I wrote this to make an F go away on a Sign Language test last semester . I hope you enjoy . I you have any ideas let me know . deaf _ narrative _ body . doc ( 24 . 58 K ) When I heard someone had passed away , I looked around for a light or something to let me know the soul was gone . When I was a kid I asked my grandmother : where does a soul come from ? To which she replied , and for me this was answering a question with a question , God . I tried to stop it , but I cried when I heard about the death . I was confused why I would do such a thing , and I vowed to write a story called , diary of a space pilot 's wife , or the widow 's memoir . The storyline would go like this : A woman , madly in love , is impregnated by her partner . The day she discovers urine laden with progesterone she gets word of her partner 's incineration over Titan . At 744 million miles from Earth , he was a theoretical father for twelve seconds . When I had failed to see a light , cried and so on , I went back to living . It wasn 't until my own death that I would feel lucky about that . At any rate , I went back to thinking and breathing . Breathing , I 've learned , is more beneficial than thinking . If I could go back I would spend more time breathing . There is a man sitting in his living room doing some work that he brought home from the office . While his mind is focusing on his work , it is of mere mechanism and he follows through as if one on an assembly line . It is the type of automatic movement that requires little trained repetition to facilitate the reflexes to get the job done . This man , about forty , sits in his plaid green and red chair , with a midnight blue background . His stellar brown rimed glasses resting on the crown of his nose comfortably , he sighs deeply no longer needing to think about his work while he toiled away . He thought , I have so much work I won 't even be able to watch my movie later . His eyes wondered to the pen in his hand , engraved was his name , Arthur James McNaughten . James had this finely crafted utensil made for himself last Christmas , and oh what a wonderful Christmas that was . About two years ago James had started a movie night for himself every Sunday . He would think about it all day leading up until that final moment where his scheduled movie was to take place . He would spend the beginning of his day at the market buying fresh pop corn and a few chocolate delights , on this day he selected chocolate covered pretzels , his favorite . This was before he realized that he had far too much work to do before work Monday and that he wouldn 't be able to follow his usual routine . He realized this , oh course , after he rented , " Villains and Seductresses , A Story of Hidden Empire " . James would have to forgo his movie of heaving bosoms and ghastly men marching here and there . As he continued to look at his pen , James felt like a very important person . Too busy to enjoy leisure time , he felt like he must be engaged in some crucial task of humanity . This is the one I turned in for class . Enjoy , and please , don 't get mad . Everyone takes things from their lives and makes stories . Nighttime2 . doc ( 41 . 98 K ) I wasn 't really sure what topic to post this under but I was wondering if we could kinda get a book club / reading list thing going on . I find that the best books I read are the ones that are passed on by others . So i suppose i 'll start - He was a self - made man . Always poorly paid for his back breaking labor . He never received rewards for his accomplishments ; a stranger 's smile would cleanse him of his darkness , but fat chance of that happening in this city . Odd jobs and pawn shops have not suited him well for living amongst the orderly . This man silently victimizes himself ; he is a casualty of the population , one of the lost who goes unnoticed , prey to the government , his strain never released . His pants are splattered with white paint , all the way down to his work boats , under his nails there is year old grime , he will be burried with this same filth on his hands . Graying hair slick and pulled back , leathered and tattered is his face , without a fleeting glimmer of happiness . He thinks , " maybe I will go down town , pick up a gun , and this can all be over . " She was a woman sitting at a table in an off - hand café waiting for her coffee . Legs aching , too many bags to carry more than ten blocks at a time , she sighed and committed herself to these moments of leisure . The years had started to add up on this woman , the men , the children , the jobs . It was hard for her not to desire , salivate , to the very notion of life being over . God , it would be such a relief she had never known . There would be no one above her controlling her existence and no one under here demanding it . No more children to make her feel guilty at every break , she would not need to be spending her every hour for the betterment of others . But it was not time yet for this woman to go . She did not need to ponder over these obligations , hazards of life ; the young man of a waiter promptly places her coffee on the table . Now is the time for peace she thinks . Glancing around , searching for an object to rest her eyes on she notices a man staring out the front window into oblivion . Just then , he gets up , looking slightly crazed and walks out of café wearing an eerie smirk . The man must have been so dazed that he left his wallet , the kindly woman , wishing for good karma , quickly dashes to his table , picks up his wallet , runs out of the café , yelling for the waiter to watch her things . She looks in his wallet and is able to yell the man 's