Zepher's Ironic Figures: A Narrative Fiction

“I’ll never hit you in the face where it will leave a mark...” The words rushed in, taunting. The cold emptiness in the tone, like he was there in the room, whispering in her ear. And all at once, the fear was back. The raw fear that gripped her body like a vice and left her gulping in air. In a panic, she whirled her head around the room. She was alone. Relief flooded her, but the sickening butterflies remained. She gripped the counter until her knuckles turned white; outlining the jagged scar more prominently, and she fought to steady her breathing, blink back the tears, focus on something else.

On October 21st, 2018, Maaz works late in his office, organizing papers and finishing up his work from earlier that day. A blanket of thunder and lightning covers the sky. Rain pours down heavily on the leaf covered ground. Maaz rushes to put away the chemicals he had used earlier that day to conduct experiments on the forensic evidence that was given to him days before. In the midst of his speedy work he knocked over one of the chemicals labeled “T.I. 3”, the glass container shatters as it hits the floor. Already enraged Maaz reaches down to grab the larger pieces of the broken container, he cuts himself opening up a wound in his thumb that the chemical absorbs into, however he is unaware. He finishes up and gathers his belongings as he locks

Her lips formed strange and unusual sounds, her eyes closed softly and her cheeks paled. From her side belt she withdrew a small knife, a dagger. With a quick movement she cut her left hand with the dagger. As the drops of blood hit the cold marble floor the knife also clattered to the ground. The girl remained speaking her foreign tongue and let her life's blood run down her outstretched arm.

When one begins to read Antigone, they may find it very easy to recognize the use of irony throughout the work. The author, Sophocles, was known to work his plots into lines in which tragic irony would occur over and over. He would then bring lines that had been spoken previously in a play in later to form a climax of the drama (Johns). Sophocles used "tragic irony" often in Antigone, along with other plays that he has written. “‘Tragic irony’ whereby a character's words carry a deeper and more sinister meaning for the audience than the character speaking them intends to impart (Dawe).” Not only does he use tragic irony, but he also uses verbal irony and even some situational irony all throughout Antigone. Creon is a character known throughout the play to display a large number of verbal irony.

It has been at least an hour and a half since the attack. She does not remember anything that happened. She slowly get up and reaches for the doorknob. A sudden shot of pain went up her arm. Blood then started dripping from her hand. She had been cut. A knife stabbed her in her hand. “Ow.”, She then blacks out.

“Mom, I'm home”. Philbert knew that his mom was really sick so when she didn't answer he knew it would be best to keep shut. “Mom where are you”. Philbert exclaimed. Usually, if he wasn't already getting scolded, he would, at least, have a “shut your trap son, I'm busy”. He went upstairs to see if she was sleeping or something.Nata. He went out to the garden and saw one of the most horrible things he’s ever seen in his life. His mom was on the ground with massive amounts of blood coming from her head. She was bleeding out.

The blood was everywhere, but still, most of the blood covered the woman’s eyes. She seems to have no more energy to pick up the knife. Instead, she murmured:“He’s still alive...You killed him! It’s you! He was still alive when you told me he was

Smooth, thin, and cold, the sharp object lying in her hands trembled due to her petite quivering fingers. The unforgiving sharp blade effortlessly sliced through her skin, pain and then numbness overshadowed her thoughts. With the world weighing down on her shoulders and with the sense of oppression, the girl carved into her arm without a feeling of regret. Daring, she placed the knife parallel to her veins located under her thin pasty skin. Finally, with resolution, digging the knife into her small arm, the young tortured girl could feel the deadly weapon tearing and mutilating her long tender veins. Gasping for breath, the pain surged throughout her body. However, with agony coursing through her body, the victim would not stop her leisurely stroll to the grave.

“The Flowers” by Alice Walker The main character in the story “The Flowers” by Alice Walker is a ten year old, sheltered African American little girl, who rejoices in the beauty of the natural world around her. She is an only child in her family and loves to pick flowers. Her father is a sharecropper, and her mother is a maid. Her family lives in a rusty brown sharecropper cabin out in the country on a farm.

"See you," they say as she turns and leaves the twenty dollars on the desk before walking out. "Hey Delia have you seen Ned? It's eleven thirty five and he said he'd be here eleven thirty."

Tizbeth laid there on her back with her arm over her eyes. Her mind told her to leave. Her body told her she was dying. She closed her eyes; she may have passed out. She dreamed of being in her heat forge and someone, a man, told her she was doing a good job. She ran her hand over the braided love knot pedant. Although unrefreshed when she opened her eyes, Tizbeth rolled on her stomach, crawl toward the stairs and

The siren caresses his dainty fingers through Carden's coarse hair for a loving moment before grabbing a handful of it and flinging him onto his ass without remorse. Car growled playfully, it riled him up in all the right places when he had to work to have his lover. He placed himself on all fours slowly crawling up while Jude began disrobing his own belt from its loops. His vampire moaned needingly under his breath, his tracks behind put on hold when the siren’s boot was pressed dominantly into his throat causing him to choke back on his own

You could tell that someone had already touched her because she had fingerprints on her beautiful face, and the laces from her shoes were taken out. There were open wounds on the bottom half of her body that were made by the hungry vultures. The smell of her corpse was so pungent that it would make anyone want to vomit; the smell reminded him of rotten eggs, roadkill, and sewer water. The blood that she was laying in had turned into a dark red that had hardened over a long period of time. He couldn 't look for too long because all the thought about death started to come back into his mind again. Wanting to escape the horrible thought, he ran like a cheetah released to the wild.

"You were always so close..." she murmured sleepily. “I dreamt I was chasing you...through shadows... and trees. But you were so far..." Her eyelids clenched, flinching against the memory.

Azoth squatted in the alley, cold mud squishing through his bare toes. He stared at the narrow space beneath the wall, trying to get his nerve up. The sun wouldn’t come up for hours, and the tavern was empty. Most taverns in the city had dirt floors, but this part of the Warrens had been built over marshland, and not even drunks wanted to drink standing ankle-deep in mud, so the tavern had been raised a few inches on stilts and floored with stout bamboo poles.