Susie had slapped Aaron Brooks when he introduced her to the game Mao. It was at one of those dumb house parties that were full of freshman girls and upperclassmen guys. (She was one of the freshman girls‚ and hadn’t learned to avoid them yet.) She’d had three gin-and-tonics and Aaron kept staring at her boobs‚ so she only felt a little sorry about slapping him at the time. (And if he was trying to sleep with her‚ introducing her to an incredibly frustrating card game was the wrong way to go about
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For the sake of anonymity I’ll keep some names private‚ and call myself Beowulf. My story happened around two years ago‚ I was 26 years old when my family and I had noticed that my grandmother was starting to forget our names‚ couldn’t recall certain events‚ and at times seemed in a daze and lost from her state of mind‚ completely forgetting where she was in that moment. This was followed by her stumbling around the house and falling a few times. One time it got to the point where she fell down
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Flames were raging behind Karlie‚ engulfing anything and everything in its way. All that she could feel was the scorching heat and all she could smell was the smoke. Debris blinded Karlie as she tried to escape the horror creeping up behind her. It seemed like fear had caused her to forget that she had just lost everything; her home‚ her parents and her friends. A dagger pierced the layers of Karlie’s heart as a cyclone erupted from her sparkling blue eyes. She knew nothing would ever be the same
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corner of the mausoleum and a distant door close with sudden fury‚ felt for the first time the danger that was lurking. I trod as softly but impatiently yet looked back frequently to see if I was being followed. My blood curdled as I forced the door open‚ the windows seemed to be in motion‚ it could be nothing but the violence of the wind penetrating through the divisions of the shutters. Brilliant moonlight along the floor shone like pearls‚ and I left footsteps marking where I had disturbed long
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Nevertheless‚ as we kept talking I could only listen in fascination‚ our lives seemed so similar to each others. Our conversations were long‚ and laughter filled. We talked about our family and personal lives. We both became pretty close over the short amount of time that we had been talking. When it came to a more in depth conversation about of family‚ we both fell silent. “I used to have a father and mother‚ but they aren’t in the picture now” she explained as her eyes slowly teared up. After
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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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minutes reaffirmed their belief in his kindness and courage. And they are committed to making sure his life‚ and death‚ were not in vain. Jeff Crowther hopes his son’s story will inspire people to become a volunteer firefighter‚ to give money to the homeless every day like Welles did‚ to set goals and follow through. "If Welles’ story helps people to think of others then God bless them‚ God bless him‚" said his father. "He didn’t live long enough to be head of a corporation or do good works or endow
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Reading the story “The Chase” took me back to an event I feel if I had to judge anything that grossly affected my life this event without a dough takes the cake. Picture this am twelve years old and it is the first day of summer. It is the day my friends and I waited for all winter‚ opening season for swimming. Each day my friends and I took the long anticipated walk to the local swimming area “Lake Sona Vista”. This was the recreation area the black families who lived in Hartsville‚ South Carolina
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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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with blue roofs but still manages to look dark and mysterious and has an eerie feel surrounding it. It is long and on half of it is about 10 floors high with little towers coming out above the main roof‚ the other half is lower down‚ only about 5 stories high‚ with a large watch tower in the middle of that section. It houses my aunt‚ uncle and their daughter‚ my cousin and a few other families. For the last few days I’ve been walking to their estate as I am moving there to live with them because my
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