Alive !-Personal Narrative

Alive !-Personal Narrative
As I walked into the school gym I saw her. Standing on the other side of the room talking to her new
friends. She probably had no idea that I was alive. Probably, thought I was gone forever. The blaring
music filled the room as the students darted towards the dance floor. I could see a glimpse of her but
then she disappeared into the crowd. I gradually walked toward he hoping she would see me. I
grabbed her by the hand, pulled her away from her friends and gave her a big hug. She screamed but
no one could hear her. It was not a scream of fear but a scream of joy. It was me she had been
looking for, for the past 3 years. No one knew where I was. No one knew what had happened. I tried
to say help, but I was too weak to open my mouth.
"I can't ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
No one to turn too. I had just left the shelter I was offered and wanted to find that man. Luckily,
there was boot prints in the snow. I followed them into the murky, bottomless woods, putting one
foot in each of the massive foot holes. My feet made a sweet and bitter crunching sound as the snow
was being crushed under my toes. At first I thought I was being followed but luckily it was my
senseless imagination.
As I reached the end of the path there was a cabin. The cabin I remembered. With the number 13,
the bloody windows, and the knife on the steps. It all seemed so surreal. I walked closer and closer
to the cabin hoping to find the man and ask him who he was and why he kidnapped me. I know is
stupid to go up to a kidnapper, but he was the only person that would have all the answers.
"You. What are you doing on my property? No one but me here, so if you are the police then go
ahead and leave. I don't have anything to hide," he said. "I said go on" he said again. "So yourself,"
he said. He, the man I was looking for. He, the man under the jacket at Emma's house. His face, the
face of the man that had kidnapped me. He, the man that I recognized. He, the man now not under
my coat. He, my father. "Jackson, I can explain," my father
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A Short Story : Jordan Adams's Story
It was a normal Tuesday morning. Jordan Adams was a 26 year old man who lived in New York
City and he was on his way to his train in the Subway. He was wearing his suit and had his bag of
papers to present to his company. He wanted to propose his book ideas and to soon write them.
Jordan checked the train arrival times and saw that his train should be there in five minutes. The
train came to the station and people started to come out.
There were lots of people, but one person caught Jordan's eye. He looked to be about in his thirties
and was dressed poorly. He also had bruises on his face, which suggested he had been a fight or two.
He kept on looking over his shoulder as if he was being watched. Suddenly, the man started running
and Jordan realized why. There were three men in suits running after him! The man tripped and fell
straight into Jordan, knocking him over. The man got right back up and ran up the stairs, but the
three men were right behind him now. They all went out of Jordan's sight and then Jordan heard a
loud bang. It must have been a gunshot. Jordan was about to run up the stairs when he heard a siren
and decided to stay and wait for his train. He picked up his bag and saw a flash drive in it. It was not
his; he must have picked it up by accident. Jordan got on his train and took out his laptop to see
what was on the drive. Jordan plugged in the drive and there was an encryption code. He knew that
there must be something special on that drive if it had that

Abominations In Frankenstein
Nobody has ever truly seen this elusive, sleek, and enigmatic hero yet stories of his magnificent
deeds used to spread among the darkness like wild fire in a forest lush with trees. They say he only
appears in the high tide of midnight where his costume is utterly obscure and furtive; The cover of
darkness and all of its inhabitants who dwell are abominations who'd scare even the most seasoned
heroes are frightened by the monstrous booming of his every step and his whirlwind like breath.
Shockingly, he isn't an evil hero as he keeps those abominations at bay through either his silver
tongue or his unfathomable sheer strength that can rival that of ten thousand tanks. Although most
of his deeds are done in the blind spot of humans he nonetheless ... Show more content on
Helpwriting.net ...
The man then suddenly glistened with joy as he thought his efforts bore fruition. The joy was short
lived however as The Shadow began to speak with a thunderous voice and said, "you have become
the embodiment of the crass blob like creature that tried to kill you once. You are now a creature of
the night as your heart is foul and forever wretched." And just as The Shadow said his final word he
melted into the shadows and back into the shadowy dominion in which he reigned. The man
apparently took no heed to The Shadow's words as all of the guilt and regret he had felt earlier had
just washed away like a shell on the sand of a shore. He laughed hysterically and madly as he
planned to meet The Shadow once again and again. The Shadow now aware of the man's sinister
future efforts decided to take matters into his own hands. He arose once more from the shadows and
confronted the man just as he was about to reach for the door handle which led outside and towards
his next victim. The Shadow thunderously said "I have vowed to never harm or kill a human being,
however you are no longer human and must be stopped. I regret saving your life." The Shadow then
proceeded to raise both of his hands and grip the man's neck with enough force to easily break his
neck and drop his already soulless body onto the hardwood floor. After that incident The Shadow
hasn't mentally been the same and is now referred among the darkness and its abominations as the
Grim

