The day I found out that Archer Morales killed himself, I didn’t know what to think.
I stared up at Mrs.Anderson, the slightly batty and graying-haired german teacher, with a blank look on my face, not really believing what I just heard. Mrs.Anderson sighed heavily as she took off her glasses and polished them on the front of her polyester suit. “Archer Morales committed suicide yesterday evening.” She continues. I swallowed hard as I slouched backwards in my seat, feeling the colour draining from my face. The more I thought about what she said, the more I realized that it sort of made sense.
When I first walked into school, twenty minutes ago, I couldn’t help but feel like something had gone wrong. I’d even seen bits of the staff clustered together in the hallway, their heads down as they talked quickly and quietly in furious whisperings. “Who’s Archer
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Hey, come on, you need to wake up. Hey!’’ I let out a small squeak of shock and bolted upright, looking around. As I looked around, I noticed that something was out of the ordinary. There was a tall, figure leaning over towards me across the table with a rather weirded out, concerned look in his intensely colored eyes, his lips twisted down in an unpleasant frown. Archer Morales was the one who was standing in front of me and he was most certainly not dead. He looked very much alive. Well rather annoyed, but still alive. “This has got to be some horrible nightmare that I’m having,’’ I say as I stand up and start pacing. “And you are obviously still dead and I’ll just be back in my bedroom, ready to start another boring day at our idiotic school.” “Gosh, you're weird,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’m weird? You're the one who's dead.” I said in a cheeky tone. “I think I am very much alive. What are you even doing here?” He replied. This is when I noticed my surrounding, I was in a small chinese restaurant. “Ok would you stop looking around like a idiot, I have to close it up. So get out” Archer
Is that why you’re here!” He thrashed wildly in the darkness, the bed groaning under him and the sheets hissing as he fought against them. But he was not going to be able to get to me, because his matchless coordination was gone. He could not even get up from the bed. “I want to fix your leg up,” I said crazily but in a perfectly natural tone of voice which made my words sound even crazier, even to me.
Talk to you later – Piper said, rushing to hang up and nonchalantly kept unpacking the groceries. • Hey - Alex shouted, taking off her coat, strolling to the kitchen and kissing her quickly on the lips before peaking in the bags and seeing only fruits & vegetables – I see you are serious about the
Now that Alex’s [so far lifelong] disease has been cured, he is playing out side. Some of the boys his age were playing with some round object that Alex had never seen. He went to go sit near a tree, when he sat down he found one near him. He reached over to pick it up. Being the observer he is he wrote down in his, observation note book, some facts.
The door slams shut. A dry breeze follows me into Ryan’s Fourth Ward Polls as I escape the cold October night. An eerie group of men eye me up and down as I walk to the bar for my evening dose of cognac. As I shake their stares off, an old bartender greets me. We indulge in some light conversation about the upcoming Election Day as he pours me my smooth glass of cognac.
Tobias Wolff uses an immense amount of character development in his short story “Bullet in the Brain.” Wolff begins the story by laying the foundation for Ander’s character with his temper and lack of compassion for others. The author developed the character by displaying his cynicism and mocking nature in a dangerous situation. He then builds Ander’s humanity by telling how the character’s perspective progressed from his youth and building on his love for language. Throughout the story, Ander’s character develops from an unsympathetic and unlikable man to a more complex character in his last moments that the reader can sympathize with.
But in the end, when people started to find out what really happened they started to apologize to Melinda and had more sympathy for her. On the last day of school, seniors were saying goodbye to teachers and one of them said, “‘Way to go. I hope you’re OK.’ With hours left in the school year, I have suddenly become popular.” (Anderson 197).
Presidential Murder November 22 1963, Dallas Texas, it was a like a scene from a movie, outside the skies were such a deep blue that you got lost in wondering how far out it went until a soft wispy cloud would slowly blow past and remind you that somewhere in all the blue nothingness there seemed to be something more to it. It was the middle of fall so it was warm in the everywhere the sun hit and when the wind blew it was a breath of fresh air. God himself couldn’t have created a more perfect day. Everybody in the Dallas area had come out to see President Kennedy give a speech. The streets were filled, so much so that there was no room to breathe.
No one knew what happened, all of the kids began to look around in dismay in other classrooms to see if the same thing had happened everywhere else too. It happened everywhere, adults just vanished out of thin air. The next thing that Sam saw he described like this, “Some of the girls walked in threes, hugging each other, tearing streaming down their faces. Some boys walked hunched over, cringing as if the sky might fall on them, not hugging anymore. A lot of them were crying, too.”
All of the other kids became silent and scared of Miss Fisher. On my way home I began thinking about how much I wanted to go to school earlier this morning. Now, I never want to go back. School is worse than I thought it would be. I thought of it as this fun place of learning and meeting new friends.
The cool air swoops in and out behind me as the door slams close. Immediately I feel the pressure of hundreds of eyes glaring at me. I glide my feet down the school hallway, secretly hoping that today will be different. Today I can avoid all the drama and pain. I arrive at my locker and open it, only for it to be shut a second later by the wannabee herself Ms. Amber Jones.
On a calm afternoon, Lennie looked at the river one last time before unexpectedly being shot in the head. My client, George, killed him. Yes, this was tragic :however, my client had a reason. George and Lennie were best friends almost like brothers. They protected each other's lives and reputation.
She can hear the excited whispers around her as each class files into the auditorium, can feel the thrum of anticipation running through them all-- even her, despite
I said. "Y'awake?" "Yeah." It was pretty dark, and I stepped on somebody's shoe on the floor and damn near fell on my head.” (25).
We were quite tired because we had just come back from our filling italian dinner. I was sitting in the pool when a saw a small shadow whiff past me. I quickly whipped my head around. “What’s wrong?” My mom questioned.
It was 1:00 pm when I arrived at Wanamaker Elementary School. Patiently I waited outside the door. When I was finally let inside the classroom, I was welcomed by a mixture of bright smiles and blank stares. Mrs. Stark then introduced me to the class of twenty third graders. After she introduced me to the whole class, I quietly made my way to the back of the class.