Storymania Logo




Ego by Ramkumar Menon How Ego can affect you? How could you communicate to avoid ego clashes? [2,617 words]
Turning To Him by Randall Barfield No description. [354 words]
The Death Of My Mom by Randall Barfield A short reflection on a lack of tears for my mom. [565 words]
World Cubanization--Afghanization by Randall Barfield A brief essay about some things we cannot change in this world and the dreari... [775 words]
Blubber, Blubber, Armchair Lubber by Randall Barfield A short essay about the REAL truth behind dieting, etc. [870 words]
Let's Legalize Pot! by James Cartwright Just an essay I was proud of. You probobly won't be. That's life. Some credit goes to Andre... [810 words]
Everything's Routine by Pearl S The frightening realization that people live their entire lives like gerbils running in th... [662 words]
Why We Should Not Invade Iraq by James Cartwright This is just an essay I wrote, that I thought was particularly well written. I li... [725 words]
The Hopeless Cynic: Let's Get Typical by Robert G Hagans It's been forever, but I thought it was time to make a comeback. My lates... [2,288 words]
Rape Of Maya's Singing Caged Bird by Samantha Carter About nothing in particular; discussing an awful event that happened a really... [1,079 words]
The Adventure Of Human Freedom by Jeffrey (George) Winter As title indicates. [1,149 words]
What We Say, What They Hear by John Sheirer Humorous look at the ways people in romantic relationships misunderstand each other... [1,721 words]
Jeffrey Dahmers In Suits by Mike Schilller The truth about the corporate creeps who are promoting war for oil and personal profit... [923 words]
A Candle Still Burning: An Excerpt From My Memoir by Vianne-Marie Fortier This is a piece I am doing for my memoir about growing up and... [864 words]
Strength's Illusion by Jeffrey (George) Winter A visit with a disabled friend: How our understandings of strength affect our relationships... [1,696 words]
Revisiting Myself by Charles Cotterman I went back to the old essays, and I have some new philosophies. [357 words]
The Best Friend by Kylan Masters I wrote this essay because so many guys came to me and said that they had these best friends th... [1,429 words]
Mac-Man by Kylan Masters A humerous essay written on how to pick-up women. [990 words]
The Immigrant Story by David Soriano Elaboration on the Led Zeppelin's "The Immigrant Song". [979 words]
The Evil Eye by Norman A Rubin The evil eye is paranoia whose victims are diagnosed on the basis that they see plots everywhere a... [1,440 words]
Reflective Essay On Classroom Discipline by Randall Barfield This essay was written as part of the requirements for a course in ele... [2,676 words]
Lapine Roles by Vianne-Marie Fortier Yay! My last English paper of 8th grade! This one's about the important roles that the Watership D... [933 words]
Bardo Blurb by Sunny Drinking a beer in a bar, some thoughts! [311 words]
Student And Studies by Juned Ahsan To motivate myself and others. [524 words]
Evolving To Simplicity; Our Lack Of Human Evolution by Branson Storm A few thoughts on why our species is incapable of achieving... [5,571 words]
Needed: Diversity In Education by Randall Barfield Including More Studies In Distinct Cultures Needed Urgently: Give-A-Shit Parents... [867 words]
