Imitating Hemingway

Tristan Sofia
Ms. Clapp
AP Literature and Composition
05, October 2008
Imitating Hemingway
The slender young woman took anxious glances at the round clock that hung above the door. It was crucial for her to make sure that the time was exactly right, otherwise everything would be ruined.
“Ten minutes left,” she muttered to herself. Then, a boy skinnier than her burst through the door below the clock, in a fury.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” the boy panted. The boy took a seat at the dark cherry wood dining room table to catch his breath, while the young woman stared at him, patiently waiting for him to explain himself.
“Well?” the young woman asked.
“You won’t believe what happened, Jeh!” exclaimed the boy.
“What happened?”
“‘Made’s’ coming to my school!”
“So?”
“So? This means I have a chance to be on TV! I could be a star!” shouted the boy, as he climbed on top of the table. He put his hands on his hips and stared with glazed eyes and a giant smile on his face.
“What are you doing?! Get off the table!” his sister yelled. She grabbed his arm and jerked him violently off the table. Landing with a giant thump, the boy flew off the table. Sprawled face up on the floor, the boy groaned and held onto his back.
“What the hell was that for Jeh?”
“Stop being stupid.”
“You’re stupid.”
“Just shut up. You’re being a baby. Get over it.”
“But my back kills now!”
“And something smells gross.”
The siblings sniffed the air which was laced with the aroma of a burning batch of cookies, and directed their attention towards the oven, where a thick cloud of gray smoke streamed out of. Frantic, the young woman glanced at the clock, and realized that she had lost track of time.
“Aiya! I totally forgot about my cookies!” the young woman exclaimed. She scurried towards the oven and switched the dial off, and opened the oven. The smoke poured out of the oven, like a sea of charcoal. The siblings coughed and fanned their arms trying to clear the smoke. While the irritating ringing went off from the fire alarm, there was a sound of crackling coming from the oven. Vibrant colors of red, orange, yellow, and blue flickered from the inside of the oven. Just as she scurried towards the oven, the young woman hurried over to the sink, filled a large plastic bowl with water, and rushed back to the oven, throwing the water on the fire. More smoke came out of the oven, as the fire was put out, and a sizzling noise quickly followed afterwards.
“Damn. That was close,” muttered the young woman. Thoughts ran through her head of the serious consequences that could have followed had she not put out the fire in time. The house could have burnt to a crisp, she could have lost all of her valuable possessions, and she and her young brother could have been roasted to the delight for any parasites. Time is so precious, that one distraction from keeping track of the 10 minutes could have been costly.
“Hey, your cookies look like crap,” said her brother, interrupting her train of thought, pulling out the pan of blackened rocks.
“Just be quiet. Let’s go get some from a bakery.”
As they walked out the door, the young woman took one more glance at the clock.
“Ten minutes,” she thought. This time she would make sure to be on time.