Dialogue Essays: Heart Shaped Pancakes

Jeannette was 3 years old when she was hungry she learned how to make herself something to eat since her dad was always out and her mom was busy painting, she tried to make hot dogs but ended up with a burn.

(Page 2: Scene of Momma and Anna at the kitchen table with strawberry covered biscuits on their plates with a glass of milk)

Soon, Anna grew weary and strolled over and tried the door, but it was locked. Scared to be locked in a room she thought what if there's a fire? What would they do? Would they even be heard if they cried out for help? She knocked lightly and Miss Margot opened the door slowly and came into the room and placed a tray with two small bowls of split-pea soup on the mattress. Then she made them stand up and held their hands and whispered, "Children you must also remember to be as quiet as church mice." They both nodded and agreed to keep

“Hey, Billybob!” Joeybob says, excited to see his friend after a long day at work. “Want to grab some dinner at the diner?” Joeybob was famished because he was in a rush to get out of his house this morning and forgot to make himself some food and there were no “out of work” lunch intermissions allowed. They walked up to “The Cool Diner” and started to take their orders.

The smell of fresh herbs filled the air around her as the sun shone down on her back, a sense of tranquility fell upon her in the lush, backyard garden. A soft tune could be heard from inside the house where the radio played. Tante Lou hummed along to the music while she snipped off sprigs of parsley to use in the meal she is preparing for her nephew, Grant, and his guest. Today was a special day. It’s the first time Tante Lou is meeting her nephew’s girlfriend, Vivian, and she wants to make a wonderful dinner for them all to enjoy while getting to know each other.

Veronica walked into the kitchen, fresh, clean, and free from the dream of earlier. She wore only a casual outfit of jeans and camisole top. No need to dress up if she had the evening off. She brewed a pot of extremely strong coffee and ate a slice of dry toast as she waited. She never was a huge breakfast eater. She saw an open box of cereal with loose cereal pieces on the counter. She rolled her eyes as she cleaned up the mess and put the box away. The open box was one of her biggest pet peeves.

When dinner was ready Amber set the table then made the children their plate. The children were given options on what they wanted to have or not have and portions. Prior to eating their meal the family prayed and then started eating their food. The meal consisted of baked turkey chop, white rice, sweet peas and Hawaiian rolls. Both children consumed 100% of their food and also asked for seconds. Amber prepared them second plate and instructed them to clear the table when they finished.

It's late one Friday night. You, accompanied by a select group of your closest friends, drive down the interstate, wanting desperately to be at home in the warmth of your bed. Suddenly, the lot of us sees the sign. Like a beacon it is, summoning us to it like proverbial moths to a flame. Forgetting about the need for sleep, we turn onto the off ramp, a string of drool dripping down and off of your chin. "Waffle House," we say with a gleam in our eyes, "we have arrived." What follows will be one of the most important events of our adult lives: a tireless ritual continuing into infinity all across the nation's good expanse.

In the short story “The Tell Tale Heart”, Edgar Allan Poe attempts to reveal the hidden darkness in people. Although very few people resort to actions as drastic as the narrator, thoughts of murder and death have likely danced through many people’s minds. In this story, the narrator, an insane man whose mind has been affected by an unknown disease, decides to kill his caretaker. After killing the man, police come to the apartment and suspecting a murder, question the narrator. He is able to hide the body and convince the police of his innocence, but in the end, his guilty conscience forces him to confess to the crime.

Upon completion, I will ask Catherine whether she liked the story or not, what was her favorite part, and if she bakes at home with her family. To end my session, I will ask Catherine to draw picture of her favorite part of the story

inside beaming with joy; his name was Barry. “Mama! Mama! Can I go march with all of the other kids today?” exclaimed the cheerful child. The mother considered. Fiddling her textured sweater-light enough for the September month-she hesitated and made out the word “Danger.” She took a breath of air and started again, “It’s too dangerous for you to go, sweetie.” She felt guilt, she thought she knew what was best for him. Hugging his mother, he assured her that her decision was fine. Releasing from the embrace, his mama suggested going to church, and he thought the idea was splendid. “Go, and when you come back, dinner will be made-with your favorite dessert:

It was another gorgeous spring morning in Grovesdale, Pennsylvania a small cosy suburb on the outskirts of Lancaster. The sun had just started it's ascent over the brilliant flowering mountains. Trista was already awake in the farmhouse-style kitchen making pancakes for her family. It was tradition in their house that whoever was first to get up in the morning was the one to cook breakfast. She cracked the farm fresh eggs into the blue ceramic bowl and continued to mix. Trista always loved mornings and being the one to make breakfast, it gave her a sense of pride being able to cook for her family.

Moving from the car to the door, I sheathed the key into the lock and turned the doorknob quickly trying to escape the summer heat. Sounds of what was supposed to be the house alarm acknowledging my existence were muted over by whirling hot air, sizzling oil, chopping, and grating pans over the stovetop. Whiffs of fried rice and omelettes greeted me, luring me into the kitchen. The air was smoky and warm sunrays illuminated the room, creating a dazed, heavenly glow. Perched on three-legged stools before the marble island countertop sat my two older sisters, Lillian and Tracey, who were almost mirror images of each other. Both were slim, no taller than 5’2”, and had silky hair ombre-ed from black to a hazelnut brown, that softly brushed the tips of their shoulder blades, which made it difficult to tell who was who, especially from behind. They watched in excitement as their boyfriends prepared the food.

Country mornings started early, but we never needed an alarm clock. The luscious aroma of sizzling bacon got us up and moving. We 'd find Grandma huddled over the stove, fresh eggs, bubbling in the frying pan while she flipped fluffy pancakes on the griddle. And each morning, Grandma 's shiny, copper tea kettle whistled a cheery "good morning" song, mirroring the joy I felt surrounded by love.

" Penny time for school!" her mom yelled up the stairs. As she woke up groggy from the late night she had doing her homework,she smelt the crisp Autumn air slightly stinging the insides of her nostrils. She felt a warm lump near her feet as she pet her cat marshmallow on the head, and heard his soft purring. She hopped out of bed feeling lively, more than usual, and she made her way to the shower. As she brushed out her curly blonde hair it fell over her shoulder cascading down to her chest. She took a quick glimpse in the mirror to admire her hair, most people were envious but sometimes it could be a real curse. She slipped on her favorite pair if Levi skinny jeans and her favorite sweater and rushed down the stairs.