Five Short Stories Alphonse Daudet The Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction‚ Vol. XIII‚ Part 4. Selected by Charles William Eliot Copyright © 2001 Bartleby.com‚ Inc. Bibliographic Record Contents Biographical Note Criticisms and Interpretations I. By Henry James II. By George Pellissier 1. The Siege of Berlin 2. The Last Class—The Story of a Little Alsatian 3. The Child Spy 4. The Game of Billiards 5. The Bad Zouave Biographical Note ALPHONSE DAUDET was born at Nîmes in the
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It’s the same oak tree every day‚ some leaves are pale as paper‚ some dark as pitch; some rich as chocolate‚ and some poor thin shreds‚ there life on the tree almost ending as there about to fall‚ each year around this time of year they cover the woodland floor. From clasped grey buds bursting into bronze‚ opening into this year’s glorious spring and deepening into one of the best summer’s green before colouring in autumn and falling precisely here. It’s a simple life‚ before I deployed‚ I was very
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Zichao Huang Mr. Lambert English028 March 17‚ 2015 The Story of an Hour “The Story of an Hour” is about a woman named Mrs. Mallard who is married to a man named Mr. Mallard. Mrs. Mallard does not have a very good heart‚ and she is sick. Something bad has happened‚ and people do not know how to tell her about it. Josephine is her sister‚ and she tells Mrs. Mallard that Mr. Mallard died in a train accident. Richards is Mr. Mallard’s friend‚ and he is there because he knew about the accident. Richards
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BELONGING STORY(2) Coughing violently‚ I passed the glass pipe along to the young man beside me‚ who took a long drag before handing it on the next in the circle. I could feel the foul-tasting smoke tear down my throat and withstood the urge to vomit. The entire room was overflowing with a fetid haze; it grated against the back of my throat as though it were sandpaper. I fought to maintain my composure and appearance of serenity‚ but if anyone looked close enough they would easily be able to distinguish
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In Control In my sophomore year of high school‚ I remember a particular speech I had to deliver in my English class. It was just like any other‚ honestly. But this one‚ this specific one‚ gave me the greatest trouble. My irrational fear of public speaking consumed me and turned me against myself. I remember the mindset that I had for most of my sophomore year: me vs. them. That was how high school was. It was every man for himself. But never would I have ever thought that I was my own biggest obstacle
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very few could manipulate it to their will. The man in this story is me‚ my name is Rayn and I write this story to chronicle my rise to power. My journey started when I was in my mid twenties and our country was at war with a neighboring kingdom. I was a guard for a small village which was ruled by the empire of Luton grod. One day while out on patrol a strange old man was making his way to our village. This is where our story begins. The
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Short Story Scrutiny. Scepticism. Shock. It was all too familiar‚ the look on the faces in the room. An aboriginal female in a doctor’s coat. She glanced around the room as she sat down. The dullness of the grey walls seemed to absorb the lost hopes and dreams of the young men around her. The stale oxygen that lingered in the small room was slowly suffocating under the sterile smell of disinfectant. The only glimmer of light was a small corner of a window where the morning sun shimmered through
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Short Story Screaming in pain‚ Rebecca was about to give birth to her first baby. She was forced to have a homebirth as there were no hospitals around for miles. Her shrieks of pain had woken everyone in the neighbourhood‚ many came up to the house to get a glimpse of the situation. One of Rebecca’s friends‚ Rick‚ had rushed into the house in a matter of minutes after he heard the screaming. Rick stayed with Rebecca for several hours that followed to comfort her as best he could. His best attempts
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It was one of the more curious things about Humanity‚ our reluctance to allow others see us cry. It could be said that it was a form of defense‚ of never letting one know your weakness‚ and perhaps there was some truth to that. After all‚ hadn’t Humanity kept the Deadly Races at bay for a time by pretending to be strong? That day‚ however‚ Intrepidus was not able to hide his weakness by refusing to go home a mess. There was a shadow he had failed to realize did not have a place in this cavern any
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Avilio‚ being the serial pick pocket he is‚ manages to get the pair enough money to stay in a dinky inn on their way to the next town. The building is a sad sight‚ being nothing more than shabby wooden planks being held together by faith and strong glue. Nero is thoroughly convinced that if he sneezes hard enough‚ the building would collapse on its own. “We’d like to stay for a night. Two if possible.” An old lady with no teeth stands at the counter with a black cat on her shoulder. The cat hisses
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