Here's the final project for the writing class. We had to submit part of a creative piece, limited to 500 words, of something that is over 500 words or going to be over 500 words. So, you can tell that this piece is continued, yet you're not sure. I chose a creative non-fiction, or a "faction" if you will.
It hasn't been graded yet. She'll probably tear it up, lol, but that's ok. I only missed one on the final! (oh, and the first 320 words were on the blog a week a so or ago so it may seem familiar at first).
The Life Of
John Garrison
A.K.A. John Johnston, Jeremiah Johnson, and “Liver Eating Johnson”
Seeking refuge in the woods, away from the horrors of war and his past, Jeremiah knew that life here would be hard but he did not realize the first winter would be this hard. Jeremiah was cold. His feet were wet and frozen, he was afraid to move his toes for fear they would break like ice sickles. His legs were so cold that they were numb, as were his hands and fingers. He had frost on is eyelashes, on his beard and mustache. His jaw was sore from clenching his shivering teeth for so long. His hunger was gnawing a hole through to his backside, his last meal being two days ago. He’d already missed a rabbit, two squirrels and this morning’s fishing didn’t pan out either. In this time of desperation, he hoped his aim was true. If he missed the porcupine, he would just have to go hungry until tomorrow. The thought of a warm fire was welcoming but the thought of only warm water for supper was not.
Taking a deep breath, Jeremiah blew into his cupped hands repeatedly, yet silently, to warm them with the hopes of gaining more movement from his fingers. Trying to relax the shivers out of his muscles, he carefully aimed his barrel at the porcupine. Squeezing slowly, a loud bang and a puff of smoke ensued! Did he hit it? Standing up, his cold and creaking muscles and joints seemed louder than walking on dry twigs; he started to walk over to where the porcupine should be laying. So many hopes and prayers were weighing heavily on this moment.
Wearing his new porcupine hat, Jeremiah set off for the day’s chores. He was beginning to feel adjusted to life in the woods. Today he would gather wood for fire, check his animal traps, and decide where he would plant a garden when spring arrives. With a belly full of porcupine stew, he didn’t notice he was being watched until it was too late. Suddenly, he felt the heat and smelled the stench of the breath the same time the slobber and teeth clamped down upon his arm. The full force of a train knocked him down as a huge, moist, dirty paw hit and pushed his head down into the ground, ripping skin and flesh to the bone.
