*Narrative Sample Number One (Passage dated September 14th, 2012)
*Narrative Sample Number Two (Passage entitled: I Belong on the Beach)
I Belong on the Beach
By: Shelly Lopez
(Story Starter) I sat staring at the names carved into my desk, my mind already confused. My head was like a bowl of swirling soup, and in that watery substance I heard my teacher's voice droning on and on about algebra and saw all the names that had been scrawled on my desk with an electric-blue marker: Julie and John, and James and Rebecca, and Katie and Michael ... all twirling around some part of my head that felt as if it were about to leak.
Today is not a great day, even if it is Friday.
Maybe I got that impression from the moment I heard my mom's aggravating voice from a distance. I had been smiling wistfully in my sleep at Josh Farrington. I was practically drowning in his ice-blue eyes (eyes personified) that seem to hold so much but say so little. I wanted to run my hand thought his ink-black hair and brush my fingertips over his soft, sun-kissed skin and touch his cherry-red lips with my gentle hands (great detailing and imagery). But his gorgeous face faded away into nothing as I hear my mom's voice telling me to get up. Her annoying words shattered his ever-so-clear image in my head, banishing his face to a place where other unfinished dreams and fantasies roam. I groaned and rolled over. It was right then that I fell off my bed, entangled in covers in every shade of red.
Red is not my favorite color. (Repetition for Effect)
I stood up and yelled that I was awake before slipping back into my bed. Wishing sleep to come, I sat there for a minute, closing my eyes tight ... but no matter how hard I tried, Josh wouldn't pop back into my mind. I sighed, exasperated, string gloomily out my window.
And to make matters worse, the sun was glowing a brilliant gold, and the sky was crystal-blue, and the wind whispered seductively (imagery and personification). I should be at the beach, not crammed up in the house getting ready for school. I wanted to slip on a green polka-dot bikini, not a green plaid skirt. I wanted to feel the sand between my toes, not my socks bunching up in the front of my Reeboks.
But not, I had to go to school. And as I said before, I had to listen to my math teacher preach about numbers and letters and figures for forty-five minutes (hyperbole). I was tired of hearing her annoying voice lecture about "a=b divided by x." (Use of quotation) I glared at the small back hands on the clock, silently threatening them to go faster. But they didn't listen, and I caught myself wishing I were in ta bathing suit again, walking carelessly on white sand and looking down at almost transparent pale-blue water with Josh at my side ... (imagery)
I don't belong in some dumb math class. I belong on the beach, where I can soak my feet in careering water (adjective + noun) and let the wind wander its way through my chestnut-colored hair (adjective + noun) and sip Doctor Pepper all day long. I want to grip a straw all day, not a mechanical pencil that will try unsuccessfully to write the answers to unsolvable questions. The only thing that kept me from going off the deep end (idiomatically written) was the handsome hunk (adjective + noun - slang) in front of me ... Josh. His midnight-black (hyphenated word) hair and piercing blue eyes were enough to make me stay in math class till the end of time, but he was also blessed with that smile that made his eyes light up like blue-white fire (simile + hyphenated word). Then again, (use of transition) those two-inch-in-diameter dimples that appeared on the sides of his lips when he grinned also contributed to saving me from ultimate boredom.
But the beach seemed to beckon me, restlessly calling me to walk on its feather-soft sand and swim in its magical water. So I focused my eyes on charcoal-colored hair and tried not to think of anything else. He turned around suddenly, probably feeling my gaze on the back of that perfect head.
"Sorry to bother you, Sharon, but do you have another red pen? Mine just busted." (Turning Point)
At first all I could think was that he knew my name, and then as he showed me his lobster-red checking pen, red ink flew all across my pearl-white shirt. I looked down, and saw red splatter-painted all over my ivory shirt. I took a deep breath and sighed.
Red is not my favorite color. (Repetition for Effect)
Slowly I laid my head on the desk that he Julie and John, and James and Rebecca, and Katie and Michael scrawled all over the top with an electric-blue marker. (Full-Circle Ending--allowing the readers a chance to predict what will happen in the end)
"I'm sorry, Sharon. Gosh, how can I make it up to you?" (Use of quotation to get a sense of the character)
Shaking my head, I mumbled that it was all right. I looked up to show that I was okay. "Don't worry, it's just been a bad day." I poked around in my purse until I found another red pen. I handed it over to him and smiled wearily.
"I still feel kind of bad. Hey, it's Friday, and I love the beach. Why don't I take you right after school? You could relax there. The sand is super soft, and the wind seems to purr, and the water seems to cure all your aches and pains." (ocean personified) He grinned, and the two-inch-in-diameter dimples appeared.
I smiled.
No comments:
Post a Comment