name . He was just about to cross the street when he distantly heard a woman yelling his name . Who could possibly be yelling his name with such a strong voice ? He didn 't know very many women ; for sure none that would say his name like that . I drove because I did not know what else to do . I woke up Monday morning , stuffed some clothes in a bag and threw the bag into my trunk with an old tent and sleeping bag that were my father 's . I went to the store and bought matches , lighter fluid , two gallons of water , and several cans of soup . I did not call in sick at work or ask my mother to pray for safe travel . I drove with money in my wallet and left my cell phone on my dresser , because tomorrow was another day and I did not want it to be . And now as I rounded the curve of a battered stretch of asphalt in Tennessee , where a green sign said in white letters " ANNE 4mi , " I saw a place to stop and stretch my legs . The road ran between a face of rock on my right and , on the left , I had a view of rolling mountains covered in trees of yellow , red , and orange . Here an overlook pushed out of the side of the mountain . I parked , turned off the car , and got out . Stretching , I looked over folds of forested hills under a sheet of blue streaked with a few fading white clouds , and the early sun , somewhere behind the mountain , cast a shadow over me and into the valley . A breeze blew so I pulled my jacket tighter and crossed my arms . Far off , a car , a speck , rose slowly up the side of one of the larger hills to the west . I stood , looking out as the shadows drew slowly back . I thought of my sister . Jessie and I were our parents ' only children . She was a year and a half younger than me and a clear six months smarter . Our parents ' were by legal standards in poverty but we always had food and clothes , even if some of it was given to us by the Baptist church . We lived in a single - wide trailer on an unpaved road in Clay County , Florida , ten miles south of Jacksonville , surrounded by thick pine woods . Summers found Jessie and me either in our living room behind opened books or outside sweating with deep scratches on our hands from picking blackberries . A cold , tea - stained creek flowed about a half a mile behind our yard and we would take off our shoes to cool our feet . Sometimes we sat on tree stumps and made up stories about homeless children living in the woods . They would dance in the woods at night but hide in the day , so that they were not a bother to anyone and no one a bother to them . We stayed out until our mother called us in for dinner . Our father pulled out his guitar every evening and Jessie used to move her feet in time , spin , and clap like nothing else mattered . She was awkward in her dance but she kept at it anyway , until we were all laughing and it was time for bed . During the fall and spring , my sister and I caught the bus to school about a fourth of a mile from our trailer , where a paved road passed by ours . We were eager students but Jessie 's grades always excelled whereas mine were only slightly above average . Once , on our way back from the bus stop after school , I gave Jessie a black eye when she pushed me for saying one of her classmates was her boyfriend . I tripped , scraping my knee , and flung my arm at her . I was surprised by my strength . Jessie ran home ahead of me crying and I tried to sneak around behind our house into the woods . My mother caught me though and dragged me inside by my shirt - sleeve . She sent me to my room and grounded from anything but school and homework for two weeks . But it was much worse seeing Jessie 's left eye puffed and swollen . Except for that and a few small arguments , I never fought with my sister . Eventually , my parents found better jobs and we moved to a small house near our grandparents , north of Jacksonville . As we grew older , our father started to take us to the mountains for a week every summer . I learned to appreciate the rolling landscape much more than the flatness of Florida . An hour had passed on the clock in my car , and the sun was well above me , when I got back in and turned the key . The engine choked but would not start . I tried again and got the same . Cursing , I opened the door , pulled the lever to release the trunk , and walked around to look under the hood . But the Ford was foreign to me . I walked back around , sat , and tried the key again . Still nothing . I closed the door and rolled down the windows . Despite the breeze outside it was warm in the car . Leaning my head back against the seat , I noticed a figure walking up the road , a man . As he came closer I could hear him whistling . I turned and looked at him . He wore a straw hat over white hair and a beige suit - vest over a faded green t - shirt with jeans and moccasins . When he came next to my car he leaned down with his hand on the roof and said through the passenger - side window , " Hey there . Car don 't work . " " Mind if I try , " he said and he reached across me to turn the key before I could answer . The engine turned and roared . " Seems fine to me . " I coughed , put the car in drive , and headed off . I said , " Thanks , " and he turned and looked at me as if waiting for something . " For the car . Thanks . " " Try lookin ' in the woods some night . The Mountains of Nowhere 's a good place to find what you ain 't sure you 's looking for . Go lay ' neath them trees at night . You remember that , hear ? " The road wound slowly around the curves of the mountain , upward for a few miles and then down , until a small group of buildings was visible at the foot . I could just barely glimpse houses