Gustavo Amaral

Professor Debelius
December 15th, 2016

Short Shorts
1. Dragged
2. Not Another Brick in the Wall
3. The Exception to the Rule

Dragged

The night was going to be darker than what the family expected. They had just returned
from Emerita Beach - four hours south of their home town- and were dropping their daughters
friend off at her house. The father got out of their navy blue Renault Scnic and opened the
trunk, while the rest of the family quietly waited inside the car. The son was still half asleep, with
eyes barely open after recently waking up. The daughters eyes were almost closing while her
friend was tiredly entering the house. The whole family was hoping to get home soon, sore from
the recent trip. However, after the father closed the trunk, three eerie men walked by. Something
was going on. They were all wearing ragged clothes, and the one in the middle was carrying a
pistol in his left hand. All three had the same facial expression: eyebrows put down together,
eyes lit up and nostrils flared. The fathers vigilant voice advised the family to stay calm. The
three men approached the car and told the whole family to get out of it, as if they had complete
authority over them. The doors to the house closed.
The father opened the door behind his to get the daughter, while simultaneously yelling
get him out of the car to the mother. The mother desperately exited the car and opened the
other back door to get the son. While telling the children that everything was going to be fine,
both parents were shaking in the attempt of getting them out of the car. The girl was already in
the fathers hands, but the little boy was still stuck in his seat belt. Trembling, the mom
insistently tried to release him from the seat belt, but the three muggers anxiously entered the
car, ignoring the suffering of the family. The moms warm heart pounded as she saw the three
cold hearted men get closer to her son.
Already inside the car, the robber with the pistol commanded his two partners in crime to
enter the car. The robbers started the engine. Two in the front seats, one sitting next to the
petrified boy. The driver nervously turned his head back and forth to check the surroundings,
and observing the risk of being caught decided to flee the scene. As the car started
accelerating, the sons left leg was still stuck in the seatbelt, and he started getting dragged. His
head started hitting the hard asphalt, centimeters away from the cars deadly wheels. The black

cement on the streets suddenly contrasted with the blood coming out of the boys head. Help!
Help! he yelled. The mother, had not given up and was being dragged as well, while holding the
boys hand as hard as she could. Hold on to me!, she said while holding her sons hand in an
attempt to be with him, even if it meant going far away.
The family was in shock, petrified, missing what the robbers had just taken.

Not Another Brick in the Wall

Tomorrow we will take a quiz on the Secret Service. Prepare well. Said my history
teacher before the school day ended.

While all of my peers left school, I promptly headed to the library to find a treatise about it to
study. On my way, I passed the schools beautiful garden. It had letter shaped bushes spelling
the schools name and flowers with the schools colors: blue, red and white. I arrived at the
destination and carefully skimmed the rows of shelves, attentively reading the spines of each
book. I soon found the titles starting with S, then started looking for SR, SRE However, when I
reached the publications that started with the word secret, what I found was a book called
Secrets of the School. It was an extremely thin paperback, with a golden cover and black letters,
which were almost worn. I looked around to see if there was anyone, but thankfully the library
was empty. Through the librarys immense windows, I could see the grey clouds conquering the
blue sky. I walked to one of the librarys old wooden table to look at the book. When I opened it,
my heart started pumping the blood into my veins faster: it was a map of my school.
The map looked antique, even though it included every part of the school. The only odd
thing odd was a scratch in the right corner of the map, as if someone attempted to hide a part of
the school. I swiftly got my eraser to try to see through it. Only after realizing the table was full of
black eraser shavings, I was able to there was a room someone tried to hide. The room was
between the library and the history department of the school. What could be there? How could I
have never heard of it? Why would someone hide it? I decided I would go look for it. I got out of
the librarys building, cautiously following the map to find the unknown room.
The weather had suddenly changed; there was no blue sky left. Dark grey clouds
dominated the sky, as if it was going to rain. The map took me to a brick wall in the north side of
the history department. I started looking for any sign of the room - maybe an entrance- but
found nothing.
Looking at the perfectly normal wall, I realized I had lost time with a ludicrous illusion. I
turned to the wall, and angrily hit it before turning my back to the building. However, after hitting

it, one of the bricks in the wall moved incongruously. It seemed as if someone put it there after
the wall was already built. It was definitely not just another brick in the wall. When I touched it, it
fell off, opening a hole. I heard a thunder, rain started falling. Light started coming out of the
hole, contrasting with the brown tone of the building and the dark tone of the sky. My heart
started beating faster than the wheels of a speeding train. My hands were trembling, my teeth
were cracking and my eyes wide open. I anxiously looked through the hole, and was not
disappointed: it was so much more than what I expected.

