charlotte and Taylor had been very close friends since Charlotte was born. Taylor would always come over to her house and they would play games together. Both of them enjoyed it a lot, but for the past couple months, Taylor had been very stressed and nervous about her Homecoming, because she was nominated for Homecoming queen, and she was behind by a lot of votes. That is why she had been upset all the time. The more she checked, the more anxious she got because she was losing all of the votes. She was also reading all of the bad comments people had sent to

Whitney lived with her parents until the day they said their last breath.That day was very heartbreaking day for Whitney. She was sad but with her grandmother's support she was able to be strong and then let go of what happened to her parents.Whitney started singing and pursing singing as her career. She found a producer and a mentor who always told her to embrace and care for her voice.