She came to get me from the trailer so I could help her. When we arrived in the woods, I looked down the hill and saw the head flopping. His neck was stretching up, but he couldn’t get up. His body was paralyzed. “Oh, my God,” I thought to myself, “he’s not dead.” The poor thing was shot in the shoulder. One bullet wouldn’t do it for this one. I waited on the hilltop for her to finish him off. A cool wind blew dead leaves across the ground between the trees. I stopped my tear

I waited patiently as the professor went around the table telling each student what he thought of their short story. He was kind to all of them. Then he got to me. “This, class,” he said with a touch of anger, “is the perfect example of a writer misleading the reader into believing something that is not true. It isn’t until a page later that she reveals the 'he' is actually an 'it'.” Looking back I wish I would have said, “I am the writer here. It’s my character’s perspecti