Shifty Narrative
I walked up the path to my house, steeling myself for the storm of fury when I walked in the door. My fingers gripped the doorknob so hard that my knuckles turned white as I slowly turned it to the left. I opened the door and shut my eyes, knowing the yelling was coming. “Why’d you only get a B- on your math exam?” she shrieked, standing up and walking over to the door, her hands on her hips.
Well, okay, so maybe she didn’t shriek, but she was definitely upset. I stepped up into the house and pushed my way past her, shrugging off both my backpack and my coat. “I actually thought that was a pretty good score for me,” I replied drily as I rolled my eyes while my back was to her.
“You know darn well that’s not good enough!” she yelled, causing my father to walk in from the living room. “You need to keep your grades up for college! This is the year they really look at!” she said before she turned to my dad, pleading him with her eyes to agree with her, but he just shook his head and smirked.
The woman had used these exact lines a hundred times since I had started my freshman year. I was now a junior. “Mom, my grades are great in all my other classes and they look at multiple things. I’ll be in my room, let me know when dinner’s ready,” I said coldly, tears in my eyes as I pushed past her once again and walked down the hallway. I slammed my door behind me and locked it quickly so that she couldn’t follow. Man, she was the biggest pain in the ass ever! I hated her. She was never happy with anything and it always made me feel like shit. She made my blood boil.
I needed to learn soon not to let her get to me. Maybe I was the drama queen my father said I was.
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I made this story of a “shifty” narrative by using the first person, and making the protagonist of the story just a little over the top with her reactions. In this way, the readers of this piece find her just a little unbelievable and assume that she’s not very credible because of her point of view on things. To make this story more believable/truthful, I would tell the story through the father’s point of view, only because for the most part, he stays out of the conflict.
Well, okay, so maybe she didn’t shriek, but she was definitely upset. I stepped up into the house and pushed my way past her, shrugging off both my backpack and my coat. “I actually thought that was a pretty good score for me,” I replied drily as I rolled my eyes while my back was to her.
“You know darn well that’s not good enough!” she yelled, causing my father to walk in from the living room. “You need to keep your grades up for college! This is the year they really look at!” she said before she turned to my dad, pleading him with her eyes to agree with her, but he just shook his head and smirked.
The woman had used these exact lines a hundred times since I had started my freshman year. I was now a junior. “Mom, my grades are great in all my other classes and they look at multiple things. I’ll be in my room, let me know when dinner’s ready,” I said coldly, tears in my eyes as I pushed past her once again and walked down the hallway. I slammed my door behind me and locked it quickly so that she couldn’t follow. Man, she was the biggest pain in the ass ever! I hated her. She was never happy with anything and it always made me feel like shit. She made my blood boil.
I needed to learn soon not to let her get to me. Maybe I was the drama queen my father said I was.
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I made this story of a “shifty” narrative by using the first person, and making the protagonist of the story just a little over the top with her reactions. In this way, the readers of this piece find her just a little unbelievable and assume that she’s not very credible because of her point of view on things. To make this story more believable/truthful, I would tell the story through the father’s point of view, only because for the most part, he stays out of the conflict.