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Grace Fried

10/27/14
3rd
Mrs. Hamilton
Final Story Draft Summery

For my English final project I will do a prequel about Curleys wifes character. I plan
to have it take place in her own house when she was a teenager. It will be right after she gets
and exciting acting opportunity from a young man her age (one of the opportunities she
described to Lennie). She wants to pursue her dream, but her mother wont permit it. It turns
into a heated screaming match, and her mother still wont budge on her position. After the
fight, she decides that her only option is to runaway and hitchhike to Los Angeles. That night,
she packs her belongings and sneaks out of her house, determined to get to L.A.

Grace Fried
10/28/14
3rd
Final Story Sensory Paragraph
She looked at her own tear-streaked face and the room behind her in the full body
mirror. Her glazed eyes glanced at her own room, and she realized how much she hated it
here. There was no warmth or affection in this household. Everything was bland and grey in
her eyes. Take her room for example. There was a single bed made of old barley sacks and
soft straw that took up most of her small room. The ceiling hung low and was horribly
slanted, thanks to the attic above her room. Even the floor had wilted overtime because of
the water droplets that had always managed to find their way in. The wooden planks to the
ceiling and floor were both rotting and uneven. All of her clothes were carefully folded at the
foot of her bed, as she had no other place to put them. A single handmade nightstand stood
next to her lumpy bed. On it, her few possessions lay out; a comb, a postcard with the
Hollywood sign, and most importantly, a necklace from her older sister who had died. She
angrily snatched all three items off the rickety nightstand and tucked them into her blouse.
She brushed one stray tear out of her eye, took one last glance at her old room, and quietly
crept down the stairs.

The Actress

Grace Fried
10/29/14
3 English- Mrs. Hamilton
T1 Final Story

She entered the house with a bounce in her step, humming as she put her small bag down
in front of the doorway. She took her shoes off and left them next to her bag. She passed the kitchen,
on her way to her room, but doubled back when she saw the glow of a candle. Ma must still be awake.
She passed the wall that separated the entryway from the kitchen. She cautiously peeked around the
corner and saw her mother sitting down at the table, doing needlepoint.
Uh-oh. It was never good when her mother did needle point. It usually meant that she was

mad about something, and needlepoint was her unsuccessful attempt at calming herself down. She
decided that she would cheer her mother up by telling her the good news. She took a deep breath
and whispered Ma? Her mother jerked her head up, but her face became relieved when she
realized it was only her daughter.
Annabelle, I thought you would be at Ceciles house tonight.
I decided to come home early, ma. I need to talk to you; I have great news! Her mothers
eyebrows bunched together, and her mouth formed a tight line.
Yes. Come, sit here. She pushed her needlepoint to one side of the table and looked at
Annabelle expectantly, waiting for her to sit down at the table. Annabelle happily bounced to the
seat across from her mother and smiled.
So today ma, Cecile and I went out. Annabelle chose her words carefully. She purposely left
out where they went, because she knew her mother didnt approve of her loitering at the new
saloon downtown. And we met a vey nice young man who is from Hollywood. Annabelle felt color
creep on to her face at the thought of the young man. He looked to be in his early twenties, and was
very handsome. This made his offer all that more appealing.
Hollywood? What would someone from Hollywood being doing up here? her mother
questioned skeptically. The lines on her face became more visible, her eyebrows bunching closer
together. Her tone of voice made Annabelle rethink her judgment in telling her mother the news,
especially when her mother was in this mood. Whatever she was mad about from earlier was still
on her mind. Oh well, too late to back out now. I cant stop mid-story.
He was looking for people with potential as actors. Annabelle couldnt hold it in anymore.
Everything came out of her mouth at once. And the best part is, ma; he said I had potential!
Potential! As an actress, ma! Annabelle squealed, as most 17-year-old girls do. Her mothers tight
face told Annabelle that her enthusiasm wasnt spreading. Annabelle did her best to convince her

