The Cabin Kevin Jones Unreliable narrator 2 nd per Do I know where the bathroom is? What do you mean, do I know where the bathroom is? I’ve been in the Delta View Mental Institute for five years now and you are still asking me if I know where the bathroom is. I know this place like the back of my hand. I’m not crazy, how many times do I have to tell you people? These other people in here, those are the crazy whacks. The only reason they put me in here is because they didn’t know what else to do with me.
What’s that? You want to hear my story? Well that’s just too bad, you already think I’m crazy. Well ok since you asked nicely. It was October 16, 1993, my senior year at Lemoore High. I had three really good friends Ginger Tubs, Mike Bellowing, and Mary Johnson. We were always getting into trouble together. My family owned this cabin up in the mountains and we decided to go up and spend the weekend there.
We were so anxious to get up there that we ditched school on Friday and drove up that morning. We arrived in Pine Flat Village at noon and I realized that I had forgot my key so we just broke into the cabin through the window; the lock was rusted and broke easily. Once inside we unpacked all of our things and started a fire in the fireplace. Ginger started complaining that the living room was getting too smoky. Ginger is constantly complaining. She is the type of person who wants everything to be perfect, sometimes you just want to grab her by the throat and squeeze until her lips turn blue and the color flees from her face.
Descriptive Essay on A Place: Charlie’s Cabin
The newly cut wood sends bits and pieces of red hot coals in all directions, but are blocked down quickly by the charcoaled black cast iron wood burner. The unexplainable scent of the surroundings crawls into your nose and give you the constant reminder that you are in Charlies Bear Valley cabin. As you first drive into the small, but promising valley, you know that within minutes you will be in ...
I told Ginger to go to the other room and lie down, I didn’t know that the pilot had gone out and the house was filling with gas, honest. The rest of us decided to go for a ride and check out the scenic views of the mountains. We were about two miles from the cabin when we heard the deafening explosion. Mary, Mike, and I all turned around and saw the thick black smoke swelling from the clearing where the cabin was.
I slammed my foot onto the accelerator and zoomed back to what used to be the cabin, now it was a black shack ablaze with a deep crimson inferno. Mary jumped out of the truck and dashed into the cabin. I yelled at her to come back but it was too late she was already through the door. She was determined to find Ginger.
I got out of the truck and went to the door of the cabin, desperately calling out Mary’s name. I heard her coughing near the hall; she must have inhaled the smoke. I ran in and grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back out of the cabin. In the sunlight I noticed that her face had been badly burned.
I picked her up and carried her to the small brook that ran in front of the cabin and put her face into the cool water, how was I supposed to know that she didn’t hold her breath, I thought she was just struggling because of the severe pain she was in. Mike came from behind me and clutched my shoulder. I slung him away and pushed Mary’s face deeper into the water. Her entire body went limp. I freed her corpse and she slowly floated down the stream, she reminded me of a dry log tumbling down the brook. The severe burns must have been too much for her body to handle, that’s what sent her to her watery grave.
I turned around and saw Mike screaming, splashing, and running the opposite way down the creek. I called out to him that we had to get some help, but he just kept running. That’s when it dawned on me, it was all Mike. He had turned the gas on at the cabin knowing that it would detonate. Then, when I was trying to save Mary Mike tried to pull her out of the water so she would suffer. Now he was trying to make an escape leaving me with the blame.
I couldn’t let him get away with this, I ran back up to the cabin and jumped into the truck, I sped down the road and saw him running beside a huge cliff. I heard the thump when I hit him. I got out of the truck and watched him plummet to his fatality. So you see, I’m not crazy. It was all Mike.
The Essay on Bloody Mary
In his book, W.F.M. Prescott makes it quite clear that Mary I has come down in history with the unpleasant name of "Bloody Mary" because of the religious persecutions of her reign. Also called Mary Tudor (well-evidenced by the book's title), she was the daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. I must ass that Prescott does a bit more to honor Mary and begins well in part by writing how one ...
There was a court investigation and I was found guilty. They punished me with a life sentence in this hellhole. I didn’t even get to graduate. My family disowned me.
I never get any visitors. Mike still walks free enjoying his fairytale diminutive life, some day he will pay for what he did to me. I really have to go to the bathroom now. Do you know where the bathroom is?
