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Bobby

Posted by Christopher Cassise in Storytelling - Chase on
Bobby was walking in the school park when he figured out he forgot his dignity at his house. Bobby asked his friend johanna for a piece of his dignity.

B: Hey
J: Hey
B: You able to give me some dignity, I left mine at home.
J: Sure, how much do you need?
B:I need a lot actually because my parents are coming from Virginia to visit me and they are going to put me down because of the cheating incident.
J: Okay

Bobby was able to receive enough dignity to get through the weekend with his parents.

Absence

Posted by Onjelique Jackson in Storytelling - Chase on
​It all started yesterday morning when I was finally woken up by my alarm clock that's been playing "Fireworks" by Katy Perry and Chio talking about the upcoming episode of Jersey Shore. As I rolled out of bed I felt sore and achy, but instead of feeling sad I was ecstatic that my new work-out routine was actually working. So I began my normal stretching routine when I realize I can't quite turn completely side to side. Strange. I make my way to school and I am continuously reminded of the horrible ache in my back. And of what my optimistic attitude hope would happen (it would most certainly get better), it most certainly did not. Instead it got unbearably worse. At this point, near the end of the day, I can barely stand. So I call my dad and he tells me he's working and can not pick me up. Then Deja calls my brothers girlfriend, Nina, to come pick me up because I refused to call because I didn't want to inconvenience her. When Deja hands me the phone I wait to see if she'll pick up. She doesn't. However, she immediately calls back and Ricky picks up. 

"Hello...yea" then he laughs and hands me the phone

"...this grown man on the phone, Where is Pookie!"

"Are you still talking, he's not on the phone anymore"

"Ooooh my goodness who is that picking up your phone?"

"Ricky"

"Oh, I was about to say who this grown man picking up your phone, Hahaha, but wassup Pookie"

I then explain to her the situation

"Pookie! This could be serious. You know what, call your mom and see if she wants me to take you to the hospital, how could this happen!"

"I fine I mean you can finish what your doing and then come up here."

"No, Pookie I'm on my way now"

In about an hour and a half I'm stiffly laying in my bed singing also to Natasha Bedingfield "Strip Me" waiting on my mom to tend to what appears to be a back spasm caused by the unknown and provoked by every movement. 
 

How Rude!

Posted by Taylor Valentine in Storytelling - Chase on
My long strides matched the tempo of the music in my ears as I pushed myself even harder on the elliptical.  The timer read 23:29; my 30 minutes of cardio were almost over.  I turned my gaze back to the TV, showing Giada De Laurentiis frying chocolate ravioli for Valentines Day.  As she pulled the first one out of the pan, I saw a man standing beside me, too close to my body to have simply paused to watch the program.  I turned my head and smiled, realizing in the process that I recognized him.  

"Oh, hi! How have you been?" I asked, removing my earbuds.
"Pretty good.  How's Trevor?"
"Fine.  You know, just chugging along through middle school. And Ethan?"
"He's doing great."  An uncomfortable grin formed on his lips. "Are you almost done?"
"Yeah, I have about 5 more minutes." I said, deciding I could cut a few minutes out of my workout for his sake.
"Because I had signed up for that machine and-"
"Oh! I'm sorry.  Here, you can go ahead.  Sorry about that."

The hidden demand took me by surprise. I jumped off the machine and proceeded to wipe it down.  I bit my lip; no point in getting angry. I maintained my fake smile throughout the rest of the conversation.  Rarely was I kicked off a machine.  It happened occasionally with strangers, but never did I expect an acquaintance to deny me of my final five minutes.  

Cold

Posted by Emma Connell in Storytelling - Chase on
The other day when I woke up it was cold. When I went to take out the trash it was cold. When I was waiting for my bus it was cold. While waiting for my other bus it was cold. As I walked into school I was still cold. The room where I had my first class was cold. My second class was cold. The school bathroom was cold. The back stairways were cold, actually they're freezing. When I stepped outside of school to go home it was cold. While I was waiting for my bus it was cold. When I was waiting for my other bus it was cold. When I walked in my house it was warm. I like my house.

Monopoly

Posted by Katherine Roman in Storytelling - Chase on
Me: Kevin ( my younger brother) play monopoly with me!


Kevin: I don't feel like it kat.


Me: PLease I really wanna play!


Kevin: eww that's what she said.