If Only (If Only) by Joseph Robert Herrick A message to compromise and be accepting on the issue of abortion. [554 words]
Unemployment: Cum Laude And The Greatest Terrorist by Randall Barfield 2-cents' worth about employment? [563 words]
Daddy And Me: Making The Rounds by Randall Barfield A little wallow? [428 words]
The Effects Of Human Cloning Through Experimentation by Elizabeth A Letourneau This essay is based on a project for my senior year of sch... [2,481 words]
Life With A Chocoholic by Ben Overby "...there on her hands and knees in the middle of the floor was the chocoholic gobbling ... [1,492 words]
Clothesline Conversations by Ben Overby Though we all bungle our color-filled lives with a splatter of blackness, the spark o... [1,730 words]
Racism In Modern Literature by Christian Obermanns - [704 words]
Play Ball: The Real Rite Of Spring by Steven R. Kravsow I love the spring. Wanna know why? Because spring is the time of year when g... [917 words]
It Happens To Us All by Niall Power Essay comparison. [750 words]
Glen Of Purity, In Wood Of Dying Light (Anne Frank Diary Entries) by Vianne-Marie Fortier This is an essay I had to do for English clas... [3,164 words]
The Green, Green Grass Of Home by Robert Edward Levin essay about holy war. [1,130 words]
The British Are Crying! The British Are Crying? by Branson Storm Editorial on the treatment of the 'detainees' at Camp X-Ray, Gu... [1,239 words]
Should RHS Change Its Attendance Policies? by Andrew Allyn Rasmussen This essay is purely my opinion on RHS's Attendance policies. It goe... [887 words]
Joby The Shiloh Silent Screamer - Essay Narrative
The Diversity Mystique by Richard Koss The ultimate hype of political correctness. [1,083 words]
Four Of Them by Randall Barfield ...nobody has eight kids anymore either. Right? [259 words]
The Hopeless Cynic: Believing In Believing by Robert G Hagans Seems like a good time to submit this. It's not as coherant as some ... [1,395 words]
Lights, Camera, Action! by Clark G Curtis This is a look at how one young lad (mau) from southern Indiana spent the weeks leading... [3,184 words]
Imagine That by Duck A short essay describing my childhood escape. [502 words]
Ten--Hour Weddings by Randall Barfield About South American weddings. [510 words]
Let The Air Begin by Clark G Curtis While growing up in southern Indiana the rites of fall included sitting on the forced air hea... [1,565 words]
What Would He Think? by Randall Barfield An attempt to look at ourselves constructively. [559 words]
Population Out Of Control! by Frank Dunsmore At the rate of 94.5 million more people on the planet each year, you might wonder ho... [984 words]
Betsy In The Twenty-First Century by Frank Dunsmore My grandfather was one of the first owners of an automobile and one of the fi... [1,990 words]
Randy's Advice To Young Writers by Randall Barfield - [807 words]
My Mother, The Halloweenie by Jennifer L O'callaghan Reflections on my favorite holiday and how it has changed. [1,460 words]
May Mothers And Fathers by Randall Barfield A short essay about those parents who want to push academic responsibility off onto oth... [479 words]
Fishing Obligations by Randall Barfield A short essay about parental responsibilities and kids' obligations. [558 words]