The Importance of Setting in Jack London's To Build A...
The Importance of Setting in Jack London's To Build A Fire
In "To Build a Fire" by Jack London, the setting plays a
significant role throughout the entire short story. Jack London uses
certain techniques to establish the atmosphere of the story. By
introducing his readers to the setting, prepares them for a tone that is
depressed and frightening. Isolated by an environment of frigid
weather and doom, the author shows us how the main character of the story
is completely unaware of his surroundings. The only world the man is truly
accustomed to, is his own. Never being exposed to such a harsh climate,
draws us to the conclusion that the environment is the determining factor
of his ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
What he would do if the
inevitable happened to him, is his personal monster. This situation
causes the man to become selfish, only focusing on his present actions and
thoughts. The man's ignorance to his surroundings foreshadows a possible
downfall.
London provides us with subconscious hints in his writing, that
lead his readers to believe that the man will suffer a tragedy in the end

of the story. "Its instinct told a truer tale than was told to the man by
the man's judgment." Having only the knowledge of his previous experiences,
the man is at a disadvantage to the dog. The dog by nature, is an
animal that has an innate gift of instinct. The setting placed in this
type of habitat, is the main conflict of the story. Under the cold
conditions, the dog has the ability to survive because it has always known
how. Only using his judgment, the man can't understand how to prevent a
disaster from occurring. London has already given away the ending, as a
result of his constant focus of the effect the environment has on the man
not knowing the means of survival that the dog knows.
Lured to the plot of the story, we keep on reading always
anticipating the danger of the climate to overcome the man. "On the other
hand, there was no keen

Theme Of A Fire By Jack London
To Build a Fire
Jack Thurman Prof Cole Bellamy
Week 3
In "To Build a Fire" by Jack London, the setting plays a significant role throughout the entire short
story. Jack London uses certain techniques to establish the atmosphere of the story. By introducing
his readers to the setting, prepares them for a tone that is depressed and frightening. Isolated by an
environment of frigid weather and doom, the author shows us how the main character of the story is
completely unaware of his surroundings. The only world the man is truly accustomed to, is his own.
Never being exposed to such a harsh climate, draws us to the conclusion that the environment is the
determining factor of his survival, as well as his dog 's too. Anything that the man and his dog
comes into contact with, creates an anticipation for disaster in the story.
London places a strong emphasis on the setting in the introduction to the story. "Day had broken
cold and grey, exceedingly cold and grey..." He repeats these phrases to redefine to his readers the
impact the setting has on the lives of the characters. The gloominess of the setting instills feelings in
the man and the dog, of a constant battle with this world of depression they are in. Being given no
sense of imagination, the man is only gifted with his practical knowledge. He therefore is shown to
lack the experience and thought to adapt to the conditions encompassing him.
Typically, man never wants to deal with the reality, especially when it

A Short Story : A Story?
Craig shifted in his seat; the wooden chair was so uncomfortable. He was in a corridor, lined with
identical chairs occupied by more young men of about his age. The corridor smelled like polish and
floor cleaner, and was painted a dull grey and cream. A few feet away stood a tough looking soldier,
immaculately dressed in a dark green uniform and carrying a large wooden cane. Every few minutes
a light bulb hanging above a doorway would flash, a buzzer would sound and the soldier jabbed the
man sitting closest to him with his cane.
Craig heard the buzzer yet again and saw the flashing light reflected on the wall opposite. The
soldier turned to the nearest young man and prodded him in the middle of his chest with the cane.
"You ––– in there," he said. Craig had heard him use that phrase repeatedly.
The young man in question stood up and opened the door as the others before him had done. He
went inside and the door closed.
"Move up!" shouted the soldier, another frequently repeated instruction.
The man now nearest to the soldier stood up and moved to the vacated chair. Everyone else in the
line followed suit, moving nearer to his fate. Craig was now only two chairs away from the door, the
sinking sensation in his stomach intensified and he started to bite his fingernails. The man ahead of
him in the queue did not seem to know what to do with his hands; he put them on his head, under
his chin, behind his neck, on his knees and in his lap.
There was no clock in the corridor

