Once upon a time there was a boy laid in a corner of a dark room‚ he was alone and silent. The only noise was that of footsteps which entered the room. "Macro! Get up you swine" said the man. His voice was very deep and menacing. He wore a redcap with a dark green army suit‚ again he shouted and the boy slowly rose from the floor. “We know that you are involved with a gang of villains called the Mad Catz but where IS your secret layer?!!” screamed the man impatiently “I don’t work with them
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he investigated and found the problem. A 10 years old boy was standing on the side of the road with a huge hand painted sign which said “Radar Trap Ahead.” A little more investigative work led the officer to the boy’s accomplice: another boy about 100 yards beyond the radar trap with a
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----------- The Mienshao opened her eyes and gasped loudly. She could instantly feel that she was sitting in a very uncomfortable position in small‚ enclosed space. The ground felt cold and metallic. It was obviously some kind of cage. The Mienshao looked down to her stomach and rubbed it‚ relieved to feel that her unborn baby was unharmed. "Richard‚ long time‚ no see buddy. How’ve you been?" a voice spoke happily. "Dr. Feinburg‚ it sure is great to see you again‚" replied a second voice
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The Chapel I sat in was lined with wooden pews‚ unadorned as befitted the sombre mood. Inside the atmosphere was oppressive and a faint mustiness hung in the air. I was vaguely aware of the murmurs and rustlings of the other mourners as they took their seats. I dabbed my eyes with the hanker-chief as the deeply moving and melancholy chords of “Amazing Grace” began to filter through the stony walls. Ahead of the pews the mahogany casket was polished to a glossy shine and adorned with pale pink
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It was a beautiful fall weekend; the sunlight shined enough to provide just the right amount of warmth to make it the perfect picnic day. I was on my way to meet my parents for the annual South Florida Police and Fire bar-b-que. I knew that there was a chance that he would be there since a good part of his family is fire fighters. I have been organizing‚ planning‚ helping‚ running‚ and attending this event ever since I can remember‚ and there had only been a few times that he showed up because the
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Throughout this story‚ Mustafa leaves you pondering the idea‚ that the Muslim culture has a brilliant way of living. Muslims wear hijabs. Wearing a hijab takes away the ability to judge others based on their gender‚ wealth‚ and beauty; leaving you only to focus on a person’s character. This way of living‚ deepens my current belief that we should only be defined by our actions. The story leaves you considering if we are unintentionally judgmental and
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“A very short story” (By Esther Monshouwer) “A very short story” is written by Ernest Hemmingway‚ and published in 1925 In our time. It’s about a love affair between an American soldier and an Italian nurse‚ named Luz‚ during a war (probably world war one). They met and fell in love while he was wounded and in the hospital. They wanted to get married right away‚ but they didn’t have the right paperwork or time. They decided that he would go to New York after the war (armistice) and get a job
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Klingova‚ Milena 10/3 02/04/13 SHORT STORY Final Draft She was walking home after a big trigonometry test‚ which in her head had not gone well at all‚ even though she had spent hours and hours‚ preparing for it. When I think about it‚ her thoughts cannot be entirely trusted‚ as she was highly competitive and ambitious‚ and even though she was only 16‚ she knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. Who was she though? Her name was
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AnimatedRick‚ in an animated display of fist flaying managed to punch three innocent bystanders trying to stop him fromkilling Shane. CelerityWhen Carl finally found a jar of peanut butter‚ he ate it with such celerity that he forgot to think about sharingwith the rest of the starving group.DawdleDaryl couldn’t watch Carl dawdle with his crossbow‚ he couldn’t stand how long it took him to load it.DilatoryBeing a baby‚ Judith was dilatory in falling asleep and wouldn’t let anyone else rest until she
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What makes a good scary story? A good scary story is only good if it’s based on something that happened in reality and could happen to anybody. My story is something similar to that. Now that I look back at it‚ maybe it was just the sugar rush I had from the Surge soft drink. It had my blood pumping and my heart beat was racing. I haven’t been back to those woods since that day; however‚ there was still a part of me that wondered if what I saw was there in reality and not just my imagination. Either
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