The Exception to the Rule

It was a rainy day in London. The sky had a darker tone of gray than usual, with thin
drops of water falling from the clouds. I decided that today I would be late to work in order to
observe a very famous court case. I had been reading about it since its beginning, as every
lawyer should. I left home early to be able to enter the courtroom and get a good seat. The
traffic was outstandingly horrible, or maybe I was just too anxious. Forty-nine minutes of tapping
the steering wheel with one hand and looking for a good radio station with the other passed
before I finally arrived. After almost crashing to park the car, I finally entered the antique
neoclassical building in downtown.
The well preserved, dark wooden walls contrasted with the light colors of the antique oil
paintings, just as right and wrong contrast inside the courtrooms of the building. I wandered
inside of the halls until I found the room, completely crowded. The courtroom contrasted with its
neighboring room, which was completely empty. The twenty-three minutes I spent in line felt like
hours. While I was waiting on line, an old well dressed gentleman passed right in front of the
line, while a silver haired man with humble clothing was not allowed in.
The old lady was sitting in the defendants chair inside of the court. She was next to her
lawyer, calmly discussing their strategy to avoid a punishment from the Judge. Her wrinkles
contrasted with the brightness of her eyes, which looked youthful and hopeful, even though she
technically did commit a very serious crime. Her posture was stiff, and her arms were crossed.
She was wearing an entirely black outfit as if she was mourning, could be considered ironic.
The court was full. The media and the public had a huge interest in this case, as it had
become extremely known worldwide. Even after doing what she did, most of the public opinion
backed up the offender, supporting her with smiles and prayers inside the courtroom before the
judge entered the room. From inside one could hear the rain getting worse.
-

All rise, this court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Minos presiding.
When the judge entered the courtroom, a suspenseful atmosphere entered as well. The

defendants sister stopped praying to look up at the judge. The photographers stopped chatting

to take pictures of the moment. The old lady and her lawyer stopped talking. The courtroom was
silent. Everyone turned to see the man, who would soon define whether the lady would go to jail
or not for the murder of her own son. Her son was a young man who was still in his thirties
before being suffocated with a pillow. If he was still alive he would certainly be there supporting
his murderer.
-

Thump, Thump. The judge banged the gavel to start the trial.
After intense hours of trial, the judge left the room to discuss his final decision with his

fellow officials. Everyone was watching the killers reactions while the judge was deciding her
destiny. Instead of biting nails or moving her feet, she looked extremely calm, as if she was sure
her actions were rightful. The public seemed to be more anxious than the defendant. Everyone
in the audience was either biting nails, nervously sweating or moving an extremity of the body,
including me. The judge entered.
When the judge finally thumped his gavel everyone, including the defendant was
astounded. The public stood up, complaining about the punishment given by the judge. He
could not do anything, the law was above all, he said. Even if the mother was serving her
sons last wish, avoiding further useless suffering, she was punished. Even if most thought she
did not deserve a penalty, the laws unanimously agreed; she had to be punished. Tears started
falling from the ladys face while she begged the judges empathy, just as her son had begged
hers before joyfully dying. At least one got the desired empathy.

Writers Report
1. List the title of each story and the change that occurs.
a. Dragged

i.

A family is has just returned from the beach and are dropping off a friend before going home.
However, three muggers got in their way and took what was theirs.
b. Not Another Brick in the Wall
i.
A student is going to the library to study for a quiz, until, he finds a book - in between other
books of the library - that contains a map of the school with a secret room he attempts to find.
c. The Exception to the Rule
i.
A murderer is being judged in the courtroom after having killed her own son and even with the
support of most of the public, is condemned to years in jail.
2. Compare your experience of writing a creative piece to your experience of writing analytical
pieces.
a. Writing a creative piece allows one to have more liberty. I thought it was more fun to have the
freedom of creating the characters and deciding the whole plot of the story from beginning to
end. It also allows you to write in your preferred style, differently from having to write concisely
for analytical pieces.
3. Which story do you consider most successful and why?
a. I think that the most successful story is Not Another Brick in the Wall, as it is very descriptive,
the structure flows very well and the reader gets hooked since the beginning.
4. Whats the best sentence (this doesnt necessarily need to be from your best story) and why?
a. My heart started beating faster than the wheels of a speeding train. I anxiously looked through
the hole, and was not disappointed: it was so much more than what I expected.
i.
I think that this is the best sentence because it is descriptive - through the use of a comparison and also leaves the reader hanging, as it does not say what is inside the mysterious room.
5. For each story list the specific literary technique (narration, setting, dialogue, symbol) that you
feel is most essential in conveying meaning and change in the story.
a. Dragged
i.
Description
b. Not Another Brick in the Wall
i.
Setting
c. The Exception to the Rule
i.
Contrastive descriptions.
6. Which assigned shorts (or short stories) most influenced you (and how) in writing your own
stories?
a. Spider Creek, due to the importance of its setting.
b. The Nicest Kid in the Universe, due to its plot twist in the end.
c. True Love, due to its hints pointing to the events but also leaving some things for the readers
interpretation.
7. What was the most helpful piece of feedback you received?
a. Show dont tell!
8. Do you prefer online or face-to-face feedback?
a. Face-to-face
9. Which story would you most like to change? Why?
a. Dragged, because I feel that I could have shown more of the muggers version of the story.