OCU addm writing samples.docx

OCU addm writing samples.docx
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    How it all started. Well ‘ it ’  never was meant to be an ‘ it ’  at all. As mankind became, the unity that had existed but not recognized as such, it disappeared. Man looked too hard at the water, narrowly escaped death by miraculous means, began to recognize stars as friend and laughter medicinal. These are great things one may say. Perhaps, but only at the cost of something essential. Lethargy stole over them when someone would not move anymore and they recognized the difference in the way each one stood, deferential or insistent. Why, they knew not. The feeling was a weed, a fungus, a virus but they did not know what we know now and there is no going back to being animals. Until now.     ch On a warm September night, unseasonably warm, the wealthy young soldier on furlough came home to a quite distressing affair. A rabid dog, or a dog at least, had attacked his wife and she was quite dead. These things happen, seemed to the sentiment among his neighbors and the case was quickly dismissed by the authorities. The dog was never found, determination of ownership uncertain. The matter may have been put to rest if the husband had not made the incident the focus of his existence. Having been the first to see the ravaged remains, the Corpsman did what most grieving husbands do…he had bloody disjointed sex with the deceased. The act was quick and terrible, both gleaming with   bodily fluids and serenaded by its own one-piece noise machine; all the while being objectified by the neighborhood dog walker…little Graham Fallin. The tears in his eyes were little diamonds of joy, his face flushed with amorous longing. With the resolve and patience of a good southern soldier Francis waited until his better half was buried to start his obsessive revenge. Within a week he had murdered every dog in the community and put Graham out of business. In the wake of this development, the young entrepreneur decided on a duel course of action. First, to catch the man who took his job, then to teach everyone he knew about the glorious art of love. So Graham went work. To determine the killer, the young sleuth snuck out night after night dressed in his mother’s fur, kneepads and socks taped to his head. Striking out in his  pursuits and stirring up the neighborhood rumor mill with  stories of a bear, Graham finally asked his mother. Mrs. Fallin-McDrumph told him that more than likely it was their neighbor, the soldier that had lost his wife in the “accident.” To Graham, who knew better than his mother the love that this man had…real love, the connecting kind, this sounded like utter nonsense. “Mom, its not him, I knew him much better than you.”  The hand, that had before been deftly placing wildflowers in an arrangement, stopped. Her face concerned, “How is it that you know this man so well? Has he done something to you.”  Seeing the conversation was heading in an unexpected direction, he decided to leave quickly, under his breath claiming  that the man had taught him about true love. The next part of his plan was better thought out. Being out of a  job had put a damper on his eight-year-old extravagant cost of living and he determined to rectify this through teaching…teaching love. The very next day he went to work again, bringing his compatriots together behind the Carlson’s guesthouse. Graham was intensively strategic about this, determining that he must offer this service to those that needed and deserved it. Little Graham Fallin became the necro-guru and the world didn’t bat an eye.  
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