A Short Story : A Story?

She just flew. Collected every bit of life she had made, all the parts of her that were precious and fine and beautiful […] over where no one could hurt them” (Morrison 63). When Sethe saw the schoolteacher’s hat, she knew that there possibly could have been an unfortunate outcome for her baby. As a result, Sethe quickly thought that taking her precious child’s life was better than

An hour earlier, Sefa, their baby’s birth mother, had called Percival, crying that she was in pain and bleeding, afraid she was losing the

She pressed the child close to her and with an unmovable gaze tightened her grip on him, taking in every detail. I paused and watched. I knew that as soon as I told her, the same creamy white walls of the hospital room that once held her uncontrollable euphoria over the birth of her son, would seem harrowing and confining.

Darkness inside the cabin intensified her fear, but she didn’t dare risk a light. Long minutes crawled by before she summoned enough courage to feel her way to the bed. Drained, she curled on the bed and pulled the patchwork quilt over her head, blocking out painful memories and chilly night air. Vigorous thumps from the baby loosened the iron grip of panic. Rachel's arms instinctively curved around her belly. At first, she despised the child, but now she loved it

Someone placed the swaddled newborn against her chest. There was much frantic chattering in the background, but she blocked it all out. The last moments of her life she would spend with this soft, perfectly pink infant she had carried within her for the last nine months. He was such a beautiful creature, her baby, Arthur. It pained her to think she had only a few heartbeats left to breathe in his delicious, powdery scent, and stroke his flawless cheek.

How if I hadn't killed her she would have died and that is something I could not bear to happen to her. When I explain it she'll understand, because she understands everything already” (236). Sethe owns the action of providing “safety,” an ambiguous word, to Beloved, even claiming the infanticide as a carefully decided and intentional act. Sethe’s account draws attention to her own actions and power in this scene, as “I put her...,” “I won’t…,” “I’ll explain...even though I don’t have to,” and other phrases all proudly feature her strength and freedom of choice at that moment by emphasizing her perceived control of the situation. Even in her own unfiltered stream-of-consciousness, Sethe deeply believes her actions to be rational rather than borne out of fear and passion.

Valarie had become hot and distressed, almost afraid, so afraid. How could she be afraid of this tiny baby lying beside her? It called to her natural instinct,

“Let me through!” The erratic mother screamed, pushing through the barricade of bodies. The spike stunned her to the ground, it could not be. “No…” it was that broken whisper that pulled Lourdes out of the

Jinyoung sat with his legs beneath himself in front of his small table not tall enough to reach his knees. He was tired from working all day at his numerous low paying jobs. Even the bright lights of Seoul were still too dim to light up his cluttered yet empty kitchen. He slumped back down, now imperfect posture, as he stared at the pile of bills in his hand. Tears threatened to leak from his eyes until he heard his daughter Rosé enter the room, quickly he hid the papers and presented a smile on his face.

James told him they were negative. Edwin dropped him off at the corner of Karen’s house. James got out the car and said he’d wait until she returned home. “Man are you’re crazy, there are a lot of “sliders” you can get some play from.” said Edwin “I’m not about that no more, man it’s time that I become focused in my life.” “All right call me if you change your mind.” “Bet it up man.” Then James walked over to the park across from Karen’s house. Edwin drove off

The girls peered through the window watching the worn SUV crunch down the gravel driveway. Their family has gone into town for the day, but the girls decided to stay at the cabin.

There Liam was, watching the timer count down 6,5,4, he heard it laughing and saying “you will never stop me!”

Morning light, the natural alarm clock that tended to slap people into the reality that the safety of sleep was gone and the hell of morning had arrived. This morning felt like all the others, bright and way too early for Naomi to deal with. She tried to roll back over and go back into the safety of her dreams, but the light of the day was tugging at her eyelids to the point where she had to submit and open them. Looking around her humble room, nothing seemed out of place until she had fully woken up. The only thing out of place in the room was her, this wasn’t her bedroom but, she didn’t know what her room should look like. She knew that something was wrong and for the life of her she could not figure out what was wrong. She quickly looked around and was thankful to find a mirror that would allow her to fully look herself over while she racked her brain, which was still waking up for the day, for information about what happened the night prior. In the mirror she focused on her face, it was definitely her face with it’s dimple on the cheek and the bags under her eyes. Her eyes were still the familiar shade of brown that, in the light, looked like gold and other metallic hues had made their way into her irises. Turning her head from side to side she checked that she still had her two ears and felt her hair slide over her shoulders with each flip, the muted gold locks floated effortlessly around her shoulders as she grew more confused. She wasn’t restrained and she

Wind brushed her hair softly as the smell of the sea gave a nice aroma in the air. The girl looked down angrily as her mom placed her bags in the soft sand. “Mom, you cannot seriously let me stay a month at the unknowns of the sea with these people! I don’t even know them!”, the girl cried, her voice a bit shaky from anger she kept inside. The mother shot a glance at her daughter after waving to the nice people who offered to take her daughter on a free trip to the beach, “You know Cassie”. The girl with red grape like hair looked back over at the other girl and her family, they were about four years apart in age difference and had hardly ever talked since bumping into each other at a school trip. “Mom, I don’t know her. I know her name but that’s it! C’mon let me go back home with you and dad!”, the troubled teenager pleaded as she reluctantly followed her mother towards the others.

“Mom!” Shouted Olivia. “I want to talk to you about when I was little. I have so so many questions to ask you. What was the first word I said? What age did I start walking?”