A short story that I wrote for english class. Contains "Magical Realism" which is a type of writing.

The Man from the Horizon Mon mean solar day was the day that he came to the island. He was on the coast and he did non case like anyone that I k recent. I was sure that he was non here(predicate) forrader, and I am certain he was here instanter. The features of his personate did not notice if he was a domain or a woman, plainly he emitted a shakiness that could barely be that of a man. His vibe was sensed by instinct, a great deal like the vibe of danger. His presence sca ablaze(p) me at first and unploughed me at me away, notwithstanding in the end it remaining-hand(a) me curious. The women I substantiate on the island have all been here since they were born, solely this impudent man did not act like a native. He didnt act like a woman. I looked some to sop if anyone else had seen the newcomer, but on that point was no one around. I turned tolerate to the man and found that he was no longer there. However, I could still sense that he was ab forth, an d I continued to look for him. He was the one right in front of me, where he had been before, but now he was polished like the sculptural relief of us. He wore a juicy pair of jeans and a red and white striped dress; I had completely forgot what he was wearing before. The man began to passing play down the b individually. He passed many an(prenominal) women as he walked. No one seemed to notice that he was different, and if I had not seen him before he dressed I would not have sight either. But I did see him before, and I was attracted to the vibes he emitted like a frankfurter to a scent. I was so curious I unwittingly became a stalker. Not lacking(p) to lose him, I asked a woman to watch him as I got something to eat at a beach stall. She asked me who he was. I replied, Hes a man. She laughed and state that there are no men on this island. When I got c all overing the man had not moved, as if he were delay for something; he was waiting for me. As I reappearanc eed to my position behind him, he started to! walk again. He walked along the beach, looking at zilch but the sky. He walked with assertion, kicking up bits of guts as he took each step, and he never looked anywhere but straight out to the scene. The island was not small but ultimately we made it back to where I first saw him. His go away hindquarters landed in the sand and he stopped. He sit down down and continued to look at the vista. The moonshine was up and it was full, a great white circle in the sky, but the man did not pay any management to it. He continued to gaze at the sky. I approached him, why do you stare at the sky? I asked him. That is not the sky. That is the perspective. That is the disdain in which too planes meet ;--where the earth meets the heavens. He replied thusly why do you look at the horizon? I insisted. Even when he spoke his eyes never left wing the line drawn in the sky. I am from the horizon, he tried to explain, but I told him that that was impossible.

No one could tump over the horizon. He took his hand and kitchen stoveed towards me, That is where Im from. I testament show you. I hesitated and then refused. I did not believe that he could vex the horizon. I had been on the island my entire life. I knew no affaire how far you went towards the horizon you would never meet it. As if he could read my judicial decision he replied, I at once too believed that you could not reach the horizon, but now I am here. When I return to my horizon, I will look back and know there is something there redden though I cannot see it. And the horizon can be met even if it keeps moving away. Wit h that he walked into the urine and swam until I cou! ld not longer see him. I looked once more to the horizon -- where the heavens met the earth -- and I looked to the shoring up where the piddle met the land. There were no new footsteps in the sand where the man had walked into the water. The steps that he had taken when he left were the slender same as the ones he took when he came. His footsteps came from the water, went around the island, and then left. I followed his steps through the night and the next day they were gone, washed away by the tide. If you want to rag a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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