mother. Just think, I could live in Hollywood in a big, marble mansion, and be in movies, and wear
beautiful clothes and get-
Annabelle! her mother snapped. Annabelle stopped mid sentence, leaving her mouth
hanging open. Where did you meet this man?
Annabelle shifted her gaze nervously. I told you ma, I went out with Cecile. We went
downtown.
Where downtown? You dont expect me to believe he was just standing on the streets
waiting to pick up actors? She noticed her daughters eyes would not meet her own, and her hands
fidgeted about underneath the table. It dawned on her that her daughter might not be telling the full
story. She placed both elbows on the table, like an officer would do at an interrogation. You met
him at the saloon, didnt you?
Yes ma, She stared at her lap, and couldnt bring herself to look at her mother.
Her mother rose up out of her chair and towered over Annabelle. What did I tell you about
that place? Its full of tramps and fakes, and isnt a suitable place for you! I have told you this
before Annabelle, and you deliberately disobeyed me! Her mothers voice got dangerously quiet,
and Annabelle knew what was about to happen. She braced herself for more of her mothers
caustic words, because she knew that the worst was still to come. This man who was looking for
actors and actresses, you met him at the saloon? Annabelle nodded. How do you even know that
he was who he claimed to be? Annabelle, you cant just trust strange men! Havent I taught you
better? I am very disappointed in-
He isnt fake, ma! Annabelle cut her mother off. She stood up and the chair scooted out from
under her. Her mother watched carefully as she pulled a small piece of paper out from under the
left side of her blouse. Look ma, this proves it, she exclaimed, setting down the card on the table.
Her mother sighed, scrunched up her face again, and pulled her glasses down off her head to
inspect the card.
George Dagner
Act, Dance, and Co.
1709 Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood

Annabelle, this could be anyone! You met him at a saloon; how do you know you can trust
him? This doesnt even look like a real business card. Her mother picked up the card in one hand
and the candle in the other. Annabelle knew what she was about to do and lunged for the card
over the table, missing it by less than half an inch.
Ma! Give it here! Annabelle cried frantically as she rushed around the table to try and stop
her mother. Let me have it! She crashed in to her mother and intertwined her arms to try and
avert the card from reaching the flame. Her mothers forearm touched the tip of the flame,
making her swear loudly and drop the candle on the table. She turned to face Annabelle.

Now look what youve done! You stupid girl! she yelled as she slapped Annabelles face.
Youll never be an actress and youll never get to live in Hollywood. Youll stay here and help
me with this farm; do you understand? she hissed.
Annabelle felt her eyes tear up and her cheek sting with pain. She watched as her mother
lifted up the card with her uninjured arm and allowed one corner to dip into the flame. The
flame reached and contorted until it had swallowed the card. Her mother dropped the
remaining corner into the flame and lowered her head to examine her injured arm. I HATE YOU
Annabelle sobbed irately. The last thing she saw was her mothers expressionless face rise up so
her eyes could meet her daughters.
Annabelle turned the corner and ran upstairs to her room. She burst into the door-less
frame and looked at her tear-streaked face in the full body mirror. Her mother had really done
it this time. Her one dream was to become an actress. This was her one shot and her mother had
ruined it. Crestfallen, she glanced at her own room. She realized how much disdain she had for
this place. There was no warmth or affection in this household. Everything was grey and
hopeless in her eyes.
Take her room for example. There was a single bed with a tattered quilt that took up most
of her small, barren room. The ceiling hung low and was horribly slanted, thanks to the attic
above her room. Even the floor had warped over time because of the water droplets that had
managed to find their way in. The wooden planks on the ceiling and floor were both rotting and
uneven. All of her clothes were carefully folded at the foot of her bed, as she had no other place
to put them. A single handmade nightstand stood next to her lumpy bed. On it, her few possessions
lay out; a comb, a postcard with the Hollywood sign, and most importantly, a necklace from her
older sister who had died. She angrily snatched all three items off the rickety nightstand and
tucked them into her blouse.
When she touched the locket, a rush of memories cascaded upon her. The coughing, the fever,
those long nights. Her sisters weak expression, and gaunt face. The hole in her family when she
had passed. This was just another bad memory that happened in this house. She brushed a stray
tear out of her eye, took one last glance at her old room, and quietly crept down the stairs.
She could tell her mother was still in the kitchen by the way the candlelight bounced off of
the wall. She tip-toed by the door, and slipped on her shoes, all while trying to stifle her runny
nose. She grabbed her bag, and reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly. The hinges on the door
were rusted, and surely the door would groan, alerting her mother that she was leaving. It seemed
like time passed in slow motion, but surprisingly, the door opened without a creak. Annabelle
thanked her lucky stars, and quietly closed the door behind her. She walked across her porch one
last time, before disappearing into her own bleak future.

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