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Blurred Memories
Blurred Memories
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Ten years ago I think. Everything else is jumbled and blurred around, mixed like a huge memory smoothie. Yet, I can remember this part of the story clearly:
It was Friday in the month of November. The sky was gloomy like the color of smudged charcoal, and the musty morning smell of rain polluted the air. The sidewalks of 13th Avenue were still soaked with rainwater, and the streets were too quiet. Too empty. All the shops were closed due to the nasty storm that hit yesterday. It was unlike the friendly bustling city I was used to experiencing four days ago.
“Honey, isn’t the weather so nice?” Sadie smiled. I grunted, trying my best to not ruin her good mood. Today was our 40th anniversary, both at 67 years old.
“Let’s go walk around the park,” I suggested. The empty swings creaked every time a small gust of wind blew in its direction. I shivered from the cold. All of a sudden, Sadie stopped for a minute and clutched her chest. She rubbed her forehead, her wrinkles even more noticeable, and quickly drank a small sip of water from her purple water bottle. I looked at her with concern, but she smiled and shook her head. This was our second lap around the park, until we stopped to take a break.
“Honey, I don’t feel so good.” I didn’t notice it before, but her face looked a bit pale. Her bony hands trembled, clutching her chest again.
“Hey, hey. Let’s sit down for a moment,” I cautioned.
It all happened so fast. The ambulance. The blur of lights. The pounding of rain. The thud from Sadie’s fall. My fault. My fault. My fault.
It’s ten years later. Ten years later and I can’t stop drinking. Ten years later and I still can’t forget the look on Sadie’s face just before she died in her hospital bed, filled with sorrow. Ten years later, a bitter yet sweet hollow smile still haunts me. Maybe if I had never suggested walking around the park, if I had taken better care of Sadie. If. If. If. And yet, it’s ten years later, I’m still a mess, trying to forget. Maybe remember. I don’t know. Everything has been a blur.
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Blurred Memories
My set piece is about the experience of an old man who witnesses his wife die from a heart attack and reflects on the events. It includes a bit of onomatopoeia, a few similes, some imagery, a flashback, and a lot of repetition. I use similes, which compare two things using “like” or “as”, as well as onomatopoeia, basically words imitating a sound something makes. Both of these are in the beginning of the story, while imagery and repetition are written throughout the entire story. Imagery is when the author uses descriptive words and describes senses in that moment, to which I used throughout the story. Repetition is used to give emphasis by repeating a phrase or word multiple times. My format displays the old man telling the story in present tense, while the inside story is in past tense as a flashback. A flashback is a part of a story that happened before, giving more information to the story taking place. I like the last part of the story when the man hasn’t moved on from his wife’s death, because although it was bittersweet, the end was realistic.