Me:come on kevin, for real... Lets play man.


Kevin: I'm really tiered of loosing Kat, like the game god's hate me, I never get to pass Go, I always get sent to jail, I never collect Free Parking money I only end up buying the ghetto spots on the board and Im always first to be bankrupt, I really can not emotionally take it anymore.


Me:.... so no..?



Keving: No.

DRUGS, MONEY, AND CORRUPTION

Posted by Nathan Giello in World History - Block on
​Ceasar: Open, Middle of the summer, thuderes yelling, and fighting, “Bang!” singular gunshot rings out, attention focuses large bolder, Ceasar appears at the top of the bolder.

My friends! Welcome.  I am glad to see you have come, I’m glad to see you all leave your nice cool home into the heat of summer. But now is not the time for small talk. You’re standing right now in the center of the canyon tunnel pass, the biggest  drug route known to us. Each of you are the best of the best in you cartels, 10 cartels sending 10 delegates, each cartel having 4,000, and there’s over a hundred more small cartels. That’s over 40,000 hardcore members, 40,000 more counting, affiliates and 30,000 more not organised but ready to fight. Thats more then 100,000 soldiers that are ready to fight! Now there no then tens of thousand policia in the whole country, giving us a massive avantage. Muy buenao, no?
[begins to pace]
Now think of it one all powerful force. One Cartel. One cartel that controls everything! Nothing would move, without us allowing it to happen! Think of it, we can control everything, the air ways, the border, everything! We could tax the crime syndicates, and control the policia. We could own this country.

The problem in the past has consistantly been the policia turning us against one another. We have been unable to see the truth, because we’ve been fighting for traffic ways, or precincts, and our turf, our little piece of turf. que el total de mierda mis amigos. The turf is ours by right. It is all ours!

With an alliance we would be able to slowly take america as well, branching to every state, controlling their gangs, and crime. We can remold the country into our own image of power. We would have the ability to produce 300 times the amount of coke, marijuana, and meth. And with all this extra product we would be send our products over seas, becoming an international Cartel.

All we have to do is keep up the general truce.”



Tyrone Biggums : Open, sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night, rocking back and forth, pale, sweaty, and paranoid.

I’m a user of some if the most dangerous drugs in the world. I'm talking about cocaine, but not just cocaine, heroin and any other hard drug you’ve heard about. If it could get me high I’m on it. But until now i had to get my drugs from different cartels.

You’re goin be shocked to hear it, I know I was but there is talk about all the cartels are going to form an alliance. Yeah, an alliance,  is the most dangerous thing in the world and the reason it's the most dangerous is because they are deadly and powerful apart, with them as a one thing man, prices are goin through the fuckin roof.

Druggies use to get high so we can escape problems. But with this alliance we are goin to be screwed, shit it wont just be druggies, it will be the pigs too. the cops will be screwed too, they are out numbered, out gunned, have less then half of the resources the cartels do.



Robert Joseph Smith : Open, leaning back on a chair, boots on the table.

I hate  fucking mexicans! All their drugs, and guns, and the death they bring with them.
Why?
[lunges forward in the chair]
They took somthing from me, they took everything from me.  things that i can never get back, they took him away, without even a warning, or a reason. He was incecnt, he was just a boy. after he was killed, she became depressed, an...and, killed herself.
But thats none of your fuckin concern you little prick.
they compensated for what they did very well, offered me a job, pay, very nice pay. You know what I’m sayin santos?
I know i could get locked up if i continue to do buisness with them.
So? So nothin,  i don’t fuckin care! I make more a week then i do in a year, smuggling them over the border, and lettin them destribute wmd’s and drugs. Whos goin to say anything anyway? You? Hahahaha, you would never, who do u think IA is goin to beleive? a rookie fresh out the academy, or a tenured vet? Hahaha even if you snitch on me, they will be after you, and thats the last thing you want right?
How bout this, i talk to Ceasar, see if hes got an openin, and you could get a slice of the bread. What do you say to that, hmmmm?
Well think about this while your at it, you would make twice as much a week, then you would in a year. Your kids would be set for life, you and your wife too.
[Leans back into the chair, putting boots on the table]
Ok, i’ll give you till tomarra then the deals closed. Oh and by the way, if you mention this to anybody, i might make a visit to you wife and kids, do you under stand me?
Good. Now go check the east wing.



