He’d never felt so alive. The dance studio that he’d spent most of his time in as a wide eyed five year old in his first pair of tap shoes was akin to his home. In fact‚ it felt more like home than his actual home‚ where his dad often teased him about his ’prancing around the stage like a bloody pony’ but he knew that his dad preferred him doing this - his passion - than on the streets at ten o’clock at night smoking glue or sniffing weed. He’d never try those. For one‚ his mother would probably
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It was true. Several of the maidens and their families left the compound as soon as the food supply became scarce. Her Master had not been outside of the home in months as his appearance became increasingly unrecognizable—even to her. It made her sad to see the man she’d grown to admire succumb to such an unexplainable illness and tragedies that surpassed human limitations. Ayala always thought that one day she would marry herself a man much like her Master… someone rich‚ handsome‚ and who
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Jen saw the dogs first‚ their short muscular bodies scudding along the pavement like torpedoes. The Brothers and their men came after‚ followed by the girl and the fat woman. The shoppers and the tourists sensed the change in the atmosphere and parted instinctively‚ allowing them to pass. Jen hung back‚ keeping close to the buildings. Daniel and Joseph Avery were dangerous; catch their eye‚ come into their orbit‚ and you would become their victim. They stalked the streets like warlords‚ their dogs
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Do you like suspense stories? If so‚ “Sorry Wrong Number” by Lucille Fletcher and “Sorry Right Number” by Stephen King are two very good suspense stories. The plot of both of the stories are centered around phone calls. Both stories center around a mysterious phone call. In “Sorry Wrong Number”‚ the phone call is about someone’s murder. And in “Sorry Right Number‚” the phone call is about a woman crying‚ she says “ Take… please take… t-t- take him to the hospital. He is going to have a heart attack
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SHORT STORY AND ITS ELEMENTS A short story is a kind of prose fiction which has grown up besides the novel and which has its own important and recognised place in literature. It may be defined as a prose narrative‚ “requiring from half an hour to one hour for its perusal.” In other words‚ brevity is the key-note of a short story. It is a story which it is physically possible to read at one sitting. But its must not be supposed that the short story is a novel on a reduced scale. It has a definite
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its scars. This short story is told from the perspective of someone obviously close to Marais because of the in depth feeling portrayed in the content of the story. As an example the narrator is talking about the effects that the accidental killing is going to have on Marais’s political and social life. Also‚ the shadow that has been caste over South Africa will continue to grow with the negative publicity an accident of this magnitude brings with it. "He knows that the story of the Afrikaner
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The short story The gift of the Magi‚ by O.Henry‚ is a story of poverty and depression and how a great love overcomes it. The conflict and the setting create the intense suspense in the story. The main conflict in the story is poverty. Della does not have enough money to buy her husband a Christmas present and Christmas was a day away. She was thinking of every possibility of how to get Jim a present. At last she decided to give up her most prized possession. In the book it says‚ “Now
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Filch fall into the deep dreams‚ He was fully sleeping and thinking about his relationship with Mrs Norris how they met. The darkness surrounded him and he was left alone in a cold place lit with dull light coming from the street lamp‚ he was sitting on a very cold road during Christmas and counting his last galleons‚ "No money‚no job‚ no family and I am 28" he thought‚ icy tears fulfilled his eyes‚ the cold and pain was killing him but he couldn’t do anything he was hopeless. The snowstorm covered
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So‚ turning on the TV‚ he turned down the sound and poured himself a full glass once he opened the bottle. As he sat in the recliner with the glass in his hand‚ he took one sip and then another before drinking the entire glass in two gulps thinking he could get a little bit of sleep if he drank just enough to get a buzz and take the edge off the nightmare. Unfortunately‚ it didn’t take a medical degree or one in psychology to know he was suffering from PTSD or that he was extremely depressed. As
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More success‚ more triumph. Why not? There isn’t a man‚ nay a soul‚ that could best me. But it is with wine that I celebrate my glory. The more the better‚ as wine is my source of comfort. I indeed celebrate with my trusted friend Montresor‚ who had accompanied me during the carnival season. Dusk lay across the land‚ and while the people cheered and laughed‚ I was mesmerized my what my friend had to tell me. “A pipe” I stumbled a bit by the news‚ unsure if I’d even heard it right. “Impossible! And
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