My Papa says I have a special gift, she told me it isn’t normal to see the things I see. Purple sounds like low deep G note (papa taught me the piano keys). The sound of birds chirping looks like blurry yellow blob, repetitively, following the beat of each chirp; they taste also taste like sunflower seeds. I like eating Bird Chirps. But loud noises scare me. They have a dark red color, they flash at an instant and go away. I told my papa that sometimes I can see faces in the color, it’s looking back at me and whenever they stare, I get angry. Papa says I have to control it and that I should learn to accept the things that ‘come to me’. I don’t know what that means, but whatever Papa says is right. He says that cars and the city ‘triggers’ me and that I lose my touch whenever I travel with Mama. I don’t like going to the city, …show more content…
I see a face, and it’s staring back at me so i hurt it. But I punch the board of the closet but it was gone. Why? Why do these faces keep letting me hurt myself? I bleed and cry, I can’t see the blood, but I smell the iron, and it taste like a bitter berry, and I sort of like it. More beings to bleed out, it tastes even better. Mama screams “We’re not a couple anymore! You always take me for granted! We need to depend on each other! You never do anything for me!” and I hear a crash. It hurts, tastes like rotting metal and another face appears. I punch even harder and I bleed even more, but the taste of the smell of the blood pleases me. 8PM It’s quiet, I can’t hear Papa talk no more, did he leave me with Mama? I don’t like being with Mama, sometimes she gets funny and hurts me. She don’t mean it, but whenever I get hurt, Papa always comforts me. I don’t want Papa gone, I like Papa. I peak through the slit and my Mama is sitting on the bed crying. The sound of her cries taste like metal and that was the first and last time i saw my mama
The boy’s mother will take the easy way out for herself so that she won’t have to fight through the pain. By taking her own life, she will leave the boy in the father’s hands. The boy misses his mother everyday
Throughout the story the narrator, Mama, shows us her frame of mind in the course of her detailing the events and interactions with Dee; the derogatory and skewed descriptions, cry out for justice.
eyes of a child who has absolutely no idea why everything around him has suddenly
Even though Mama is a strong woman, there are many flaws. Not so much with her, but more so with her family. Her youngest daughter Maggie was burned in a house fire, which has left her broken and battered. Mama really talks down about Maggie, but it’s all true, she says “Have you ever seen a lame animal,
THE PAST :.. In days gone by, the four species managed to live in perfect harmony. Witches, werewolves and vampires lived in secret, blending in with the humans on a daily basis - and the humans remained completely in the dark about their existence. It was after thousands of years of living this way, whilst everything was completely normal, that a small group of vampires decided that they’d had enough. They spent months devising plans.
Mama, who is telling the story, changes her tone throughout the story. Mama's tone is self-confidant and proud until Dee comes. Mama then becomes defensive and sarcastic, when dealing with Dee. Mama is defending her home, culture, and Maggie. She is unappreciative of Dee’s arrogant attitude, and her lack of understanding how important Mama’s sacred pieces are.
Thinking about my childhood, I remember many things that influenced me as a person and changed or evolved my perspective of the world, its peoples and its things. One of my most vivid memories that this essay is about, changed the way I represented myself to the world and the way I felt being exposed to it. -- Being lost or forgotten at a young age is a bone-chilling experience that all of us have to go through, at one point or another. So, here I was, at the age of three, left all alone at a carnival in Muscat, Oman.
While still not having learned her lesson, the narrator told her mom that she was “a real failure of a Mom” at the beginning of the story. Later on, her perspective changed drastically. After the narrator's father chased her up and down the house, the mother convinces the father to go blow off some steam while she went and talked to the narrator about why they were so concerned. Even though the narrator was in a bad mood, she still accepted her mother's love. “I wailed, but we both knew I was glad she was there, and I needed only a moment's protest to save face before opening that door” (Alvarez, 8). While the two where bonding, they wrote a short, two page essay together. The mother was proud of not only herself but also her daughter
I can see a crack of light coming from under the bathroom door. I keep hearing a strange sound, almost like a hurt puppy. As I walk closer, I see a dark puddle on the floor. Suddenly, I am very afraid. I slowly open the door. “Mommy, Mommy, are you ok?” My mother looked at me and cried, “Dial 911, Darling! Hurry, Honey, Hurry!” There is so much blood—on the floor, on her clothes, and on her hands. I can hear the sirens now. Mommy goes for a ride in the ambulance. My three day old baby brother and I have to stay with the neighbor until Daddy comes and picks us up. What happened to my mother?
Mama hung up the phone. The conversation was very hollow. I could tell that Mama was fed up with me and my decision to keep myself separate from the church. I cared. I did not want to hurt her, but I knew that I could not bring myself to sit in a church pretending to love Jesus, just to please my mother. I could not allow myself to go back to living a lie again.
“I know guys, but she likes to spend time with you and you would cry too if you were in her position. Don’t feel bad, Anna. It’s not your fault she can’t talk. You guys are pretty much her only joy in life,” said my mom. The living room doors creaked open and
She was blood shot red, her eyes were closed and she was screaming so bad my ears were ringing. I grabbed her by the mouth and told her to be quiet, to open her eyes and look at me. She followed my directions and grabbed me, exclaiming that she wanted her mother back: the doctor then came in and discussed with me that they wanted to keep her. I automatically stopped him mid sentence and advised him that she would be going home with me, I refused to let her stay
There once was a bottle named Honey who lived in Bottle Town. He had a huge family consisting of ten siblings. Everyone in his family only cared for money but luckily he was the only one who decided to move away with nothing on his hands. His father and mother never looked up for their children so all of Honey’s brothers and sisters took care of themselves. The day Honey decided to leave he explained, “I’m sorry for leaving but I cannot live here anymore. I am planning on coming back but I need some time alone somewhere where no one knows me!” He cried from guiltiness.
I cry until my eyes become swollen with each blow that tears at my flesh. “I’m not afraid to dig a grave and put you in it” she threatens. And as she storms out of the room, I close my eyes to
My frail fingers graze the tender bruises trailing down my thighs as I try to ignore the constant throbbing in my skull. I stand timidly in front of a fragile, pale girl. Her limbs are black and blue twigs, shaking with desperation. She bears smoky grey eyes glossy with fear and raven locks that mimic her exasperation. I raise my right hand, barely making a fist but trembling at the attempt. My already wounded knuckles strikes the glass reflection and it shatters. The shards of glass collapsing to the tiles below brings me superficial satisfaction as I watch my knuckles split open and blood begins to pour out. There is no pain. No grief. No fear.