Airabelle's Narrative Fiction

The protagonist was a deaf-mute writer Madison, who lived in an isolated house inside a forest. After her friend and

When the had gotten to the group the beast had struck again sending more of a fear throughout the group tearing them apart into two groups. But one child believe that there was no beast the child was

“Whoa!” In the corner or her eye, she could see that the boy had tensed up along with throwing his hands out defensively,” No! Not even-”

The author uses the narrative style of writing in this text. Narrative non-fiction is character-driven storytelling. Steve Lillebuen firmly believed that the victim, Johnny Altinger, deserved to be a major focus in the text. The author focused on how he lived including his tragic death. Narrative requires more research than traditional reportage, for writers cannot simply tell what they learn and know; rather, they must show it.

Jhorlia had reach the gateway, a long obelisk stylized portal switch swirled with fel green energy. Several humanoids floated above, they didn’t look like an orc or a draenei. Definitely not one of the Azeroth races, likely one of the enslaved races from some world. Not that she cared, they were fuel for the fel portals. Behind the portal was a fel scarred land of a previous conquered world.

As Lance descended into the sewers, the metal bars that barely passed for a ladder did nothing to improve his mood. The rubber tread on the bottom of his leg kept catching awkwardly, causing him to jolt and nearly lose his grip. He jumped the last couple of rungs, landing on the cement platform with a dull thud that echoed around him. His leg popped in protest, and Lance reminded himself to be gentler on his prosthetics. He didn’t need them breaking on him.

Under the bed, collecting dust along with the array of miscellaneous items, a monster hides. It waits for the parents of the young child to shut the door, and proceeds to haunt the child giving nightmares which last for days. In the woods and alleys, among the disarray of trees and buildings, a different monster lurks. It waits for a child to wander in to explore the real world at its own risk, and haunts the child. As the child grows older, the monsters come out from under their beds and from the behind the woods and buildings and attaches to them, becoming a part of their lives.

She lured them into her delicious house made of desserts. The children were so excited about the house created by pure sugar that they did not pay attention to the witch’s intentions.” “The witch planned on eating the children after she ate every last piece of them all because they were not aware of their surroundings.” Ollie and Oscar began to laugh as loud as twenty sirens. “Oh Odette, don’t be paranoid, that story is a fib.” So Odette listened to Oscar and Ollie and began to sing once again. A few hours passed by and Odette had completely forgotten about her worry. Suddenly, Smokey ran up the tree quietly, but in a hurry. Smokey gulped Oscar and Ollie up in one bite. Before he could get to Odette who was sitting on the far end of the branch, she saw him and took flight. Odette said, “I knew I was right, I should have paid attention to my instincts and looked around better.” Odette found another tree to sit on, crying for the loss of her friends. But Odette didn’t realize that Smokey’s feast was not at an

"Let us talk in my office Marcello." They went back to the office and Marcello begin the conversation.

I was so pissed off I could barely see. All I wanted to do is talk to my best friend Hazel, she always knows what to say to make me feel better. When I get angry, I cry so right now tears were streaming down my face even though I didn't want them to. I pulled out my gold iPhone 6 Plus and went to my favorites and tapped Hazel's name to call her.

Before he opened the door to the ritual room he turned toward Andrew and told him. “And I see that fire in her Mother’s eyes.”

The voice drifted into the man’s consciousness, forcing him to open his eyes. Blinking he forced himself to focus on his surroundings. Strapped to the passenger seat he dangled across the cab, hanging into the driver’s side, which had mostly been torn away by the wall the vehicle was against. No, not a wall, the ground. He shook his head. The vehicle was on its side, crumpled with windows smashed and scattered across the cab. Blood was dripping past his face too. He reached up to the pain throbbing through his head and touched something sticky. Pulling his hand away coated in red he realized where the blood was dripping from.

Pa died that night. I can’t remember what time, all I know is that it was past Jessica’s bed time. I stopped crying around sunrise because I knew she would be getting up soon. I walked away from Pa’s cot and started a fire in the wood stove, and began making Jess her breakfast. I got out the good stuff, bacon and eggs and toast, I thought the occasion warranted it. We had more rations than we needed anyway.

Finished with the Heiress's body, the Head of Security recovered his breath and peered down at Lexi. The Socialite may not have climaxed a third time, but he'd gathered from the manner in which her body had writhed and bucked that she'd be unable to deny to herself any sensation of pleasure, and her response had so aroused Karl that he'd swiftly withdrawn from her ass, and moved to his feet to coat her in his seed.

Those words, he doesn't have a mother or skates. Such an innocent child lying to me was shocking. Echoes in my mind, I couldn't believe it. Asking for him I went crazy, I stressed out looking for him. Jerry was missing and we couldn't find him. My flight leaves in an hour and I'm still here waiting, searching for Jerry.