Sample Short Story-Narrative Writing- Featuring Young Authors

Memory

On a windy and rainy Tuesday morning, Mary Andrew walked gingerly into the room and all eyes turned on her. She had on a red and peachy, polka-dotted dress and her bright red shoes. With every step she took her bloody red heart raced out of her chest like a racing car. Her small mind unknowingness made her had no idea what she was to expect and prayed vigorously and wholeheartedly that whatever it was wouldn’t be too traumatic.

The next morning she opened her eyes and upon two flutters of her beautifully muddy eyelids, she saw something that made her have no other choice than to release a horrifying, empathic and soul-piercing scream.

She saw dark, hazel eyes, 6ft. tall, strong man laying in her bed. She turned her back quickly looking back at her pale white stripe printed door.  Then turned around once more with great fear in her heart, hoping it was just a dream or a mistake made by her eyes.  To her disbelief this man with the great bone structure, a chiseled sexy toned body, and wavy black hair was under her red silky sheets, sleeping like a baby.  She slowly, one foot after the other, creped out of the bed.  The sheets slipped off her like water running down a wall.

The mirror which lay tiredly beside her bed showed her something else which made her quake inside. She saw her firm breast, flat stomach, curved waist, thick waist and her full nature showing as a reflection. Then suddenly the unknown male awoke with the biggest smile showing his pearly white teeth, saying, “Good Morning Sexy”.  She blazingly ran and covered her coca-cola body with the bloody red sheet and tried to run to the closest room she could find and hide there. To her dismay, she forgot to open the door to the room and hit the door falling backward.  Hitting her head on the floor upon impact, showing her brown-skinned, curved up, well-shaped body.

Upon waking up she heard her husband pulling up in the garage.  Before she could think of anything she ran and hid any evidence of another male being inside their two-bedroom apartment. Everything went quiet for a moment, fear overtook her once more when suddenly she heard the doorknob screeching with every turn and the door opened. Then she tried to position herself in a normal way, by laying head first on the bed. Then she remembered she was forgetting one thing, the unknown male sitting on her bed, getting ready to lay beside her.  She got up in a rush and pushed him out the window which was 6 ft. away from the grassy green floor. Then she ran straight back to her bed and pretended to sleep.

To her surprise, her husband came into the room, not even removing his army wear and put just ran to lie on his bed without a word. He had a sweaty smell but she paid no mind to that. She was only glad to not get caught by her ruggedly handsome and well-toned husband.  In a single moment, she gave a breath of relief but still wondered who that guy was and why he was in her bed.

by D. Burrell (CSEC STUDENT)

CSEC English A Sample Best Short Story- 2010

Question 5:        

It was the middle of the mathematics class.  Mrs Taylor  our teacher suddenly collapsed  and sprawled  unconscious  on  the  floor.     It  was terrifying.

Write a story which includes these words.

_____________________________________________________

This story is based on Question 5 above.

GRASPING DEATH

I had never been to a funeral before, as at the age of six my parents thought death was too difficult a topic for me to grasp. I‟ve heard of them though, dark, long trails of cloth glided along the bodies of weeping women who covered their red eyes with black netted hats. Then, they have a big party; I know this for myself because I stayed home when my grandpapi died when I was four. I was told to stay in my room, but the sound of the steelpan floated through my window. My granpapi was a pan teacher you see, and from then, I associated death with black clothes and party. What was sad about a party?

 

It was in the middle of the Mathematics class. Mrs Taylor our teacher suddenly collapsed and sprawled unconscious on the floor. It was terrifying. The chalk she held in her hand scraped against the chalkboard making her incorrectly tell us that 2+3=1. We sat there. None of us, being the naïve kindergarteners we were, understood this dire situation. Mrs Taylor‟s pretty hair lay knotted around her pretty face and blood seeped through her pretty pants.

 

“Mrs Taylor! Mrs Taylor!” we finally cried.

She did not move. She never slept during our scheduled naptime, so why would she sleep now.

The blood continued to run, as Corey, the oldest boy in our class ran to his mother, the Principal. Madam Collins ran into our class, but stopped abruptly at the door.

“Oh dear me,” she whispered.

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called the police.

After, she called Mr Taylor.

“Mr Taylor,” Madam Collins said in her most professional voice, “Mrs Taylor has collapsed. I believe there is something wrong with the baby.”

I had never seen a man cry either. Mr Taylor worked in the high school division of my school and he ran faster than the Olympians to my classroom.

