Memoirs

A good memoir would have some sort of life changing or very significant event that changed who you are as a person. Something somewhat dramatic or exciting, that can define who you are. A good memoir about yourself would be able to show people your own character by simply telling one story about yourself.

Brainstorm
- Firetrucks
- Washington Monument
- Internship
- Revolution
- Trains
- PE
- Anticipation
- Precipitation
- Mediation
- Contemplation
- Arbitration
- Mastication
- Misguidance
- Misuse
- Misunderstood
- Bro- Code
- Explosions
- Dr. Pepper 10
- Pre-School
- FIRETRUCKS

Spring

All spring means to me is that things will change, and if they didn’t I’d never die- but I would want to. Life on this earth should only last for so long. For me, that length was almost at its end. I knew I was leaving the day my doctor made it a point to tell me I needed more regular check-ups. I was ready to be united with the ones that had pasted before me. I was tired of watching everyone I loved die before my eyes. I knew it would be over soon; I felt my last thread pulling tight, ready to break, sending me into the afterlife in seconds.

I was born on June 1^st, 1926, the day Marilyn Monroe was born. I am almost 102 years old. The only family I have left is a great grandson somewhere in the east. We don’t keep in contact anymore since his parents passed in a tragic boating accident. The last thing he told me was that his family was all gone now, and he would have to start his own life somewhere far from here. He explained that he couldn’t be around any longer in case I decided to pass too. That was over seven years ago. I haven’t seen him since.

A cold breeze pierced through my slick jacket as I walked across the windy trails home. I needed to make it before the storm hit because I could not be caught in the biggest storm of this century. I found it funny because I could have been in two different storms, in two different centuries. The rain started to come and I swiftly made my way to the front door but couldn’t quite make it. I fell to the rocky ground, scraping my knees into the drive. That was the last thing I remember.

“You’re lucky to be alive, Mr. Polumbo, we almost lost ya there for a minute!” the red haired nurse said almost too ecstatically.

“ What? Where am I?” I mumbled in the loudest voice I could muster.

“You’re in the hospital, St. Judas Margret Hospital to be exact,” She chuckled lightly.

“But how-“

“Shhhhhh Mr. Polumbo. Don’t talk now, you need to get rest,” Her sweet voice turned more worried,  “Do you have any family we could try to reach?”

“No, I have no one left. Just tell the county to change its population by one.”

The door closed in the drafty hospital room. My view was of an old red building that looked like it could collapse at any moment, just like I did. Across the hall I could hear cheering and a soft cry from a newborn child. I sunk deep into the bed, feeling my muscles relax like mush. I closed my eyes-

Charles E. Polumbo: 06/01/1926 – 12/22/2027    

3 minute fictions

"Honor"-This story keeps you curious then the end, and then it hits you! I like how this writing did this because that's how I wish my stories sounded. This was the best story I read out of the three. "The Edge" was kind of the opposite. I was waiting for some big exciting thing to happen but it never came. The story is still good but it was hard for me to stay focused and interested during the entire thing. And then I became fulling engaged when I read "The Gym". It used great, short dialogue, which really brought out the two characters. A lot of dialogue like this really shows a good connection between people. You get a good feel that these two characters are really close and long time friends. The dialogue also establishes a sense that the narrator is an old student of the second character, who seems to be a boxing coach. I like that you automatically know the characters without having to read a long description of those characters.

Redemption

            I took a breath. The first fresh air I had tasted in three years. It was good to be back. Back in the world that was once my home. A place of growth and family, a place that love was found and friendships were lost. This was the real world, but it wasn’t mine anymore.

            I belonged to the government, the system, and the pit. It doesn’t matter what you call it because it was who I became. I was a man of small spaces and no necessities to live. I wasn’t use to the wide open cities, like living in the sky. People everywhere that aren’t looking to kill me, this should have felt like I was on top of this world. The worst part of being literally stuck in a rut for three years is you don’t feel encouraged to enter a new life.  I felt lazy, like if I exerted too much energy my body would crash into a pile of bones and useless organs.

            The first week of being in the cold, dark room is when you first feel like you will rot there. Then it becomes all you can do, all you feel like doing. The light outside then burns you, blinds you, makes you want nothing more than to crawl back into your own grave. But really, I am glad to be free. Complaining is not going to justify how ecstatic I am to have the feeling of a new start, new possibilities waiting for me to find and endure. This life will take getting use to just like the last one did. At least here the faces looking at me are real, not a pale figure floating by with deep, black eyes. The eyes that could search you soul to find the truth about your past and see into your corrupt future. I saw these figures in my dreams, but the dreams I feared the most were the ones that felt like real life. At first they comfort you, while you lay peacefully in the damp bed. They were an escape from the place I lived, into the happy world I once new. But once I woke, I found out this place was lying to me. That was what made me go crazy, knowing I was so close but never actually there. Another escape I used was running in place, but now I can actually run somewhere, and accomplish one goal I have been chasing for years.

            I tried to go get a job the other day, but I realized that they needed too much information that I did not posses in my mind. But then I found a place that pulled me in, like a wind forcing me to start enter. A small antique shop at the corner of two old, cobblestone paths, with one worker that seemed just like me. I took the job right away because not many people will hire a guy like me. After me and my new boss, Frank, started talking about past jobs we both pulled, and we got the genius idea to take back what was taken from us in the hole. I contemplated on how we could embark on the greatest heist of our career and came up with the perfect plan. We found information on all the spots we would have to hit the night of the take back. Capone was the main target, and we both new he would have everything important to us. I found diagrams of different “abandoned” buildings he owned. Everything was coming together. It was time to start.

Wednesday, April 23, 5:14pm:

I receive a phone call. The voice on the other side says it’s time. Frank and I started creating a puddle of sweat around my chair. Revenge is in the air.

Saturday, April 26, 2:13am:

I wake up to find myself stuck in a chair, tied like a ready to cook pig. Frank is dead by my feet. A voice is saying something, but the sound is muffled. Where am I? 

Show, DON'T Tell

I woke up laying on the ground, head in a rush. I saw two men walking away from me with my shoes in their hands. I looked at the one guys face, he was a dark man, black stringy hair and black eyes. His clothes made him look like a janitor or did some sort of dirty work. He wore a fire red hat. Three weeks later I see me shoes, moving across the side-walk. I saw the person wearing them and I new he was the one that ruined my perfect run. The pure look of his face made an anger burn deep in my soul. I felt a hate for this man I could never think of feeling. I decided to intercept him, but he recognized me before I could get close enough. I ran to him as fast as possible, tripped him and pulled the shoes off his feet. My life was complete again.

Welcome

My name is Kyle (The D.O.G MAN) Brooks. Sports are the greatest things invented in the history of this history. The San Francisco 49ers are the best NFL Football team, but they UofO Ducks are the best team to watch. Basketball is the only other good sport to watch unless you are bored, then Tennis is sweet.
Other than sports, there is not much more to my life. I like to eat a lot and hunt/fish. That's about all you need to know for now.

Later.