Short Essay On The Hallower
Michael Montgomery was absolutely pissed that me had to work on Halloween. He had planned to
go to a Halloween party that night in fact. But instead he was stuck in an old and dreary gas station.
There wasn't even anyone around, they were all too busy with their own plans to stop for gas.
Michael sat there in pure boredom. I'm fact he dosed off into a light and dreamless sleep. A dinging
bell awoke him with a jolt. He saw Mars Vesper standing in the door way with a blank stare. He
knew him very vaguely. Mars was a year younger that himself. Michael watched as he wandered
aimlessly around the store for a few minutes, and approached he counter with two six–packs.
"Hey Mars you know I can't legally sell alcohol to you right?" Michael asked. ... Show more content
on Helpwriting.net ...
"Okay I'll ring it up" Michael scanned both items, when suddenly a man was staring at him from the
far isle, peaking at him from behind the shelf.
"Hey you get out from behind there" Michael yelled.
"Hey dude this is taking way too long I gotta go." Mars stated as he grabbed his items and turned his
back to the counter.
"Put your hands up now!" The mysterious man called. A faint clicking sound, one that could only be
of a bullet shifting into the barrel. Mars dropped the beer into the floor immediately, sending it
crashing into the floor and a large pool of alcohol stained onto the floor. He stood frozen facing the
door. His freedom was so close he could almost reach out for the door handle and run fast away
from the terrible situation.
"You! Get behind the counter!" the man screamed. Mars was frozen in fear, but he slowly moved his
leg inch by in and stood directly by Michael, all while keeping his hands stiff in the air. The man
threw a small brown sac at Michael.
"Fill it up boy, I don't have time to hang around" He chuckled slightly. Michael went to work and
started filling the bag with all the money in the register. He sort of felt bad for the man going
through all of this trouble and only getting around fifty–something dollars. It had been a slow night
with it being Halloween and all not many people had stopped by.
"This, is it?" The man questioned. He looked very frustrated and confused.
"Sorry sir,

The Floor Was Stained With Blood
The floor was stained with blood. A ragged, tri–colored wool mat sat upon it. The boards would
creak even if a small mouse were to crawl across it. Underneath the blood stained floor boards was
an old cellar. Inside the cellar there was a small table, hundreds of bushels of apples, and an old
wooden chair. In the most internal part of the chair there was a teen girl named, Libitina. Her arms
were tied around the back of the chair, her legs tied to the bottoms of the chair. There was a gauze in
her mouth, and a laceration across her head that bleed profusely onto the desolate ground. Her eyes
watered, reflecting her feelings of pain, and fear. Light emerged from the cellar door showing the
sillouette of a small ... Show more content on Helpwriting.net ...
" I needed a blood sacrifice." He talked as he paced around. He laid the candle on the table next to
Libitina. He walked back towards Libitina, and smiled. "Would you like to see how that works?"
Libitina wailed "NOOOO!" Adalwoof tried to wrap the gauze back around her mouth, and she
kicked him profusely. She hit one of his small knees, and he fell to the floor. When he got up what
he did was horrifying. He let out a laugh, dusted himself off, and walked up to Libitina. He grabbed
a pair of rusty plyers from inside his suits pockets. He walked up to her, and grabbed her by the
throat. As she gasped for air he tied the gauze around her mouth, and ever so carefully plucked her
teeth out one by one. Her mouth poured blood like a fountain, and she screamed in horror as her
teeth would be pulled, and twisted out. Adalwoof was so concentrated on doing it in the most
precise manner. What he did last would be the worst. He grabbed her tongue with his hand, and ever
so lightly pulled it out. She screamed, and cried in horror. Adalwoof let out a malicious laugh, and
held the tongue tightly in his grasp. "To bad you can't talk anymore or maybe you could've
persuaded me not to do this." He let out a laugh as he squeezed the blood from the tongue onto his
hands, and drank it. He started to seize, his eyes turned yellow, and he had hair petruding from every
angle of him. He was a disgusting hairy