“Maria! Maria!” he cried.

She was somewhat awakened by the shout, but she shook violently as spasms overtook her body. I think she shouted “help me,” in Spanish, before she went back to sleep.

The ambulance drove through the gate and Mr Taylor took Mrs Taylor outside even before the ambulance parked. He shouted and screamed when they denied him entry and he drove with Madam Collins to the hospital.

Ms Lassie, the school nurse, came into our classroom and told us that Mrs Taylor would be okay. She gave us lollipops – the ones you get when you fell down the stairs, and she read „The Cat in the Hat‟ to us.

Mrs Taylor didn’t come back the next day, or the day after. They continued to give us lollipops. Five days after the accident they told us that Mrs Taylor was not coming back to school. That God had taken her to dance on the streets of gold. We laughed because we all knew that Mrs Taylor couldn‟t dance and we wondered why God would make such a bad decision.

 

Two days after, they told our parents to dress us in black and send us to school. Mama didn’t want to let me, but I begged and pleaded. We hardly got to wear our own clothes to school.

I wore my long black dress to school that day. In the afternoon, we walked to a big bus and went to St Mary‟s Church. There were women in black walking through the aisles crying. Mr Taylor sat in the back whispering to himself.

“Do you see that big box?” Madam Collins asked, “Do not go by it.”

When she turned her back, we ran to the box and saw Mrs Taylor lying in it. We instantly became one of the weeping persons.

I’ve yet to understand the party of a funeral, but I’m positive my family didn’t like my grandpapi.

 

DOWNLOAD A PDF COPY HERE

 

Written by Zoie Hamilton of Washington Archibald High School (St Kitts and Nevis)

How to Write a CSEC English A Short Story

 

From his bedroom window, Harry could easily see anyone who went into the Johnson house. The Johnson house stood as a lonesome figure in the middle of the Park Way community for thirty years. Of those thirty years, Harry could remember staring out of his window at what seemed like every movement in the Johnson’s yard for at least sixteen of those years. He had seen the house transformed from a place of joy ten years ago to a lifeless shell only seven years later. The yard was abandoned and unkempt with broken bottles, flat tyres and cracked windows. When the wind blew, there was a strong stench that consistently assaulted Harry’s nostrils. It seemed like death emitted out of the Johnson’s house.

However, for the last month Harry saw evidence of life with the exit and entrance of Mary Beth Johnson from the house. She was a breath of fresh air. If Harry had been honest with himself, he would have admitted that she was the only reason why he paid close attention to the Johnson’s house over the years. To Harry, Mary Beth was a princess trapped in a dungeon (the Johnson’s home). Her jet black hair cascaded down her back in multiple curls and kissed her chocolate skin. Her eyes appeared to be midnight black; however, the truth was they were the darkest brown eyes that Harry had ever seen. Harry closed his eyes remembering the beauty of Mary Beth. He had not seen her in a few days and so once again as it was his routine he sat at his window waiting to catch a glimpse of Mary Beth on her return home. Hours passed and Mary Beth was nowhere in sight. Harry was sure he had not missed her coming home because he had not removed himself from his post all night.

As the clock on the wall struck midnight, Harry heard a deafening scream coming from the Johnson’s house. Immediately, Harry knew Mary Beth was in danger. Without hesitating, Harry rushed downstairs and quickly made his way to the Johnson’s house. His heart pounded against his chest as he rushed to save Mary Beth. He got to the doorway of the Johnson house only to find it lock.

“I am coming Mary Beth!!!” Harry yelled. He hoped that she could hear the sound of his voice and knew that help was on its way. Once again, Harry heard another deafening shriek from the other side of the door. Swiftly, Harry kicked the down in and entered the house. He had no time to waste. The door flew open and Harry rushed into the house hoping that he was not too late. In his horror, Harry found a deserted house. There was nothing and no one inside.

Harry turned when he heard footsteps behind him, hoping that it was Mary Beth.

‘Harry?!’ asked his father, “Are you okay you just rushed out of the house.”

“Didn’t you hear the screams, dad?” Harry asked confused by it all.

“No, son,” his father responded, ‘I just saw you running like a mad man’.

“I thought Mary Beth was in trouble,” Harry answered his father as he continued to search the house.

“Mary Beth?” his father looked confused, “No one has lived in this house for the last sixteen years. The previous owners were murdered just before we moved here sixteen years ago.”