Michael Gabriel Santos : open, Sitting at the dining room table looking at bills

Shit!
[puts bills down, puts his hand on his forehead slowly swiping back]
Why did he tell me that?
What is the pourpse of tellin me that he works for Ceasar.  is he trying to test me. Is he even legit?
He didnt seem like he was playin around.
And if he wasnt screwin around, why would he offer me a “position” with him?
what the hell should i do? Should I take the deal, he says he makes a lot, and money is a real scarce thing now-a-days.
I really need the money. WE really  need the money, its not every day someone offers you a six didget salary, we’re bearly gettin by with what im making now, and
between the kids schooling, both the morgages, mom and dads care.
But if I get cought, then everythings screwed, my family needs me. My family needs the money.
And even if i dont do this, what would i do bout smith, i couldnt live with myself if i just let him continue to endanger American citizens, but i cant report him, he knows where i live, and i have to protect my family.
And the likely hood of us getting cought is slim.
But i just dont know.
I cant beleive that im really trying to decide between morals, or money.
FUCK!!!!
Thats it i’ve made my choise, im goin to........

High Voice

Posted by Narcissa Haskins in Storytelling - Chase on
So last night was the funniest thing in the world. My brother sent my mother and I a box of chocolate covered fruit for valentines day along with a balloon. So I was sitting there with my mother and her friend and I noticed that my mom looked a little sad; so I decided to suck the helium out of the ballon to make my voice really high. I started talking and I sounded like I was apart of the cartoon. My mom laughed so hard that she was crying. I kept calling her and asking her if she wanted to try but she was laughing so hard that she couldn't speak. After all of the helium was gone, I was so high to the point that I thought my head was gonna roll of my shoulders. The funniest thing was that I had a terrible after taste in my mouth because the type of balloon it was. Usually I suck the chemical out of the rubber balloons but this time it was the metallic one. I was just happy I made my mother happy. 

A sentence is worth 250 words...

Posted by John DeSalis in Storytelling - Chase on

Be it the 7 Eagles Jerseys, 9 Phillies Jerseys (1 of which is signed), 4 Flyers Jerseys (2 were actually worn on the ice), 4 Basketball Jerseys (1 is Michael Jordan’s McDonalds High School Jersey), 1 College Football Jersey (Joe Namath Alabama), as well as a jersey worn by Donovan Mcnabb in his rookie year, and many more jerseys that I have put away in my garage; But because of all of the choices, the one I have decided to wear today is just one of the many Phillies Jerseys, with the number of one of their “Aces” and Some of my friends have told me that I should consider selling some of my “Collection” or donate them to a charity that gives clothes to kids in poverty in third world countries, so I turned around and told them “You got to be out of your mind to even think for a second I would just give away these jerseys, but I suppose it would be a good thing,” so they told me “ that is just selfish if you think them kids don’t deserve to have them jerseys that you are not even wearing,” so being the type of person I am, I simply took only the jerseys that had no worth of EVER wearing and sent them to the charity organization that takes care of the distribution so a couple of days went by and I had received a couple of letters from places I had never heard of with pictures enclosed of the kids who got the jerseys.

The Ride Home

Posted by Oliver Dzierzewicz in Storytelling - Chase on
I was sitting on the trolley on my way to 15th street, nothing unusual as so much goes for my daily routine. I get to 15th street and I begin to wait for the train to come rushing through on the tracks, standing as close as I can to the edge of the tracks so that I could feel the rush of air come through as the train passes. I look over to my right as I see a bunch of other kids harass this one other kid. The kids were speaking in a different language, sadly it was not Polish but something Slavic, probably Albanian. At the point when I looked over it was hard to tell if they were just playing around or if they were actually serious, but as time went by waiting for the train, I could tell that they were serious. I typically am the type of person that would not approach a problem if it is not mine because involving myself would only bring up a bigger problem probably for myself and the victim. As the train moves in on the tracks, I feel the whip of air hit me as it passes by. I could only help but think, how much that kind of bullying affects people and how it just can not be ignored sometimes. It really is a shame things come down to physical contact because of the weakness in other's people self esteem or even possibly boredom? What has this world come down to? What is our next generation going to be like, will things become worse? 

