Last night, on my way to my church I almost hit a deer.
I have never had a car accident before, and I am a rather careful driver, so that scared the soda pop out of me. It was dark out and there were two deer that ran out into the middle of the road. One of them saw my car and ran back into the wooded area, but the other just stood there.
I stopped my car and flashed my lights on bright to let the other cars know I was stopping, and that I had a reason for doing so. The deer was beautiful, but it just stood there. Finally it ran back off with the other one, and I was able to go on my way to church, and I was able to laugh at the irony.
The last story I wrote involved a car wreck and a deer. My professor made a big deal out of it, and I just brushed it off. I hadn’t meant it to be such a big deal, but apparently it is a huge literary device. I guess I can see that a bit more now. At least now I can go back and edit the story again; adding in a few more true to life feelings. That’s my generally feeling towards most things – "Hey, at least I can get a good story out of it."