The class is meant to give students a cultural/historical perspective on death, and I would guess for many of them it’s the easiest class on their schedule.
That night I couldn’t sleep, as I heard screaming from the youngest, the female, and the distinguishable qualities of my Grandfather’s voice screaming obscenities as he clearly caused her pain for what I presumed were her evil actions.
Ever since he could remember, Jim always felt as if something terrible was right about to happen.
Travis exits the car and walks the perimeter of his vehicle to make sure there is no damage. He fails to notice the young lad under his car, and his mangled leg which he has just run over. Finding no problems, Travis gets back into his car and drives away, leaving the boy in the middle of the street.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Of course you don’t. You wanted a miracle and you got it.”
It pinged off her forehead; she gasped and started shrieking in pain. Betty always made more of a situation than was necessary.
I found it in the trash and I think I made the worst mistake of my life.
What if instead of merely highlighting the horrors of the world, our authors helped us navigate away from them?
Be careful of where you go on the internet.
I was a young female who wrote magical realism, and he was expecting pink powdery puffs of sentences, of lightness, of beauty.