The Librarian 's Voice Echoes Through An Dark Chamber
"Hello there, bitch," the librarian's voice echoes through an indistinct dark chamber. The man
struggles against cold metallic restraints on a frigid metal table on which he now lies, "Are you
comfortable, right now? I doubt it." The man's head is throbbing as if his heart had crawled into his
skull then pulsed manically just under the skin of his temple. "Your wrists and ankles are chained, a
ball gag in your mouth, you're disoriented and scared, I imagine, wondering how you got here," the
familiar woman's voice intones softly. The man struggles to recall how he got here, any sign or
landmark that might indicate where he is, how he could get free, anything, at all. He thinks about his
last memories. The man felt twinges of nervousness as the librarian sat next to him in the back seat
of the Uber car she'd ordered. "So, uh, where are we going?" the man asked with flickers of
excitement and unease. "You'll see," the librarian replied as she stared at the blur of city lights that
passed by her passenger window. The Uber driver stoically veered the car up the ramp that led from
the FDR to the Brooklyn Bridge then merged with traffic crossing the expanse over the East River.
Then nothing. The dull glow of a video screen now flitters in the infinite darkness above the man's
head. He strains to move his head against the restraints to see the video. "I am going to tell you in
detail why you've been kidnapped, what's going to happen to you, and how long you'll be here,"

A Short Story : A Story?
My eyes sting and are red from all the crying. I look like I've been beat up, and my face appears
double the size because of my puffy eyes. This morning, I visited my wife's grave after a week of
mourning with my son. While I was there, I saw a small bag of bread perched on top of her grave
stone. There is something peculiar about the bread, and it brings me back to my childhood
memories... "Martin, again? You have really done it this time! Will you ever learn your lesson?"
This is the sixth time Ms. Garcia caught me this month. Scrubbing the floors of the boys' room is a
daily routine for me. I know I shouldn't have stolen the bread, but it just spoke to me. It was saying,
come here Martin, come here and take me. I tried to apologize and replied in a soft voice. "I am
sorry Ms. Garcia, may I ask for your–" Ms. Garcia showed no mercy, and interrupted me in my
thoughts. "Are you really asking for my forgiveness? Martin, this is the sixth time this month, and it
is only the fifth of January!" she paused, and stared at me with her big brown eyes "It's you last
month here at the orphanage, so make the most of it. You should be the role model for these kids.
They look up to you Martin." After lunch while cleaning the stalls, I thought about what Ms. Garcia
told me. In a few days, it's my birthday, my 18th birthday. This is the day of when I am an adult and
could earn my freedom out of this place. Ms. Garcia is right, it is my last month here at the
orphanage. With my thoughts scattered throughout my brain, I clean up the last few stalls in a hurry.
Then I grab my warm winter coat and my old sketchbook. I am baffled and don't know what to feel
about leaving my only home, so I decide to run outside into the snow covered yard. On my first step
out, the cold air rushed against my face, giving me a short shock of coldness. I overcame the
sensation, and sat on the nearest bench. I opened my book, but I didn't know what to draw. I just sat
there, looking out into the everlasting woods. That is when I started fiddling with my monkey's paw,
the only thing I have from my parents. I don't remember them at all, since they died when I was a
baby. I still carry this paw

The Tragedy Of The Survivor
Not many people think of death as something that can be survived. After all, death is an inescapable
aspect of life for all things on Earth. There are, however, instances where death stares one in the
face and is repelled at the last moment. Whether this avoidance is right or wrong, the outcome will
have the same, everlasting effect. The survivor will forever carry that moment with them, haunted
by the injustice done to them. Robbed of the serenity that death may bring from bleak scenarios, life
becomes devoid of the vibrancy it once possessed. The survivor becomes a ghost with a physical
form, walking with the burdens of their past resting on their minds. Analyzing the events that these
people encountered with this mindset can foster a greater sense of empathy toward the survivors.
The concept of human mortality is a daunting notion that everyone has to come to terms with
eventually. This idea that the life people lead will ultimately conclude can be accepted, and is made
easier with time to digest this thought. This process though, can be taken and twisted into something
that is toxic to the mind. When someone is faced with the certainty of death and they have come to
grips with the fact that it is inescapable, it is a form of torture to take this certainty away. What this
action does is invalidate the sense of reality that has been accepted by the victim. It takes away the
feeling of euphoria that comes with the acceptance of death, the release from life's constraints.

Alive !-Personal Narrative

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