Narrative Theory As a general term, narration is to tell a story with the description and the shaping of an event (Nash, 1990). Accordingly, narratology is considered to be the study of the function and of the form of narrative, going back in the Western tradition of Aristotle and Plato (Prince, 1982). An exceptional rise of narrative analysis has been noted in the last four or five decades, which attracted various analysts, linguists and philosophers to get involved with the field of narratology…

hesitantly. “I regret to inform you that he is not available currently. I’ve heard he went to search for new supplies and will not be back for a few days. You’ve most likely walked a long day for nothing. May I ask… why do you not fly instead?” “The winds are unfavourable and flying would be hazardous,” he replied evenly “heavy snow reduces visibility making it more dangerous. Walking is the only option.” “I see. Please, join us and allow my husband to drive you the rest of the way. I can see that you…

swooped over one eye like an Anime hero was what intrigued me at first, but I knew I was caught: hook, line and sinker by the way he radiated mall-bought tween angst from every pore of his being. All the Spencer’s Gifts and Hot Topic stores in the world could convince me less of his profound individualism. I often spent my allotted hour of Internet searching for, then copying and pasting song lyrics into my online profile in order to trumpet the depth and anguish of my troubled soul, hoping to impress…

suitcase with clothes and put in it the trunk of the car. I got in the leather covered car seats, with my trusty pillow and blanket. Before I knew it I was out, I woke up about…an hour or so later. I looked out of the window the grass blowing in the wind, the sky as blue as a lake not a cloud in the sky. I sat up right “dad where are we going” the car stayed silent for a couple minutes then I heard the deep voice of my dad “where going to Spring Lake.” It sounded nice I thought hopefully there’s a…

black marble building was [insert club name]. A bouncer stood at the bottom of the stairs, behind a velvet rope, that would be lifted for any female that looked like she could pay the fee to enter the smoked glass doors that led into his world. His world of make believe. They were in the club through a back entrance, of which only the men working in the club knew. Shaun the bartender, one of the few guys Spencer liked outside of the club was spiking his hair in the mirrors provided for them…

favored “Your dream is coming true you have to believe in True love’s destiny”. I said with a genuine smile of happiness “Yeah let’s, but first I need to drop my book off at my locker. Do you need to go to yours?” Her voice sounding sweet like the wind chimes in a summer breeze. “No I won’t have to, let’s get going” as we passed the people and walked through crowds of Eagle Rock High school students we laughed and conversed. We were talking as if we were strolling around the mall and it was a date…

Shattered Once upon a time, there was a sorcerer who had a twelve year old son named Darcy. Darcy had a magical power to see all things happening in the world. The sorcerer, knowing of his power, trapped Darcy in a mirror so that he could never leave him, but by doing this Darcy's power was limited so that he could only see things when a mirror was near by. Hearing of the boy's power, the Evil Queen had the sorcerer killed and took the young magical child ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~…

delicate hands were linked together as though playing some kind of game. All stood perfectly straight, but one who was bend forward with its head turned as if spying on the first child in the link. The woman could almost hear them laughing, like a wind faintly whispering in her ear. The last statue, farthest from where she sat, was a woman. She must have been very old, much older than the man. The statue’s hands were long and thin with deep creases in her thin. They were so thin the skin sunk…

the sweaty palms into her cheeks with fingers over her eyes, spread so she could see between them, it could be done. But that seemed like cheating and it wasn't a dance of the dervish. They did graceful spins like dandelion fluff or ash seeds on the wind. Maybe she had stopped too fast and put her arms down too fast, jolting her equilibrium into wanting normal. But she hadn't been dizzy until she'd quit spinning and that meant something. Didn't the dervish slow to a waltzed step before they settled…

Have you ever wondered if somewhere in this world there was a special place where magical things can happen? If so you were right all along. Except when you enter that magical world everything will not only be happy…. There is that one side of dark magic that you never want to see…. And, I, myself experienced that that side. It all started when I was at my school, Stinson. The bell had rung and I was going down stairs from ninth period art to my bus. I found my bus, R27, in the same place as always…