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Journal 3: Write a story that either begins or ends with this sentence: His hand trembled as he closed
the book.
By Jena Brooks
Her hand trembled as she closed the book. She had just finished reading it for the fifth time. It was her
favorite book. She liked to read it at times when she needed to be reminded that there is still a possibility
of love in todays world. It was a hard concept to understand at such a young age. She has never been in
love, at least she thinks. I mean what if shes been in love but didnt know how to recognize it? It left her
so confused and slightly annoyed. She knew she loved her family and friends, the kind of unconditional
love. But what about the love that has a hint of young freedom that she cant seem to stop hoping for? Not
a lustful hope, rather the longing for another companion that brings out the best in her. Time will take its
course and it can never be forced, however it doesnt make the waiting process any easier. Or does she
have to wait? If shes learned anything recently its that the greatest form of love is through friendship and
prayer. She should learn to be grateful for the ones who currently surround her with unconditional love.
The temporary time of being alone is an important stage to find her own self first.
By Braden Fouts
Ted has been working at the library since he was a young adult. He had read every book in his library
three times over, or at least he thought he had. Teds library used to belong to his grandfather who passed
away many years ago and before it was his grandfathers library, it belonged to his great grandfather. Ted
figured he knew every part of the building because it was fairly old and not very complex. All of the books
are original to the library and Ted has not bought any new ones. The books were kept on old oak shelves
that are thought to be built by Teds great grandfather.
On the first day of January, Ted was walking around his library. He pulled out one of his favorite
books to read it. Behind the book he noticed a small button so he decided to push it. The whole book
shelf went into the wall and then slid to the left and revealed a small room with a book in it. Ted walked
into the room, took the book and opened it. Inside it listed all of the previous owners of the library and how
they died. On the very end of the list it said Ted, cause of death- car accident. His hand trembled as he
closed the book.
By Thomas Johnston
Stabbing the Darkness
After a fine dinner with his family, Sam decided to retired to his study for some recreational
reading. He kissed his wife on the cheek and rustled the hair of his three children then left for the
staircase. Wandering through the darkness of the basement level, he arrived to the door of his office. The
light emanating from the room seeped through the opening of the door. Sam paused for a moment for he
usually closes the door to his office. A closed door is always a great deterrent to nosy children. Sam
begins reading his latest favorite novel Stabbing the Darkness. He was at the climax of the book, where
the main character was trapped in an abandoned house, on a haunted lake, in the middle of a lonely
forest The stairs in the main room begin to creak as someone begins to walk on them. The footsteps
grow faint, as if whoever was on the stairs were walking up them. After much consideration, he concludes
that they must be just noises in his head as no one usually is down here. Distracted by the noise at first,
instilling a paranoia that he might not be alone. His eyes drift back down to the text in his lap. The hero of
the story is sifting through the notes on a desk, trying to discover something about the previous proprietor
of the house. Note after note, word after word, to no avail. Our hero stands there, frustrated and left in the
darkness. He hears a thud on the floor above him, followed by whimpers. Wait no, muffled screams. All he
can hear is his own heartbeat. He is too frightened to move. He tries to force the thought of what possible
horror might be occurring out of his mind. He begins to read the text on his lap, even when he knows that
the escape from stories will not save him. The protagonist decides to investigate the other rooms, hoping
that he will find anything of use to his cause. While wandering around, the hero begins to wonder why the
house seems to be so silent. Those who have journeyed to the house have heard noises all night but the
main character has not even heard a squeak of a mouse. His hand trembled as he closed the book.

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By Katelyn Kocher
His hand trembled as he closed the book.
It was probably just the wind he thought to himself. But his paranoia started to get the best of him.
What could have made that strange noise?
He tried to keep his mind busy by watching TV and reading some more, but then it happened
again. A high pitch whale from what sounded like a hurt animal. He didnt know where it was coming from.
He through his book on the floor and started to investigate. He looked throughout the house but
found nothing. Could it be from outside? He thought to himself. He tried to think of the most logical
explanation. Maybe the neighbors dog is just upset to be stuck outside again or maybe the kids from
down the street where playing games with one another.
He tried to listen to music. He thought his smooth jazz could ease his mind or at least drown out
the horrible whales. But then the electricity when out. Scared, he ran down stars to flip the generator back
onbut nothing happen.
He sat there in his dark empty house.
While looking for candles and flashlights he heard a crash. Frozen in his own fright he forced
himself to turn around.
He saw a silhouette of a large male.
He silhouette said, Remember me?
By Natalie Leon
The clock struck three. Two more hours, Jay thought to himself. He had spent the whole day slaving away
at his colleges library trying to earn a couple of extra bucks before the weekend. He noticed some kids
messing around in the nonfiction area. One pushed the other into a shelf and a row of books came
tumbling down.
Hey, watch it! Jay screamed from the other side of the library as he rushed to pick up the mess
they made. As he placed each book back onto its proper shelves in alphabetical order, one book in
particular caught his eye. Its cover was made of dark brown leather and had no words inscribed into it.
Jay had never seen this book in his life and hed held every book in this library in his hands at
least once since he had been working there. He opened the cover and on the inside found a giant J
written in red ink on the first page. He flipped through the pages and seemed to notice this books main
character had the same name as him!
He sat himself onto the floor and began reading the first chapter. The story intrigued him. He
absorbed every word and felt a familiarity as he read. It wasnt until about the ninth chapter than he began
to notice that a lot of what had already happened in the book were things that had happened to him too in
his own life.
Jay got a strange thought. He ignored it and continued reading. At chapter eleven he had to stop
himself because he knew he was right. In the book it described the death of his mother, every detail
matched up to what really happened in reality. This was a story of his life. How it got into his hand he
didnt know. He read and read laughing and tearing up over each memory written onto the pages. Every
chapter brought back a wave of memories.
He reached chapter twenty, which was his age right now. This chapter was relatively short, as he
had only just turned twenty a couple months ago. He read about his birthday party and about the girl he
fell out of love with this year. His eyes moved onto the next page and he read the words Jay sat on the
floor reading each memory of his life in the book. He had reached the present.
Jay looked up at the clock and realized it was six already, he shouldve been out an hour ago. For
the past three hours he had been reading about his past, reminiscing on that past twenty years. Did he
really want to know the future? He could learn He realized that there weren't many chapters left after
twenty, three at most which could only mean one thing.
His hand trembled as he closed the book.