Accidental Trail

Posted by Davonte Martin in Storytelling - Chase on
We entered the basement  prepared to catch The Greenfield Strangler in the middle of committing what we thought to be his fifth murder, however when we arrived in the basement of 4302 S. Spruce Lane, there was nothing there but an empty room and the echo of our voices yelling "NYPD", the basement filled with the smell of ammonia and Pine-Sol which told us that he had perhaps cleansed his basement to hide any evidence... or maybe it was what he wanted us to think,  but nothing made sense, all of the clues and evidence that he left behind lead us to this address at this specific time; from The Strangler leaving a DVD copy of "The Usual Suspects" that only played through the first several crime scenes, to his gruesome idea of carving the numbers 4-3-0-2 into each of his victims, leaving all four of his victims corpse on the south of every street, The Strangler calling dispatch at 4:32pm after every murder he'd committed, and this street that the killer gave us during the last call to dispatch, nothing was clear and for the first time I felt that we were at a dead end, that was until I pulled up my pad which contained observations from every crime scene and I looked at every detail, Jim Scippio found in a deserted parking lot south of "Gold's Gym" on Singapore Ave, Diamin Johnson found beaten and strangled on south of 25th and Diamond, Nial Braxton found in an Alley on South Street, under her mutilated corpse was a brochure advertising a visit to East Africa and a tour of the Nile River, Shahir Martin found in a bush South of MLK Drive, I started to realize that every victim was found with with some sort of evidence that was a homophone of their name, and our initial suspect Terry Mathews was an English teacher at a local Public School, our missing victim Kristen Matthews was a former student of his and there is in fact a 4300 block of Christain Avenue not far from here.

250 words

Posted by Marjorie Moreno in Storytelling - Chase on
At the house of the victim, the mother sat quietly staring at the clean floor -where once was the deadly bloody body of her only son-usually when couples lose a son or a daughter they tend to blame each other; instead this couple were holding hands all the time, crying on each other’s shoulders (but it was clear that even though everybody in the investigation department expected the mother to be the sensitive one, it was the other way around; the mother had total control of the situation, and like unusual, the father was completely submissive to the mother) there was something special in this case, the behavioral agents were surprised when they saw the victim’s room: It was incredibly clean for a boy’s room (the dirty laundry was in order, the clothes were properly fold, no dirt was visible), there was no posters on the wall (the walls were so clean that it was as if they were painted the night before), the room didn’t have a funky smell (instead there was an essence of vanilla in the air), there was a journal under the bed and here is what it was written in the last page: "I’m sorry for all the I could of do but I never did: I’m sorry for forgetting your birthday, I’m sorry for all the things I said to you last night, I’m sorry for not telling you about my troubles, I’m sorry for the demon I’ve become, I’m sorry for not being the son you always wanted"

250 Word Sentence: Hoping for a Joke

Posted by Lenea Harris in Storytelling - Chase on

Victoria sat on the cushion of the windowsill in deep thought, switching between glancing down at the dark vacant street below her, which was occupied by only two sleeping cars; one blue, one white, and then up at the sparkling starry sky while she hoped that at least one of the burning bodies of gases had received all of her telepathic wishes and had sent her back some sort of confirmation that earlier that day when Bobby Johnson had approached her in the hallway and grabbed her hand to pull her aside to say “Vicky, I… well, we…. I mean, I should first say that I… no wait, she became…  sweet heart Lisa and I are having a baby,” he was jokingly referring to the most popular senior health project where the students pair up and take care of a child, and that when she laughed and shoved him playfully, replying, “Omigod, shut up- really? It’s such a shame; that child will die in days,” he would’ve smiled and agreed with a laugh of his own while wrapping his arms around her comfortably and reminding her of her future in bearing his children instead of remaining serious and grabbing her hand, holding onto it and refusing to let go until she undoubtedly understood that he was seriously and literally going to have a child with Lisa, who was not only her best friend since pre- school, but the one who had introduced Bobby to her as her first cousin, but dragging her along through this disturbing joke was just too much fun for him.    