on the distant hills and a few snaking breaks in the trees , each road seeming only to serve a single home . I kept driving and Sam remained silent . The graveled lot grated under my wheels as I pulled off the road . I parked beside a Chevrolet pick - up , with patches of rust spreading over faded blue paint . The building was constructed out of weathered brick , grown with vines and fungus but otherwise devoid of decoration . Two concrete tables with flat benches sat in front . I turned off the car and stepped out on to the gravel . The corner of my eye caught a sudden gray movement and I turned to find a cat watching me closely . Sam went into the restaurant and the cat ignored him , but when I stepped forward its back arched and its tail stood straight . I hesitated but continued toward the store . I was a few feet from the door and the cat hissed . I paused and it kept hissing for a moment before it ran off around the side of the building . I opened the door and found the floor an inch lower than the doorframe , but I caught my stumble . Inside , the restaurant had three booths and a bar with six stools . Sam was sitting on one of the stools and talking to an old woman behind the bar who was pouring coffee into a ceramic cup . They continued this way for a while , as Sarah placed a steaming bowl in front of me , and Sam once or twice pulled me into the conversation . I said little but " yes " and " no . " I had finished the coffee and taken a few spoonfuls of stew , when Sam said he wanted to enjoy the mountain air and he went outside to sit on one of the concrete benches and drink his second cup . I finished the bowl in silence while the old woman wiped clean tables and dishes with a damp rag . The broth was something like a warm bath . When I finished , I pulled out my wallet . " Well , used to be a man run one about ten miles up the road . ' Tween them two yonder ridges . " He pointed . " Went out of business though , long time ago . Just packed up and left . Ain 't no one round here gonna mind if you spend the night there . Ain 't no one owns it , if anyone can own a mountain , anyways . " I drove my car up to the gas station right across the street and filled my tank . The pump was old fashioned and the gas was very cheap . The old man who worked there took the money like it was a prodigal son . He said nothing , all grunts and nods , and I thanked him and pulled my car over to the motel a few buildings down . I was yawning as I walked into the office , and two bells jingled above the opening door . There was a dying potted plant in the corner of the cramped room and no one behind the counter at first . Then an obese man , wearing a white tank top and jeans , rushed into the room from a door in the back , breathing heavily . He looked at me with his head tilted slightly and said , " You want a room ? " I nodded and got out my wallet . He took my money , gave me a key on a ring with a yellow tab , and told me it was the third door . I thanked him , and walked out to the room , which I found to be very small ; an end table with a lamp , a greenish arm chair , a frameless mirror on the wall , a single twin - sized bed , and a closet - like restroom . It was very clean though . There was no television so I went out to my car , found a book , and brought it back inside . I sat down on the bed with my back against the wall ; there was no headboard . I opened the book and stared at the pages without reading . I put it down and pulled my sister 's photograph from my wallet . It was her high school senior portrait and she had her light brown hair cut just above her shoulders and curled slightly at the end . She smiled wide and I could almost hear her laugh . I set the picture down and lay back on the bed with my hands behind my head . My mother and I were laughing that day . It was July , and the rain was starting to let up outside , but I do not remember the joke . I was enjoying an easy summer away from my classes at a community college near home . Jessie was away at university in Alabama and would be joining us next month . Mom and I were laughing and playing cards , when the phone rang and she got up and walked into the kitchen to answer . " Hello … This is she … Yes , is she okay ? … What happened ? Is she okay ? … What ? … What ! ? " I stood and watched through the doorway . Her eyes were wide , hands shaking , " Oh , God . My God . Is she okay ? Is she badly hurt … Oh , God … Yes … Yes … Alright … Bye . " She was standing straight and still , her breathing a bit too measured and her eyes fixed on the blank wall . I went to her , put my hand lightly on her shoulder , and she fell against me , sobbing . I ushered her into the living room and sat beside her on the couch , my arm around her shoulders . Several minutes passed before I learned what had happened . The next several days were hospital visits , meetings with police and attorneys , counseling , and my mother crying . The first visit with Jessie in the hospital , I went together with my mother and father . Jessie 's left eye was swollen shut and she had bruises on her right cheek and upper arms . We sat in wooden chairs by her bed and spoke in short phrases . Jessie said nothing but nodded and looked out her window at the overhanging branches of a tree . Mom put her hand on Jessie 's shoulder and she flinched slightly . Mom said we would get through this together , it was not her fault , and we loved her . Jessie and I both watched a cardinal land on one of the branches of the tree , bright red in the sunlight . The next day I left Mom in the waiting room , asleep , with a few of Jessie 's friends from the university . I wanted to see her . As I turned the corner to the hall where her room was , I heard her shout , something clattered on the floor , and a nurse walked briskly from the room . I stopped and stood for a moment . Then , I turned and went back to the waiting room . Charges were pressed . The man was one of her classmates with whom she had begun to develop a friendship . He drove her home that night and would not leave . At a hearing I watched Jessie answer questions but she broke down and was led out of the courtroom . The evidence was clear enough . After conference with his attorney he eventually pled guilty and was sentenced to several years in prison . I wanted a monster in the defendant seat ; cold eyes and face full of indifference . This man had short , dark hair , bright eyes , and a clean - shaven face , somber if not distraught . In another setting , I might have shared a beer with him and talked about football . He was anyone . In fact , he looked a bit like me . Mom asked Jessie if she wanted to come down and stay with her for a few weeks or as long as she needed . Jessie said she wanted to get back to school . We spent a few days helping her organize counseling and get back into her routine , but eventually we went back to Florida , back to work , back to school . Weeks passed and she rarely answered her phone . When she did we talked about classes , books we had read , and movies . Two months passed and she stopped answering . Neither Mom nor I had heard from her . We called a friend of hers , who had not seen her for a few days . She had not shown up for counseling for a week . Then we got another phone call . Jessie had been found dead in her bedroom with an empty pill bottle beside her where she lay . I had propped Jessie 's photograph up against the lamp and was lying on my side looking at it . Three years . I had finished college and found a good job . My life kept moving without me . I stood up and walked to the mirror . He was no monster , just a man . Any man could have done it . Any man could do it . I clenched my teeth , made a fist , and thrust it forward . The mirror cracked cleanly down the middle . I held up my hand and watched blood trickle from my knuckle down the back of my hand and forearm . Then , I washed my hand in the sink and got some toilet paper to hold on the cut . I lay down and eventually fell asleep . In the morning I left the room key on the office counter because there was no one there to receive it and I wanted to get going quickly . I got in my car and drove away from Anne toward the mountains Sam suggested . The road became increasingly rough as it wound between hills . The two ridges stood like a giant gated walls in the distance . At first a few dirt roads turned off but after a few miles there were no more . The road sloped gradually downward for a while , then it was flat for five or six miles , and then it started to climb upward again . Trees thickened around me and soon I drove in the shade . I came to the top of on hill where the trees receded slightly and I could see the paved road curve sharply off to the left just before it reached the ridges , and a smaller road rose up between them . In a few minutes I had reached the small road and I turned onto it . It was unpaved and overgrown , little more than two old tire tracks running on either side of tall grass . I drove slowly up the sloping path until the ridges towered over me on either side . Behind them was a shorter , but wider mountain . The road dipped down and then sharply up and around the side of the mountain . The trees were thick and the noontime sun pushed only dim light through them . Soon , I came to an old wooden sign . The paint was nearly gone but I could just barely read " Jake 's Campground . " I drove by it and off to the left was a ruinous building with the wide trunk of a fallen tree pushing through the roof . The windows were gray with dust and a short driveway was grown over with weeds and grass , high enough to reach my knees . I drove on . There were a few camps sites where old circles of ash were just barely visible , and each had a rotting wooden picnic table beside it . I picked one at random and parked my car on the road , getting the tent and other supplies out of the trunk and setting it all down beside the ash pit . I heard running water nearby . I found an empty water jug , which I had been drinking from and refilling since I left Florida , and I walked toward the sound , dry leaves crunching beneath my feet . Just a few feet away the ground dropped off . The slope was steep but manageable and a few bare faces of rock gave me footing . At the bottom , I found a small clear brook . I set the jug down and knelt beside it , cupping my hands into the water and drinking from them . The water was ice cold . By the middle of the afternoon I had set up the tent , gathered a large pile of wood from the surrounding underbrush , and was coercing a fire into life . Much of the wood was slightly damp so I used a few squirts of lighter fluid to get it going and then set the aluminum can several feet away . The fire took and grew slowly . When it died back down to bright red embers I removed the label from a can of soup , pulled of lid , and placed it on the fire . When it was bubbling I wrapped an old t - shirt around my hand and took the can from the embers . I poured the soup into a paper coffee cup I had from the road and I drank it slowly . It was not Sarah 's stew , but it was good . That night I slept uneasily under a sleeping bag inside the tent . Every time I felt sleep begin to take me , something startled me awake ; the rustling wind through the trees or the call of an animal somewhere