Creative Writing: Mr. Truman Capote's In Cold Blood

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My entire life has changed due to my kindness. Therefore, should I no longer be kind? Why offer my assistance to others if the outcome is penalization? These questions torment my mind; do I acknowledge what's happening around me, or should I just drive by? All I wanted to do was help people, and now, all I do is suffer. The morning was bleak and tinted with gray—not that I cared. I no longer had a place where I was needed, anyway. The day I lost my job was the day nothing mattered; it was as if the world had reached an impasse, and time would only flow where I wasn’t. How can someone be fired just for aiding those who need it? My thoughts have been embittered. My dreams for my family and I have been shattered. My life has become dulled. The day Mr.Truman Capote came to interview me about the murder overwhelms me with the numbing feeling of February wind. I was likely shuffling to my house trying to avoid frost from biting my skin …show more content…

I shrugged. “When you gotta go, you gotta go!” My hearty bark filled the car as Dick proudly chuckled. At that moment, I spotted a young soldier among the field and began to slow as the two boys exchanged some words. ‘Say, that’s pretty cute. When you gotta go, you gotta go...” My eyes widened in disbelief as I snapped back from the memory. I had almost forgotten that Mr.Capote was with me until I noticed him arranging his effects. “I appreciate your cooperation, Mr.Bell. I’m writing a book on the murder of the Clutter family and had been following the tracks of the killers, Perry and Dick, from even before they arrived in that innocent town,” he explained politely and he neared the door. “Oh, and don’t worry. I won’t use your real name. Good life, Mr.Bell.” The freezing wind chilled my skin briefly as the door shut behind him. I was once again alone and asking myself, should I no longer be

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