Creative Writing-Creative Narrative

One day, on her way to her mother’s sanctuary, Sophie spots a bush meat trader, along with a small young bonobo walking with him. Sophie could easily tell that this bonobo had been through very rough times, since he had a few fingers missing, small bald patches, thick ropes coiled around him, and he was grinning from ear to ear. Anybody else would think that he was really happy. However, hearing this from her mom, who was an expert on bonobos, a grinning bonobo most likely meant that it was terrified. Despite her normal belief: Humans before animals, feeling pity and love for the bonobo, and wanting to impress her mom, in hope of getting her attention for once, she buys the bonobo. Even though the man had retailed the bonobo for a hundred dollars, Sophie gives him sixty, which was all her pocket money. Since hunting and selling bonobos is the only way to feed his family, the man greedily accepts. When Sophie shows the bonobo to her mom, she gets the opposite reaction of pride from her, fury. For years, her mom had fought and worked hard to stop bush meat traders, like that man and it had started to show progress, however, Sophie may have just singlehandedly, unwittingly encouraged the bonobo black market all over again. Sure enough, the same man returns at the sanctuary, along with two shivering infant bonobos in a cage. Sophie and her mom know very well that the only way hunters take baby bonobos is by killing their entire family first. Sophie’s mom angrily sends him off, then calmly discusses with Sophie that the bonobo, who Sophie named Otto, is now Sophie’s responsibility. Hearing the word “responsibility” clicks in Sophie’s mind. She realizes that, for the first time in her life, she is responsible for another living being, that Otto’s life is in her hands, considering his really bad state. “During my childhood, I’d only half

When the most important things in life are in danger, people do their best to protect it with all of their might, and they’ll never stop until it’s safe. A story by Rudyard Kipling, Rikki-tikki-tavi is about a young mongoose, Rikki-tikki-tavi was carried away from his home land by a flood. He was washed ashore into the Segowlee cantonment, and was maintained by a British family, who lives in a bungalow. When being fed and cared for, Rikki-tikki-tavi develops a strong bond with the British family, and this leads to the mongoose to care for the family, dedication, and the bravery to save the beloved family. Soon after Rikki-tikki-tavi starts to settle down, he meets two black cobras, Nag and Nagaina. Both of them want to have control over the

“Dog is very tasty.” She explained, oblivious to my parents and my stares of horror. “You eat it?” My mother asked, as though she hadn’t heard the woman correctly. “I guess that means they don’t waste anything here.” My father joked, possibly as a way to lighten the mood. “What about the horses?” I dared to ask. The woman nodded with a grin. “Horse is very good as well. Would you like to try some one day soon?” She offered. We all shook our heads quickly. I found myself thinking of the small island, and the animals that lived on it. It made sense, that they’d eat the animals. There was no point in wasting perfectly good food. But to me, a pure bred American, the idea of eating a precious pet was simply

People incautiously toss their trash into the ocean or to the sidewalks as if it is a giant trash can. It is causing the oceans to become dirtier every year. Speaking on the bottom half of marine life and people everywhere, nobody wants to swim in water with used straws, crinkled up wrappers, or old deflated balloons. Not only is it un-enjoyable, but it is taking an animal’s life everyday. Many of you have probably watched the movies, read the book or heard the story of Winter, the bottlenose dolphin with a prosthetic tale.

Think of a world without entertainment that is cold, dark, and having no way to cook. Kaleki, Richard Erdoes, Alfonso Ortiz, and Charles Perrault retell three stories that talk about the animals that help to prevent this kind of world. Kaleki retold “How Stories Came to Earth”, Erdoes and Ortiz worked together on “Coyote Steals Fire”, and “Master Cat: Puss in Boots” was written by Perrault. Despite the fact that “How Stories Came to Earth”, Coyote Steals Fire”, and “Master Cat: Puss in Boots” all show examples of anthropomorphism and have the tricksters defeat a higher power, in “How Stories Came to Earth” and “Coyote Steals Fire” the trickster helps society in some way, while the trickster in “Master Cat: Puss in Boots” only helps his own

Within the underground gambling rings, Mr. Ketchum, the defendant, is notorious for “companionship” with Pikachu, a rare breed of electric mice. However, his relationship with his mouse, Pikachu, should not be interpreted as innocent friendship nor admirable bond between a pet and its owner. Under Mr. Ketchum’s ownership, Pikachu became a victim of severe animal cruelty, causing him to be constantly bloodied, traumatized, and on the verge of death. The public is blinded by Mr. Ketchum’s false image as an ideal animal trainer, and disgustingly, his abusive relationship with Pikachu is glorified in media.

