Short Story Essay

of Ka’s Father “Scars are stories, history written on the body [sic]” Anonymous. In the story “The Dew Breaker” the narrator is Ka, a girl who created a sculpture inspired by her father. Her father is an older man from the country of Haiti, who has a scar on his face, from what Ka believes he had got from falling off the bed and onto the floor. As the story continues, Ka learns the truth about her father’s scar and all the history behind it; which is a much darker story then she had…

Adventure to Laura’s Tower The hot, muggy and stagnant air that, on some days, leaves one breathless and immobile in the mid-summer of Berkshire County, had finally been extracted. Soothing winds and scents of the damp autumn had begun earlier than usual. The trees, which had covered themselves in golden and scarlet, were completely still that morning in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. My boyfriend, Pauly, and I had decided it was a flawless fall day to go on an adventure. As we arrived at the…

The Story of Pvt. Mason When I was being interrogated by an unknown person that had a strange deep voice that was scary. As I was being interrogated by this unknown man or women I was having flashbacks of the Vietnam War. The more this person interrogated me the more flashbacks I would have. By then the year was 1957 I was fighting for the U.S.A. I started off when I and my partner Lt. Rodgers were stationed in Vietnam. We were stuck behind enemy lines as we were stuck in a small wooden shack…

Gavriel, who raised cheers for the Army at the Mosul meeting of July 11th, went out to plead for the Assyrians. He explained who he was, and said that his nephew, Ezra Effendi, had long been an officer in the Iraqi police. He showed his nationality papers, but these were torn in pieces before his face and he was shot in cold blood. A priest named Ismail who had taken refuge in the police post was driven out by the police, a rope was tied round his neck and he was kicked down the steps and…

Susan Boxwell was honest to a fault, which is why she currently hated her job. Today, like yesterday, like all the other days since the war had begun a young soldier had died on her operating table. With a heavy sigh she did the mandatory cleansing rituals to make herself clean and presentable to the anxious family. Ten minutes later she left the operating theatre with droplets of soldier blood on her hands. The family stared at her intensely as she stepped into the waiting room, their entire…

16 weeks earlier- The 76th of Mythr “Come on Lyre,” the blonde haired Lizbeth whined, “we are going to be late if you don’t tame that unruly lions mane of yours and get your Steamer butt moving.” Lizbeth Baker was definitely well endowed as a women, it was hard for most to tell that she was a Steamer at first glance. Her skin was flawless, her hair unburned, and her hands had not a single callous. She had inherited her mother’s looks but her father’s gift. You see her mother was a mage, a…

Sean’s welcoming, protective muscular arms and rose tattooed chest; when she got to know him, his heart and his face were cold, like death on a winter's night, arms no longer welcoming and protective but hurtful and ominous. His rose tattoo was a story that she would’ve never wanted to read if she had known the tragic ending from the start. She heard a door slam, and every pretense had fallen. The facade I had no idea that Sean was playing on me for so long; dominos they had shown the world…

I saw Robert opening boxes on a cart out on the floor. I walked up to him and he grinned at me and said: Hello, do you need something? I asked: Where are the olives? He said: They are over here. Robert led the way several aisles over where he pointed out the product on a shelf. I said: Thank you and he said: You’re welcomed. At the Hot Bar, a young man helped me with a sample. He was a Caucasian male about 17 years old, 5 feet, 11 inches tall, his long red hair stuffed under a hair net. He was…

Based on a True Story... Impatiently waiting for the mail carrier to deliver your JewelScent Classic Candle. Not being able to find a pair of scissors because you're too flustered and excited, so you borrow your toddler's fork from their lunch (they always end up using their hands anyways, so it's fine). The box is open! Passionately remove the candle, raise it to the ceiling (it's a well earned trophy) (JK, you're just trying to search for the exact location of your new ring). Smell your…

Vern Mason arrived at Shepherd’s Bend at exactly two o’clock. He knew this because five minutes prior, he had fumbled in his coat pocket and inelegantly opened the stop-watch that belonged to his father, and his father before him. Edgily, he tapped his thumb on the dusty glass that protected the tiny hands ticking in his palm. There was no shade in the rocky terrain that sat above the bend, and the Arizona sun hammered down on his back. What time the man would come, he didn’t quite know. He…