250 Word Sentence

Posted by Dominque Miller in Storytelling - Chase on
As I watched his rehearsed, unduly ridiculous speech, which I had heard before on many occasion, with his overly fitted suited with matching printed tie screaming creepy politician who will stand in the crowd, kissing babies in hopes of reelection to keep his seat of power that he may not have truly deserved, if he politician’s uniform was not enough his tacky overly decorated office covered with awards, accolades, accomplishments, and newspapers covers with his gleaming white ‘trust-me-if-you-want-to’ smile screamed at me, giving me more than enough reasons to hate this city and its political leaders who we ignorantly allow to keep their positions, I knew that I did not want to be standing in the crowd of kids they believed were the best at a sport that they: 1. Knew nothing about 2. Couldn’t care less, and 3. Had no interest in learning more, we were just another step in his process to remain the sole ruler of our adjudication system, but there was one woman, whose name was Roxanne (her last name I cannot remember), the youngest judge in Philadelphia she stood at a height of about 5 foot, with her small stature that was covered by a black over sized judge robe, and a smile bright enough to make light up a dreary court room, she changed my opinion about our court system, even though we were not able to see her proceed over a real trial, her love for the law and everything it stands for protruded out louder the ignorant speech of district attorney.

 

250 word sentence (plus ending)

Posted by Robert Glynn in Storytelling - Chase on
One bright, warm, summer day in a green, luscious, forest full of oxygen enriched air and wonderful, colorful, small confused owls (because it is a bright day, and it is not night time, when owls usually are awake and active) were flying around the trees, whose leaves are the most radiant green out of any of the forests within one thousand five hundred fifty six miles (even though this forest is the only forest within three hundred forty five miles around, the other forests within one thousand five hundred fifty six miles did have trees with radiant leaves, but none of them had leaves that were even close to half as radiant as the leaves in the forest with the wonderful, colorful, small confused owls that were flying around during the day instead of at night) are loved by the owls because they are so radiant and green, so maybe they are not in fact confused, but just so excited about the radiant green leaves that they changed their typical sleeping schedule just so they could see the bright green leaves sparkle in the hot, brilliant, red and orange and yellow sun; meanwhile, on the forest floor, beneath all of the excitement of the owls and the radiant green leaves, there lived a hermit in a small blue hut who was cooking dinner for himself, a delicious rabbit dinner that was going to be very tasty because he caught the rabbit earlier in the morning while the owls were asleep. He ate the rabbit. Then he died. Someone must have poisoned his rabbit.  

This House

Posted by Alexis Beren in Storytelling - Chase on

If this house could talk, boy let me tell you it wouldn’t be happy.

Every word you here would be muffled by the cries

Of a house that’s been sufferin for so long, too long. 

This house has seen so many tears from so many eyes.

Its heard so many words from so many mouths

That are never meant to leave ya mind.

This house would be tellin you that it knows more pain than anyone should.

It knows a girl who has been crying for so long she forgot how to smile.

It knows her daughter who feels so unwanted

That she doesn’t think shes even worthy of this house she calls home.

It knows the mother, the one who tries to feel like everything is ok

Who doesn’t let no one see her cry

Who is a young mother and a young grandmother

Who hides those pills in her room till the time she needs them

This house knows the man who owns it

The man who instills fear in every person that steps in that house

The man who has hurt so many with the words of his mouth and the sting of his hands

Then this house would tell you how scared it is.

It would tell you that it is so scared

That little girl

Just a baby just turned 5

Hardly knows the world.

No one wants her to be like that sister of hers

No one wants her to grow up in pain

But this house is so scared because it knows that this little girl needs her sister

This house knows that this little girl will one day have to know

Her sister aint even her real sister

This house would tell you that it can see

This little girl is gonna have to live without a dad and with a broken mother.

So let me tell you if this house could talk there would be so much pain

Global warmin wouldn’t mean nothin 

The flood of our tears, of your tears would flood the world on its own.

When that day comes that this house does talk

Don’t ever forget that it is broken and in pain

But this house has always been strong enough

Strong enough to protect a family who needs love that this unspoken house gives.

250 words of fun

Posted by James Seward in Storytelling - Chase on
​Minato Asagi was your normal high school student, who was an A, B student, captain of the kendo club, Student council member and boyfriend to the prettiest girl in school, Yukari Todowashi, and although he was average at most things, the one thing he excelled at over any other was card games; Be it Yu-Gi-Oh or Blackjack, Minato was the undisputed champion but, all of that changed when one day, when the resident reserved girl of the school, Hinata Yamagishi, beat him at his own game, then claimed to hate him and card games in general; Minato, determined to find out more, Minato follows her and is suddenly dragged into her world as they are attacked, his powers activate and he is teleported to the far off land of Sensori, where the monsters are abundant, people are warriors and any video game nerd would call paradise, and now, with his powers, his new teammate and his will, he must learn to survive and unravel the secrets in this card based death world as the clock

 

 

I just can't take it.

