Why I Never Underestimate The Power Of A Five Year Old Short Story

In our lives, everyone we come across has a story to tell. Jason Silva, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Maxine Green have that vision in mind. Jason Silva voices his opinion in “The Power of a Story”, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie talks about “The Danger of a Single Story”. Maxine Greene writes about the significance in recognizing different stories. All three of them identified the importance of respecting each and every one.

    To compose an extremely marvelous narrative in fifth grade involves a lot of effort. I have encountered it and I want to give you three crucial recommendations to write a compelling and memorable story.

A coast guard boat rescues them out of the bay one they returned to the surface. Annabeth and Percy both understand what has happened but Grover still isn't catching on. They explain to Grover that Ares stole both, the master bolt and helm of darkness, purposely trying to frame Percy. They notice Ares is waiting for them at the shore on his motorcycle. But when they accuse him of what he had done, he claims to not have stolen the bolt personally, not telling them who did. Ares then waves Hades's helm in their faces and bragging about it. Percy assumes that the being in the abyss told Ares to steal it, but Ares says that isn't true, he seems very nervous though. Ares tells Percy he has to kill him and prevent him from taking Zeus's bolt

As soon as we arrived home from a basketball award ceremony, my parents, with solemn faces, told me, my sister Bekah, and my brother Ben to come out to the family room for a meeting. With sweaty palms and nervous glances from one to the other, we cautiously sat on the couch to await our unknown ‘’punishments’’. Once we were all gathered however, my parents’ solemn faces transformed into beaming joy as they excitedly delivered the news that we were going to have another sibling. The room erupted with screams of giddiness, which were probably due to the sugar overload, the fact we realized we weren’t actually in trouble,

Standing on the turf which has been my home for the last two weeks. I am now wondering what the results of all of my hard work would be, after working as hard as a worker bee. My coach has bright pink hair and is a little bit out there, she could make anything happen, just because she wants to. Soccer is not my main sport, so being on varsity would be a stretch. I am exhausted from the hard this week, I feel like I am going to collapse. The swelling on my calves is a big egg, I am ready for the answer to hit me like a train.

Ruby tuned him out, opting instead to close her eyes and feel the wind on her face. A westward wind, she decided, opening her eyes again as the first trainee, far to her left, was launched. I’ll have to angle slightly eastward if I want to stay with the group, given how light I am. On the other hand, if I stay to the outskirts, I might be able to find a good partner without being spotted…

“Mommy, where are we going?” I asked. “Somewhere safe baby, but we have to hurry. We have to meet Ava so we can get your sister.” Exclaimed my mom. I remember that day vividly. My mom was frantic. I examined her as she shuffled through my dads’ dresser in a panic. She scoured through pictures, clothing and jewelry. Next, she maneuvered towards the closet where the safe was located. Noticing me gawking at her, she shut the door and in a brief moment emerged with a dark blue and brick red shoulder bag that was clenched between her fingers. Clutching my favorite multicolored patchwork Pocahontas quilt and black stuffed animal, I hurried behind my mom as we made our way out of our apartment. It was located in Scott Projects, notoriously known as one of the most dangerous housing projects in Miami, Florida. But it wasn’t so dangerous that day. In fact, it was so full of beauty and life. As we exited the front door, we were met with the sweltering Miami heat accompanied by the quintessential spring breeze. Children’s faces gleamed with joy as they frolicked among one another; jumping rope, playing tag, and riding their bikes up and down the gritty sidewalks. We rushed to the car, my mom opened the back door, buckled my seat belt and kissed my forehead. I gazed at her with so much wonder in my eyes, fighting back the tears, she cracked a half smile and assured me that everything was going to be okay. A few moments later we met up with my cousin Ava, her brother Desmond and my

She's been called it all, murder jr., Bonzo Barb. It never stops. Every day since her dad's accident she's been bullied. The reason that she's being ridiculed is, her dad, Lieutenant John D. Herring Thunker police officer, he was on patrol in the small, quiet, the ice frozen town of Thunker. But little does he know Derrick Char, 16, and behind the wheel is driving 40 miles over the speed limit and comes head on with barbs dad's police car. Derrick died, but that’s not the last the Herring family will be hearing that name.

I’m a 16 year old girl who is 6 weeks pregnant. I did not think I would ever say that. So far, my boyfriend whose name is Jayden, his mom, and my mom are the only people who knew. It was extremely difficult to tell my mom this. I was born and raised in a very Christian family who take their religion and values seriously. When I had the courage to tell my mom I was pregnant, I was not only embarrassed, but ashamed of myself. My mom was not angry at me. She was only disappointed.

I hurry and race up the stairs, carrying the small plastic bag with me. Once I'm up to the top of the

The first time I tried to write a story I was in grade school. It was for a seventh or eighth grade assignment. It was about a puppy who got lost and was stranded. He was found by a police dog who brought him back to his home and made sure he stayed safe. I still have the story at my house. I wrote a different short story in my eighth grade year that was very dramatic. I wrote about a girl who was extremely young that got pregnant, and ran away from home so she could keep the baby. It told about how she didn’t believe she got pregnant and how she felt. It was SUPER dramatic in how the girl reacted and the punishment she received from her mother at the end was really slack and unrealistic. I didn’t understand what I was writing about at the time and didn’t understand the seriousness involved. If I wrote the same story now, you wouldn’t be able to tell it was the same one, besides the basic outline. The punishment would be more severe and the way the girl reacted would be different. I would also change her age so she was in the upper grades of high school, not the lower.(I think I made the girl thirteen to fifteen years old.)

Weeds grew tall in the front garden of 6 Beach Hut Cottages and the gate at the end of the path sagged in the middle. She paused on the step and put her ear to the door to listen for any sounds. Floorboard squeaking. The sound of voices. But it sounded as dead as a soggy cornflake.

"Can you elaborate?" She was starting to get annoyed with his short answers and dodges. If he caused her to lose her free meal she was going to... she didn't know just what at that moment but if he gave her a chance to debate his death, she was going to come up with a very creative option.

“Can you hurry up? You’ve been in the bathroom for forty-five minutes!” Sophia yells through the bathroom door.

It was overwhelming for me to see the whole family together, crowded around the television, possessing the same amount of excitement. “The US will be starting their fast at the start of sunrise”, stated the man. I had fallen asleep, listening to the news. Next thing I knew, I awoke to the sounds of my mom making our special breakfast specials, consisting of ‘Halwa’, ‘Parathas’, eggs, and tea; it was time for ‘Sehri’, the