Narrative Passage

Categories: Narrative Writing

Daisy Buchanan was mad. It was 18. 30, and the celebration Daisy and her other half Tom were invited to had actually already started. Daisy had actually been waiting on Tom for an hour and a half already, sitting all dressed, with her perfect cosmetics on the couch in the living-room, and staring on the big clock above the fireplace. Minutes lapsed into hours, and with each move of the arrow-shaped pointer Daisy’s mood became lower. “Damn, he assured to show up at seventeen o’clock”– she believed.

“I just dislike those horse races. He forgets whatever, when seeing those substantial beasts.

What’s everything about those horses? Just huge, scary animals that run the racetrack round after round.”– For once again Daisy felt that her husband had some fascinating life, the life she wasn’t allowed to get in. The doors to his personal heaven were safeguarded by Tom’s and his buddies’ assurances that “It’s nothing intriguing” and “You’ll be tired to tears, darling.

” Unexpectedly Daisy felt tears coming her eyes, however at this very moment the door squeaked, and the woman saw Tom, her partner, getting in the space. His eyes flashed, he was smiling.

“What’s up, honey?”– he asked looking shocked. “Why are you sitting here, all dressed up? “. Daisy simply looked at him, without stating anything. “Oh, have I forgotten something?”– Tom asked. “Is it about that celebration at Margaret’s?”– Daisy simply nodded. “Okay, lets go, darling. We’ll be simply a bit late, it’s nothing severe.

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” Tom and Daisy went out to the backyard, and went to the automobile. Daisy felt another spasm of anger, when she saw his vehicle for once more. Another costly accessory, a glossy iron monster Tom loves more than her.

Daisy comprehended all of the ridiculousness of this anger and jealousy, but simply couldn’t assist them, remembering all the long hours Tom spent near his cars and truck, and inside it, all of the mornings, when it took Daisy’s husband from her into the male’s world, a reality were money, horses and whisky had their own sacral meaning, and where no females were enabled. The cars and truck was standing there, substantial, and effective, and intense in the fading rays of the evening sun. Brilliant red in the daylight, it now appeared to have a deeper, more harmful bloody shade. Daisy didn’t like this color, as it seemed to her there were stains of blood on the car’s shiny sides.

The young woman shook her head, got into the car, and Tom threw out the clutch. The car moved through the interlacement of the West Egg streets. Daisy kept silence, hoping that Tom would feel, how angry and hurt she is. But the man seemed not to care, whistling some silly tune, looking confident, and satisfy. Suddenly Daisy heard the screech of the brake, and Tom’s irritated shout “Damn niggers! Don’t you have eyes for to see the car, you, little goose” – a teenage black girl, sitting right in front of the car, had tears on her cheeks, Daisy noted automatically. “Just get out of my way! ” – Tom continued. “But Tom, you hit her!

” – Daisy exclaimed. “Shut up” – ordered her husband, not even paying a look to her . Daisy wanted to cry, to shout at him, to say he had no right to treat her like that, but the insuperable wave of fragility covered her, and she kept silent for the time need to get to Margaret’s house. It was all as usual at Margaret’s – lot’s of people, man dressed in expensive suits, with women in their boutique dresses. The jewelry with the stones too huge to look natural, cocktails, the smell of perfumes, and smiles, smiles, smiles. Tom and Daisy felt comfortable in that setting, they knew most of the attendants, and most of the guests knew them.

The party was still at the beginning, thus there was still lots of drinks for to choose. “Well, I’ve earned a right to relax a little” – thought Daisy. Her body and mind longed for alcohol, for just a little bit of it that would allow muscles to get rid of all of that strain, and mind to clear from all thoughts. An hour went by, taliking, drinking, and smiling, smiling all the time. Daisy almost never got tired of the dialogues about the new fashion trends, fashionable books and plays, an, of course, gossips about friends and acquaintances.

Information was one of her favorite substances; it made her feel powerful, and meaningful. She discussed Lily Carpenter’s new hat, and agreed it was flashy, asked how college was going for Mrs. Ratman’s son Tony, and noted she had known this boy will succeed, and heard about Emily Griff’s new lover. Almost lost in the swirl of emotion, in the flood of information, Daisy suddenly felt she would die, if she didn’t have just few gulps of fresh evening air. She excused herself, and made her way through the half-drunk mass of guests to the terrace. It was quiet there, so quiet that Daisy could hear her own heart beating.

After few moments of silence she began to distinguish some other sounds, except for her heartbeat. It was giggling, whisper, and the sound of kisses. Guided by some naughty curiosity Daisy walked few steps for to see the people in the far corner of the terrace. Tom, her husband stand there, embracing a tender woman in black. Daisy didn’t try to distinguish her face. She just went back to the house, to smiling and chatting. “Darling, are you ok? ” – She heard a voice from behind. Her boy instinctively pulled as Tom’s arm touched her naked shoulder. “Just bring me one more drink please. ”

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Narrative Passage. (2016, Aug 24). Retrieved from

Narrative Passage
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