As Sam opened his eyes, he was taken aback. Cobwebs draped down from the ceiling to the ground. There was no lighting; the only trace of light was from the dusty window. The smell was what really surprised him. It smelled so good in here! He expected a place like this to be smelly, but instead it smelled like lavender and honey. He spied a plate that had some rice and vegetables, and a small bowl of curry. A cup of tea finished of the dazzling array of food. “Finally you’ve woken up,” a chiming voice startled Sam’s inspection. To his surprise, he saw a monkey. He was carrying a banana leaf with a container of something green. “You sure where lucky. Surviving a moose in rage is quite uncommon. You’re pretty uncommon yourself, with a birthmark on your forehead shaped like a star and a really quick reviving body. My name’s Looloo, and I’m the one who carried you home. You

When Ruby passed by the two infected, they had caught Chuckles attention and he began to bark and growl frantically at them. “Shut up… Shut up, Chuckles, Jeez!” Lovienthal cried out to his dog in a low demanding voice, full-well knowing his efforts would be unsuccessful. He knew that once Chuckles had his mind-set on something, there was only one thing that could take his attention away from it—Food. “Quick, find something for him to eat!” Lovienthal exclaimed. “What?” Mary asked, shrugging her shoulders, hands held out and supinated. “I don’t know…,” said Lovienthal, “anything that will shut him up, Jeez, C’mon. He’s a dog. He’ll eat anything. He eats his own turds for Christ sake.”

"Hey look at the little sissy! Does the baby want his bottle!" One of the children taunted. "L-leave me a-alone." The little wolf tried to fight back the tears, but his fear was not that easily masked. "Aww, Fluff butt is going to cry!" Another teased. "Please...s-stop." The pup tears began to run down his face, whimpering as he kneeled to the ground. "Hey! Leave him alone!" A voice shouted out from the distance with a distinct accent. The wolf angled his ear to the voice's direction and heard footsteps coming closer. "Shoot. Scatter!" The leader of the bullies commanded. Meanwhile the pup was still on the ground covering his eyes. "...Are you okay?" A kind voice pierced through his withdrawn shell and looked up at the mountain gorilla child

In Africa a long, long time ago, there was a animal kingdom ruled by the strong and powerful Malcolm the lion. At his side was his wife Kira. Kira's job was to watch over the children that live within the kingdom and make sure they don’t cause trouble. Everyday Kira watched the same group of children. They were terrible trouble makers and couldn’t be trusted. Kira was so fed up with them that she decided not to go anymore. That was the worst mistake ever...

PineKit woke back in the nursery startled, dawn light filtering through the bramble roof. She let out a quiet sigh and silently, as to not wake her mother and littermates, padded out of the den. PineKit sat just outside the nursery, letting the morning rays soak into her pelt. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the familiar pelt of LionWhisker trotting up to

As I approached it, a familiar smell of her droppings greeted me. Timidly, I opened the cage door and peeked inside. I groaned. Hundreds of black and brown oval- shaped poops were lying around everywhere.The white bath powder was spread all over the place that made it look like it had snowed last night My hamster came out of her little shelter and stared innocently at me. “Bad girl!” I whisper- shouted at her though I knew it was pointless, “I thought you were just a cute, little hamster. After that, I just sat there for a few minutes with a silly expression on my face, trying to figure out what to do. Then, I got up and went into the kitchen to get a garbage bag, some Kleenex tissues, and a plastic glove. I slid my shaking hand into the glove and grabbed a handful of droppings from the top floor. The old ones made a crunching sound and came off easily which kind of surprised me. I could bear that.

Amidst the scarcity of life, caring for animals is not only encouraged but those who do not are vilified. In turn, many people, such as Rick, financially ruin themselves in pursuit of the social elitism that comes with animal ownership. Ashamed of his lack of ownership, Rick cares for an electric sheep and describes the experience as “[…] demoralizing. And yet from a social standpoint it had to be done, given the absence of the real article.” (48) Although the intention of animal ownership was to preserve life and atone for their lack of empathy during World War Terminus, ironically, it instead creates a hostile barrier between people leaving them less caring to each other. Rather than for the altruistic intentions that they claim to have, these people relentlessly pursue animal ownership in an arms race with each other. Symbolically, Kipple, metaphysical junk matter that multiples, is humanity’s excessive materialism destroying the planet and ourselves with it. As Isidore describes, “Kipple is useless objects, like junk mail or match folders after you use the last match or gum wrappers or yesterday’s homeopape. When nobody’s around, kipple reproduces

"Helga, Rhonda. My, My, what a pleasant suprise!" Ms. Heyerdahl answered the door, her accent thick. "Phoebe, didn't mention you gals was coming today."

Again, the dark laughter echoed in her head. Shit, shit, shit. She was so damn stupid, so bloody arrogant. In spite of the sunglasses she wore to lessen the risk of overstimulation to her senses, the lenses were no safeguards against the weighted stares of the people on the bus, and Tung wasn’t here acting as a buffer.