Fictional Story Essay

Anxiety washed over the poor boy. It was dark, darker than Zerdek had ever know. With each second that passed, a low mumble could be heard from the corner. Something or someone else was here with him. Wherever here was. He shut his eyes thinking about the light. Thinking about anything that would make it seem like he was back at home. Home. He tried to remember the faces. He tried to remember each of the tree top building. Yet it was a blur. Everything that had happen with-in the last few hours,

Mikey looked up to the sky for a lengthy amount of time. “What are you in for?” he asked, finally putting his head down. “I’m in here for armed robbery,” he answered. Before he could continue, he was distracted by two prison guards. The prison guards were staring at them, laughing like a family at a zoo. Then he heard sirens, but he quickly realized it was a part of his hyperactive brain. I really am crazy, he thought. “I’m sorry for asking.” Mikey looked at the ground. “Some people don’t want

It was a warm sunny summer afternoon, we were driving down a busy road when all of a suten my sister yelled, ‘’ Mom can we go to the pet store to just look at the animals!’’ my sister Maddy yelled. ‘’Sure but we are not doing to get anything’’ my mom told us. We pulled into the parking lot. We all got out of the car. I walked to the door and opened it, the first thing I saw was is a pen with a lot of puppys. All of my sisters and I walked over to the pen. ‘’Ahhh look how cute they are, They

slowly at Zayatz’s presence. “You all done?” His voice was strained. “I think so.” “You better be.” “I’m sorry.” “Just- drink this.” He reached over for the water and passed it back to Zayatz. “Forgot to give it to you earlier. I really don’t want another dead body on my hands.” Osborne pressed his forehead against the steering wheel with a sigh, closing his eyes. “I should have known this was going to happen,” he muttered. “You don’t just feed junk to someone after two months of-” He cut himself

I nodded my head deftly as he held me in his arms. He only needed one as I sat there in his grip. I almost felt like a child being held like that, sitting on his arm. “Come on you two,” he said, waving at Prompto and Ignis, before turning around. “Um…aren’t I heavy?” I questioned Gladio. “Not really, why?” He asked, following Noct a little way. The fog at this point had gotten worse. I was kind of glad that Gladio had me. It kept me from tripping over anything. “We’ve got the beast in our sights

Mikey had slammed the front door shut, fists balled at his sides. He was beyond pissed, beyond pissed at himself. He left Pete thinking he hated him, and all of those people at that business party are gonna ask him why they left so early and he'll have to bullshit his way out of the conversation. "Mikey?," Gerard peeked out of the living room his hair discheveled, hickeys lining his throat. Mikey glared until he'd realized who called his name, eyes softening almost immediatly. "I'm sorry. It was

He was tired. So very tired. His hands shook as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Eyes, once vibrant in their innocence, had dulled to a flat brown. He had died. Again. Each time he died a little piece of himself would break off, small chunks at first that had grown in size each time he fell. There was nothing left in him now. Scott turned away from the mirror, ashamed of what he had seen. There was too much damage within him. Too much that couldn’t be fixed. He wondered if he wanted to

Selina struggled to break out of her handcuffs as she cried out, hoping someone could hear her. The room was pitch black as she began to cry, trying to get out of the chair in any way, hoping the screws would bent or break. She knew it was useless, she wasn't that strong. But she wouldn't let Bruce have what he wanted so easily. She would fight him. Fight his grasp, fight everything, even if it meant letting him do it. She would not enjoy one bit of it. With that in mind, she heard the door open

person, is significant to the understanding of his notion of the “original character,” and to the understanding of his literary “original” characters. It is especially essential to the understanding of one of his most intriguing fictional characters: Bartleby. In his short story Bartleby, the

Another example of fictional film elements comes from when the cameraman perfectly records the Taliban attacking the Danish soldiers. He puts himself in danger: right in the middle of the fight. If the audience did not know any better, this fight could have been perfectly staged