Each student was given a fortune cookie and told to write a story about the fortune that they received inside. My fortune was "A modest man never talks to himself." Fortune Cookie
The rich man walked down the street with arrogant smugness radiating off him from his slick black hair down to his over priced glossy shoes. As he walked, he moved for no one on the busy sidewalk, but people went out of their way to give him room. His eyes held authority that seemed to scream 'out of my way, or else'. A clearly marked pathway lead the way while the bustling ants around him continued on. He smirked as he strutted, thinking of all the great accomplishments he had made in life. "What a wondrous person I am," he whispered to himself. His money meant everything to him. What he had was who he was. He thought of all that he had had to do to get where he was. As he was whispering his praises, his attention wavered, and he missed the old gypsy that stepped out into his way unknowingly. He ran into her at full pace bringing them both spilling to the floor. Cursing he rose to his feet. "Do you know who I am?" he shouted. "What is wrong with you?" She rose unsteadily to her feet, her wrinkles becoming even more pronounced under the shadow of the rage that towered above her. As he screamed, he waved his hands dramatically, an old trick he had learned that supposedly showed assertive power to the opposing speaker. Unflinching, she blinked slowly and then reached out and wrapped her hand around his arm, clenching. Her eyes seemed to roll back into her head seeming to become white clouds with scattered streams of blood. Her scratchy voice came out to deep, causing the man to tense up in unease. She seemed to be possessed. "A modest man never talks to himself. Beware." Her body drained of energy as her hand fell from his. Blinking repeatedly she gathered herself and quickly darted into the mass leaving the confused man behind. "What was that?" he thought to himself. Alarmed, he continued on with a sense of urgency to his car. He had always been proud of the sleek black Porsche he called his own. But, when he arrived at his parking space, he dropped everything and ran, crying out as it was towed away. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the gypsy lady standing where his car had stood, but when he looked, nothing but a dark shadow sat in the space. A chilling breeze ran across him as the word "modest" echoed in his ears.
Fortune Cookie
The rich man walked down the street with arrogant smugness radiating off him from his slick black hair down to his over priced glossy shoes. As he walked, he moved for no one on the busy sidewalk, but people went out of their way to give him room. His eyes held authority that seemed to scream 'out of my way, or else'. A clearly marked pathway lead the way while the bustling ants around him continued on. He smirked as he strutted, thinking of all the great accomplishments he had made in life. "What a wondrous person I am," he whispered to himself. His money meant everything to him. What he had was who he was. He thought of all that he had had to do to get where he was. As he was whispering his praises, his attention wavered, and he missed the old gypsy that stepped out into his way unknowingly. He ran into her at full pace bringing them both spilling to the floor. Cursing he rose to his feet. "Do you know who I am?" he shouted. "What is wrong with you?" She rose unsteadily to her feet, her wrinkles becoming even more pronounced under the shadow of the rage that towered above her. As he screamed, he waved his hands dramatically, an old trick he had learned that supposedly showed assertive power to the opposing speaker. Unflinching, she blinked slowly and then reached out and wrapped her hand around his arm, clenching. Her eyes seemed to roll back into her head seeming to become white clouds with scattered streams of blood. Her scratchy voice came out to deep, causing the man to tense up in unease. She seemed to be possessed. "A modest man never talks to himself. Beware." Her body drained of energy as her hand fell from his. Blinking repeatedly she gathered herself and quickly darted into the mass leaving the confused man behind. "What was that?" he thought to himself. Alarmed, he continued on with a sense of urgency to his car. He had always been proud of the sleek black Porsche he called his own. But, when he arrived at his parking space, he dropped everything and ran, crying out as it was towed away. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the gypsy lady standing where his car had stood, but when he looked, nothing but a dark shadow sat in the space. A chilling breeze ran across him as the word "modest" echoed in his ears.