Go to page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 [8] 9 10
Joby The Shiloh Silent Screamer - Essay Narrative
This was a paper I had to do for English and, I decided to put it in here because it explains the way I write. It's supposed to be a narrative of a young Drummer boy that was on the side of the Confederecy during the Civil War. Joby took place in the battle of Shiloh in Tennessee. This is a response to the story "Drummer Boy of Shiloh" by Ray Bradbury. If you can find it somewhere, definitely read it! It's great! Please excuse no paragraphs, I'm too lazy to fix it.
[1,144 words]
Vianne-Marie Fortier
Growing up too fast.
Poetry in motion, verses flying past her on the highway.
And she breathes in the air.
She can smell the perfume of decaying unpublished literature.
To her, it reminds her of home
And the Pennsylvania sunshine.
[June 2004]
A Candle Still Burning: An Excerpt From My Memoir (Essays) This is a piece I am doing for my memoir about growing up and finding your place in the world. This particular piece is about camp, and the time when you have to leave camp. [864 words] [Teenage]
Awkward (Poetry) This is just a spur of the moment poem. Inspiration comes from "So much for the Afterglow" by Everclear. [43 words]
Broken Soul (Poetry) This is a poem about a person that loves someone, but that person doesn't really love her back. Enjoy. :) [102 words] [Romance]
By God (Poetry) This is about someone who's really annoyed with society. [80 words]
Empty Nest (Poetry) This is about a bunch of siblings who leave home for college and have to tell their mother that this is their choice. She can't come to terms with it. [94 words]
Garden Of Eternity (Poetry) A girl loosing the child within. [79 words]
Glen Of Purity, In Wood Of Dying Light (Anne Frank Diary Entries) (Essays) This is an essay I had to do for English class about what would Anne Frank have said if she had been able to take her diary with her to Westerbork, Auschwitz, and Bergen-Belsen. I thought this was an ... [3,164 words]
Lapine Roles (Essays) Yay! My last English paper of 8th grade! This one's about the important roles that the Watership Down rabbits play. [933 words] [Animal]
Mr. Harrison (Dedicated To The Deceased Beatle) (Poetry) This poem is about George Harrison, who you probably know passed away on November 30th, 2001. He was an excellent guitarist, probably ranking up there with Vanhallan and Eric Clapton. A muscian with m... [36 words]
November Sun (Poetry) This poem is about a girl falling in love with a poet, after she finds inspiration in him. [250 words] [Romance]
Paint A Sky Gray (Poetry) This is about someone who's lost a love, and he/she wants someone to understand how it is. [136 words]
Paper Boat (Poetry) I wrote this poem after getting inspiration from the Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod story. Enjoy. :D [47 words] [Fantasy]
Push Me Away (Poetry) This is about some, well actually, a lot of heartach someone is going through. And, she can't break free from it.. hence, the locked in a box line. Enjoy. Let me know what you think. [126 words]
Ringing Bells (Poetry) I don't know where this came from. It's June and I'm writing a Christmas poem. [111 words]
Roamer Of The Night (Poetry) It's about a girl who loves the night, I guess. And, when it's night she feels alive. [86 words] [Mind]
Self-Refusal (Poetry) This is a poem I wrote about myself. I was in one of those writer's block moods when I hate myself when I can't think of anything to write. I barely write acrosstics. They're not really my style, but ... [40 words] [Motivational]
Sun (Poetry) It's kind of weird... I was inspired by this piece at night. Go figure. [71 words]
Symphonic Ambition (Poetry) Another school assignment! [85 words]
The Concert (Poetry) This is another school assignment. It's based on the Wallflowers concert I went to last December in Philly. Best night of my life. [194 words]
The New York Times (In Memoir Of Those Situated In The September 11th Tragedy) (Poetry) This poem is dedicated to mothers everywhere that lost their children that day. [79 words] [Relationships]
The Personification Of A Cello (Poetry) Assignment for Freshman English. This is definitely the best poem I've ever written. [59 words]
Thud (Poetry) There isn't much to say about it... [47 words]
Viola Serenade (Poetry) This is yet again another assignment written for English class. [243 words]
Joby The Shiloh Silent Screamer - Essay Narrative
Vianne-Marie Fortier

