name one short story you read in jr. high...

[Toby]

A Wrinkle in Time

prolly my favourite.

[Rarely]

short stories

those who walk away from omelas
where are you going where have you been

[Karl Connor]

ah yeah i wrinkle in time. trippy book

[wally]

My 4th grade teacher gave that book to me to read thinking it would be a challenge. I hated it and stopped reading for pleasure because of it.

Fuck you Mr. Von Beren

[Toby]

i also read Hatchet and Sniper in 6th grade.

[BumbleBeeMouth]

so is jr high from 4 till 11? i dont know how you guys do this, from the looks of things not four, i was reading billy goats bluff at that age...

before 12
Roald Dahls
Northern Lights- Subtle Knife- Amber Spyglass
The hobbit


This is about 12.
Macbeth
Twelfth Night
Romeo and Juliet
Rime of the Ancient Mariner
1984
War of the Worlds
David Copperfield (seriously the worst book i have ever read steerforth can go lick my snot)
Gullivers Travels
Of Mice and Men

[wally]

Count of Monte Cristo was my favorite book in high school

[BumbleBeeMouth]

oh and bloody lord of the flies!

[Toby]

i read that book when i was in elementary school!

[Toby]

i loved reading them ramona books!!!!

she was such a troublemaker

[wally]

<3 Beverly Cleary

[Nimrod's Son]

why is nobody posting short stories? these are mostly novels

[Toby]

because karl conner said it was ok to post novels.

[ammy]

if you read the thread you'd see that novels would be ok too - and we couldn't htink of any short stories!

[Toby]

anyway, all the short stories we read were in those damn text books.

[Toby]

all of great expectations was in my 9th grade text book.

[ammy]

we must have had the same textbook.

[wally]

For some reason, I really liked this poem when we read it in high school


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Thanatopsis
by William Cullen Bryant


To him who in the love of nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty; and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy that steals away
Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart;--
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around--
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--
Comes a still voice. Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix forever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold.

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world -- with kings,
The powerful of the earth -- the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, -- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods -- rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. -- Take the wings
Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings -- yet the dead are there:
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep -- the dead reign there alone.

So shalt thou rest -- and what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men--
The youth in life's fresh spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man--
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side,
By those, who in their turn, shall follow them.
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

[null123]

Call Of The Wild
To Kill A Mockingbird

[Corganist]

Here's some actual short stories. Most of these I read in junior high, though a couple might have been from high school.

The Monkey's Paw
By the Waters of Babylon
The Most Dangerous Game
The Telltale Heart
The Cask of Amontillado
The Lady, or the Tiger?

[BumbleBeeMouth]

Originally Posted by Corganist

The Lady, or the Tiger?

Tough decision

[ohnoitsbonnie]

90% of the books/actual short stories mentioned here i've read in school
but in the realm of short stories, i'd say these are my favorite:
*gaston
*all of god's children need traveling shoes [i know this is a novel, but only a part was read and it was treated like a short story]