Names of short stories in essays

The Indian has always been a lover of nature and a close observer of her many moods. The habits of the birds and animals, the voices of the winds and waters, the flickering of the shadows, and the mystic radiance of the moonlight - all appealed to him. Gradually, he formulated within himself fanciful reasons for the myriad manifestations of the Mighty Mother and her many children; and a poet by instinct, he framed odd stories with which to convey his explanations to others. And these stories were handed down from father to son, with little variation, through countless generations, until the white man slaughtered the buffalo, took to himself the open country, and left the red man little better than a beggar. But the tribal storyteller has passed, and only here and there is to be found a patriarch who loves the legends of other days.

The timer was set, the oven already heated from the first
batch. Maybell genteelly placed the tray on the rack, closed the oven door and
went back to the dining room, hoping to catch the perp red handed. But there
was no one there, and no sound. The plate of cookies sat there, cold as the 60
year old table it sat on. And the cookies she counted out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, …
Six!? She had prepared the batch fresh this morning after the dozen she had
made last night seemingly vanished into thin air. She was hot now. She could
feel the effects of work in her bones and the cool swing on her front porch was
calling her. She lifted her skirt as she crossed over the gnarled thresh-hold
and she sat, like a queen looking over the row-homes. She smiled. “I’ll get
those kids one of these days.”

Names of short stories in essays

names of short stories in essays


names of short stories in essaysnames of short stories in essaysnames of short stories in essaysnames of short stories in essays