far off . However , it did not seem long before the dim light of morning glowed through the sides of the tent . And then I heard the crunch of leaves outside . I unzipped the tent and stepped out . And there was Jessie dancing . Here in front of the smoke of a dying fire , while early dawn fell blue through the trees , she danced . And there were others like her , beautiful children , dancing . No music but the rustle of wind through the trees and the rhythm of my beating heart . They danced separately for a while and then came together in a circle around the smoking fire pit . Jessie held out her hand and I took it and another 's and I danced . We were smiling and laughing and the rhythm grew stronger and we danced faster . I looked at Jessie and she squeezed my hand and I smiled . The rhythm increased and we dance faster still . Faster . Faster until we all fell and lay on our backs laughing and gasping for air . I wiped sweat from my forehead with one hand while Jessie held the other tightly . When my breathing slowed and my heart found its pace , my sweating skin grew cold in the morning air . I sat up and everyone was lying with their arms wrapped tightly around them , but they kept laughing anyway . I let go of Jessie 's hand and went to the fire . There was wood at hand so I took it and laid it on top of the embers . I took a long stick and stirred the glowing ash . The fire took . It grew slowly and I threw on more wood . They were all sitting up now staring at the orange flames , whose light danced on their faces . I smiled but they did not . The faces faded from blank to frowning . I added more wood to the fire and it grew even more . Still they did not smile . Their eyes went from the flames to me and they all stood suddenly . One of them began to back away and they all followed one by one . One turned and began to run and they all did the same . I turned and Jessie was still standing there . Her eyes were wide . I stepped forward and she stepped back . I put out my hand and she stepped back again . She turned away from me and I reached forward and grabbed her arm . She tried to shake off my grip but I took her other arm . She shook again and I held her tighter . She pulled away and I pulled back . And then I felt my heel snag a root sticking out from the ground . I let go of Jessie and fell hard on my back . My body was pounding from head to foot and I could just barely hear her feet crunching the leaves as she ran . My vision was all white spots which faded gradually . I felt warm all over at first and then the warmth faded , but not around my leg . I could smell lighter fluid and I started to feel pain in my left calf . I looked down and the end of my pant leg was bright with fire . The smell of burning hair hit my nostrils . I stood and shook my leg violently but lost my balance and fell again . I rubbed my leg across the ground but the fire did not go out . The pain took all of my leg as the fire crept up slowly . I dug into the ground and threw dirt onto it but it would not die . I rolled and rolled . My heart and head were pounding and the pain enveloped me . I rolled and my leg was fire . And then I felt my body rolling faster , downward , and I could not stop . Roots and rocks buffeted my body and my leg still burned . I came to a sudden stop and could hear the water running just a few feet away . I dragged myself over to the brook , despite the pain that covered me , and I thrust my leg into the water . I sat up , and looked down , and pulled my leg from the brook . The fire was extinguished but the bottom half of my pant leg was all black . My body ached and throbbed all over . I pulled the cloth up and as it brushed my skin it stung . My calf and shin were bright pink , the hair singed or gone altogether , but the burn was only superficial . I stood slowly keeping my weight on the right side . My head went suddenly light and spots filled my eyes again . I held out my arms to balance myself and the spots faded . My head cleared . And there was Jessie standing before me across the brook . Behind her in the trees were all the children , watching , waiting . And Jessie spoke to me . Jessie stepped across the brook and threw her arms around me . My throat was tight and my eyes burned , and a tear ran down my cheek . I took her firmly in my arms . I nodded and let her go . She smiled weakly and turned . I watched her walk away as the children waited patiently . She stopped and turned . She held up her hand and waved . I waved a reluctant goodbye to my sister . Jessie smiled one last smile and kept going . " Don 't worry , we put it out , but you got to be careful where you leave lightin ' fluid layin ' around . My God ! Look at you ! " " There as bad storm comin ' in from the south and Sarah here was worried about you up in these hills alone . Hell . Looks like we got here just in time too . Looks like you damn near killed yourself and took the whole forest with you . Thought you said you knew how to camp ! " I kept looking into the trees . " Yeah , I 'll be fine . I 'll manage anyway . I think I need to get home . My mother 's probably worried sick . " " Well , you spend a few nights in Anne till this storm blows over . What in God 's name did you do to that leg ? " I pulled up the pant leg and showed him . " Hell . You stay in Anne and old Sarah here 'll nurse that leg right up for you , ain 't that right ? " Sarah nodded . We went back up the hill together . I had my arm around Sam 's shoulder as he helped me walk . They had the rusty pick - up parked behind my car . Sam and Sarah helped me tear down the tent and gather my things . We were about to go and Sam looked me in the eye .