My dear Mother,

I’ve missed you, my mother. Please let the news of you and Matilda be good. I apologize if my running away caused you any grief. I’m so sorry, Mama. I didn’t know what I was doing. Maybe it was the full moon that night that sent me running through our cotton fields. Maybe it was anger or the heartache of Papa’s death that led me onward to Tennessee. I know it was stupid of me. I didn’t even leave you a note. I couldn’t help myself and neither could the Confederate Army. South Carolina seems like a lifetime away as if Papa took it with him when he left us. I was trying to fill his spot. I was trying to heal the wound the bullet left in his chest. I couldn’t be him. I couldn’t live up to him. I enlisted in the army.
The army gave me a drum and thumped a beat on the instrument to demonstrate a tune I should follow. This is perhaps why I ran away. The beating drum must have heard me cry the pervious night. What was I to do with a drum and its sticks? What sort of weapon was this? I wanted to smash it by thrusting my fist into the skin stretched taut across the wood. I had come to take over the position that Papa left when he found himself barely breathing on the battlefield, and I had gotten a musical task instead. I was ashamed of myself because I could never be the soldier that he wished I could be.
That night I slept underneath the peach tree and prayed that angels would descend and teach me to play the drum, but they ignored me. I was so petrified of what the battle would bring, but the beauty of the falling peach blossoms temporarily blinded me from bravery frailness. It was beautiful, even though the timing for such pulchritude was late arriving. It looked as though a member of the celestial order was shredding his wings from his safe cloud haven above. The flowers scattered the ground and the regal moon winked down at them. I closed my eyes to rest them, and the General spoke to me. General Johnston’s voice was drenched with confederate pride and he had the compounded smells to recreate the spirit of Father. His scents of perspiration pipe tabacco, saddle leather, and horses all lingered above him like a halo. He was a shepherd dressed in gray wool and gloves. He was looking over his soldier lamb man-boys.
General Johnston spoke to me with raw emotion in his words; “ You are the heart of the army, boy. I need you. We need you. “ When he spoke those words he coaxed the fear dragon within me and calmed my raging fear. He seemed to mean the words that passed through his thin apricot lips. I had been terrified of what tomorrow’s sun would awake when its pale rays. Somehow, his statements made one army the following day. I set the army’s pace. I was the heart of the army. I pumped the life to and from the army’s parts, and gave them the energy to march forward. The young soldiers were the transporters of the blood. They were vessels and to complete the deed, they shot sulfur from their muskets.
The soldiers on my side started early, when the union men were still lazy from their lunar slumber. It was not an early morning delight for them. Cannons shot smoke into the air that created dust fog. The dust would starve the grass for air. I kept on beating the drum, although I wished I could hide inside it and wallow. I wanted to become a percussion wallflower, hiding in the shadow of the drum’s walls. The command to beat came quickly so I had no time to cry and hide. I needed to be a man just as the General had told me. The sticks against the canvas of the drum gave me the worst headache.
I watched the battle lay before my youthful eyes. I knew this day had taken my innocence as I watched men fall forward, writhe in agony, and floating in owl creek with their faces swollen from trying to take their last breath. Their breath wouldn’t come and the either bled to death or drowned from falling in. The water was stained crimson like a sky at sunset, but by sundown the creek was full of them. You could use the corpses as a bridge to walk from one side of the tiny river to the other side. I was disgusted. I remember vomiting into the body-filled creek twice after it was over. Last night’s supper had come up easily.
The blue-clad men came like ocean waves, although I have never set eyes on the crashing tendrils of foam to graying rock and sand. The confederacy pushed onward and was ready to become a tidal wave. I must say, though, that our bayonets and minieballs were much more effective on loss of life then thundering water.
The church of Shiloh was so near that I wanted to run to. I wished I could uncurl my fingers from the drumsticks and drop the instrument and run to the church. I wanted to get on my knees and beg that He take me away from this scene and carry me to a much safer field. I had been in the orchard, Mama, and the Virgin bore no fruit from her womb.
I wished my eyes had not seen so much and that my hat would magically grow large and hide the globes near my forehead that reflected violence to a maximum, but I saw it all. I wept after that. My tears were as hot as their pride the night before.
General Johnston was killed in the battle. I heard through soldier gossip that he had bled to death because he had been shot in the leg. I will never forget the words he had spoke to me. The words that had been so low that they had sung in my veins will continue to sing in my head for the rest of my life. I must be getting along now, for I have to get to bed. Tomorrow’s is to be a long day and I wouldn’t waste any time that the night holds in darkness. I will write more now that I am accustom to these sights of death. But, whenever someone asks me: “ What did you do for the Civil War?” I will quietly respond, “ I was the drummer boy at Owl Creek, or the battle of the Tennessee River or Church of Shiloh. I was a drummer boy at the battle of Shiloh.”

Your Loyal Son,


Submit Your Review for Joby The Shiloh Silent Screamer - Essay Narrative
Required fields are marked with (*).
Your e-mail address will not be displayed.

Your Name*     E-mail*

City     State/Province     Country

Your Review (please be constructive!)*

Please Enter Code*:

Submit Your Rating for Joby The Shiloh Silent Screamer - Essay Narrative

Worst     1     2     3     4     5     6     7     8     9     10     Best

© 2001 Vianne-Marie Fortier
February 2002

Copyright © 1998-2001 Storymania Technologies Limited. All Rights Reserved.