Posted by Morgan Craig-Williams in Storytelling - Chase on
  i sit in the house all day everyday, like a miserable witch.
 I can't ever do anything with my friends.
 I can't ever go out.
 Shopping?
 Don't even ask
Movies?
 Forget about it
 I can't even go away for college.
 i know I'm young but I'm about to see the world
 Doesn't that count for something?
 I know I don't get the best grades,
 but Im dumb cause I dont?
 I just don't get it,
 Doesn't she know the more she smother me,
 the more I wanna break free.
 

Story #4: The Winter of Pain

Posted by Kimberlea Talington in Storytelling - Chase on
In the fall of my junior year of high school, I started to develop a new ailment. It seems I would have a stuffy nose everyday and it seemed every other week, I'd end up with a cold. I didn't know what was going on. Finally, mom took me to the doctor and I found out I was getting sinus infections. So I was put on an antibiotic and was sent on my way. Finally it was cleared up and I was all better.

For the first couple of months, I kept getting infections and having to take antibiotics for them. Then, one day during winter break, I couldn't eat anything. I thought it was nothing so I just ignored it. As the day went on, I got sicker and sicker until I couldn't even move. My parents called the doctor and they just said I was dehydrated so I just had to keep drinking liquids, but sadly those didn't help. My parents took me to the doctor's office and had to run test on me. They found out that I had a stomach infection.

"How did that happen?" I asked. It turned out that I got it from taking too many antibiotics in such a short amount of time. I was out of school for a week, unable to eat anything but Girl Scout shortbread cookies.

Once I was better, I had to be taking back to the doctor. They said I had lost 6 pounds. I finally got back into school, I missed so much work. I promised not to get that sick ever again

250 Word Sentence

Posted by Alexandra McGrorty in Storytelling - Chase on
I could get all creative with this piece of writing, I suppose, I could add all the flourishes and adjectives and flowing description that would give it more mass and content so I could somehow reach two hundred and fifty words, I could think of some event and describe it down to every last insignificant, tiny, minute detail, I could just keep on finding more and more descriptions to include, abuse the thesaurus to death and do this the proper way that I was told to; however, I find that completely, ridiculously, insanely impossible and I don’t think I can even get past one hundred words, if I can even reach that goal,  I’ll be lucky if I can even make it that far; I know this is supposed to help me structure sentences or purvey thoughts or something good like that, but I don’t see how I can even manage to do it, because I can’t focus on one singular thought, this turned into a giant run-on sentence before I was even past the first line, but I can’t think of much else to put because this is just completely beyond me and using grammar this poor (my own fault, I know it can be accomplished somehow, but I have no idea how to, personally) is really just breaking my heart and depressing me.

 

A 249 Word Sentence With Viscount Odin Prudence Monroe

Posted by Christine Walden in Storytelling - Chase on

It was noon when I told her -- her being a woman named Roberta who is prone to hysterics at the sheer mention of Monaco, bastard children, blonds, brunettes, tabby cats, or breakfast cereal due to the rather infamous actions of her eldest son at the end of the oh so harrowing France-Australia war -- of the very dead gentleman now adorning her critically acclaimed gnome sanctuary (a body which came to be in its present state, oh Reader, when a young, vivacious, albeit paranoid and often ridiculous woman from a small Minnesota town, who decided to leave her childhood home to join this small grouping of wayward individuals in Montana, including the befuddled Roberta, in the hopes of escaping the seemingly ever-present feeling of dread that stemmed from her growing realization that the world existed beyond the scope of her limited and often quite morose imagination, perceived she was in danger and being stalked as she walked home from her unfulfilling employment as the town’s assistant deputy sidewalk and bike lane inspector - a familiar feeling for this paranoid lass which tends to manifest itself most aggressively in the evening hours of a mildly comfortable day with a 50% chance of rain after ten, when she decided for safety’s sake to attack the assailant that was “undoubtedly” prowling behind with her purse bayonet, killing him instantly with his last thought being one of confusion as to why this crazed woman stabbed him while he was walking to his sister’s house.)