Sammy's Death: A Narrative Fiction

I woke up looking around not knowing what was going on. I looked around realizing that I was in an unknown bed. Panicking at first I tried to find my bearings, but I calmed down quickly as I watched my mother walk into the room.

I whole-heartedly agree with Sammy Caiola’s article. I particularly enjoyed how Caiola portrayed the guides at the nature center, her interviews with the parents, and how she put such a good spin on bird-watching. Caiola’s article was quite refreshing, in that it gave a certain perspective on outdoor activities with children. Who would think bird-watching would be a good idea for kids? I certainly did not and I am glad to be wrong. In Caiola’s article, she mentions a quote by one of the nature center guides that I felt was one of the more important aspects of the article; that during these monthly walking tours, the kids were implicitly learning through the not so apparent structure that the guides where providing, but at the same time it was

My legs are shaking with pain, but I need to know where I am and what strange things lie outside of that door way. Slowly I am making my way there, I hear people having a conversation just outside. I haven’t a clue what they are saying, it seems to be in some odd language. Finally I’m at the door. Terrified, I grab the knob and start to open it. It squeaks when I swing it open. In the hall I see no one, just white walls with white tile. “What the,” I say to out loud. I could have sworn I heard someone. My eye catches my room number, 387, it has my name on it. I look right and left, but see nothing expect florescent lighting and shut doors. I go to the door across from mine and try to open it. Locked, that’s odd. I try the next one, locked once again. I keep going, now at room 365 I give the knob a turn and it actually comes open. I hesitantly wander into the area. It looks the same as mine, minus the painting on one of the walls. It is an extremely abnormal painting. It depicts an out of the ordinary creature. “Why would this be in a hospital?” I whisper to myself.

So much pain, so much blood. Everything was fuzzy, people looked like splotches blocking my vision. The yelling. It’s getting louder. I look for light, but only darkness is here now. There. Under the door. I try my hardest to lift the fallen door, but a shooting pain propels up my leg so I stop. “

"ME!" I fully came to consciousness with a scream and a realisation of the cold sweat that drowned my skin and the pain surging through my extremities. I loosed

Her pseudo-father had come home with a bullet wound in his shoulder and his would-be-target hot on his tail. The girl had pulled the trigger just as he'd kicked down their front door, sending him staggering back into the cheap stucco of the hallway before slumping onto the floor. He didn't bleed out there, though; Pamela had the sense of mind to drag him inside, even if it took nearly two minutes with how large he was compared to her. The old dog was obviously thankful for her saving his life; however, once the shock had worn off and the bullet in his shoulder was taken care of, Santos could only start thinking of the

“Why am I here? What happened to me? Who am I?” Everything was happening so fast, It felt like i couldn't breathe. I began to cry.

I couldn’t believe it. I had no clue on what I had got myself into. I thought I was in a nightmare. Everything was so much larger than me. I felt like I was this tiny spec on a flower. My life had suddenly flashed before my eyes. I had a feeling that my last breath was about to par take.

Confused, shocked and fear filled my mind as I lye on my side, gasping for air, trying desperately to stagger onto my knees. A sharp pain suddenly ran up my spine into my forehead and quickly I collapsed back onto the cold damp floor inside this mangled metal coffin in which I was trapped in. Bit by bit I moved my hand closer to my forehead, trying to impede this massive throbbing that was affecting my head. I skimmed my forehead and paused my hand on a huge gash. The pain shot into my head again, but I was able to clutch on to the seat and hold my balance. There was blood pouring down the side

The checkup was doing well until the veterinarian wanted to do a blood test, but Matt had other plans. Matt took the needle and jammed it into the vet’s neck. Matt jumped the counter, smashed open the window, hauled Tim over his shoulder, and booked it to the car. He shoved Tim into the passenger side and took the wheel, Matt lasted 4 minutes on the road before he totalled the car into a tree. Matt then booked it into the woods, leaving a dazed Tim and the totalled car behind. He ran through the woods and eventually found himself in a small park, he kept running until he was tripped by a cat.

As they take the dog on a leash down to the E-room, it wags its tail and trembles in fear. Its excited for the attention, but at the same time is in fear of what he's being led to. All the dogs stop barking as they lead him down the isle. They know what's going on. One of their fellow friends is going to die, and they may be next. They place the dog on an old blanket on the concrete floor and shave off a patch of fur on his leg. The dog starts to tremble more. A tourniquet is wrapped slowly around his leg and a syringe of cool blue liquid death enters his body making his eyelids grow heavy and eventually falling limp in the arms of the employee. His heartbeat slowly dissapates and then stops. This, unfortunately, is a regular occurence in animal shelters today.

It all began when his mother, Caroline, was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer. At the time, Sammy didn’t fully understand the dire situation they were in. He couldn’t comprehend why his mother was away the majority of the time or why his father started drinking liquid from glass bottles constantly. Soon enough, it hit him. He understood his mother was dying. His mother would leave him behind and there was nothing he could do about it.

I woke up in hot sweat, well, not a hot sweat exactly, but it felt like my body was melting and my head felt quite foggy. I didn't really pay attention to much that was different about my surroundings until I heard a faint, yet gentle voice approach me from across the hall. It sounded like Phoebe but different. The voice sounded older and less pure, so it couldn't be Phoebe. Everything just felt different. I noticed the clothes I was wearing were drab. If I was at Pencey I would be shamed by the entire class for showing up in these clothes. Making the connection I realised I was in quite a small room with not much to it. There was a desk which held a mountain of papers. There was an old rickety chair, and a small dresser. Other than that

Suddenly a piercing cry came from my bedroom. I darted up the stairs following the cry of such extreme agony. I stopped in the bedroom doorway to find my wife’s lifeless body lying on the floor with a hulking figure peering over it. What at first glance I thought to be my mortal enemy was actually my second creation.

Once apon a time there a was a dog named Timmy and he had a broken leg. The reason he had a broke leg was because a semi truck hit him. It was a miracle he survived. My grandparents took him under their ‘paw’ and cared for him. The next day, my grandpa sat on Timmy’s other leg, breaking that one. He was left immobile, so I started playing with him and he slowly recovered with my help. A year later, Timmy is everyone’s favorite dog, but then, another semi truck sped down (illegally fast) our road, and Timmy was in the middle of it. The truck narrowly missed, and we never let him near the road again. Moral of the story? Don’t let your dog get hit by a semi truck, or let your grandpa sit on him (or her).