Readers Digest

Only three hours earlier, I had taken a five-mile run. I had recently turned 60, and as I ran, I thought... other than a few aches from more than 450 parachute jumps, I felt as healthy as I did as 40...
Then I looked out he window at the 100-year-old oak tree I had trimmed the prior weekend and took pride in how much better it looked. Getting out there to finish a couple smaller trees would be a great start to my weekend.
I grabbed my chain saw and ran the extension cord from the back of my house, then propped my ladder against the tree and climbed up. The saw sliced through the three-inch limb like a warm knife through butter, but instead of falling to the side, the dead branch dropped down onto the ladder, which twisted away from the tree and left me on a collision course toward the four-foot chain-link fence. I tossed the saw out of harm's way and snapped my ankles together to avoid being impaled between the legs by the fence. It would have been a decent plan had my toes not caught the top of the fence, causing me to jackknife upside down and slam headfirst into the ground.
As I fought for air I thought, What a way to go. (This passage was taken from the 2010 November issue of Readers Digest, page 156)

I picked up my M16 and followed my troop through the small camp, and into the meeting house where we sat down on the dirt floor and listened. The captain explained that the guerrilla forces in the area were combining forces, and instead of fleeing for their lives, the experienced terrorists were turning back to do battle, which put the men on the front lines in more danger of a shortened life by a cruel death. He directed us to back up and ready our weapons and vehicles so that we were ready to combat against the moral-less bush-fighters. These orders would have protected us better if they had come sooner, since we were ambushed two hours later and most of our battalion shot to death where they stood. (I was supposed to imitate the style.)

Narrative

I suppose you may like to know what kind of a man my father was. He had an excellent constitution, was of middle stature, but well set and very strong. He was ingenious, could draw prettily, was skilled a little in music; his voice was sonorous and agreeable, so that when he played Psalm tunes on his violin and sung withal as he sometimes did in an evening after the business of the day was over, it was extremely agreeable to hear. He had some knowledge of mechanics, too, and on occasion was very handy with other tradesman's tools. But his great excellence was a sound understanding and solid judgment in prudential matters, both in private and public affairs. (This passage was taken from Benjamin Franklin Autobiography, page24.)

A narrative imitation of the style:
My mom asked me about the type of girl whom I had picked out. She had a beautiful body, slightly taller than myself, yet was rather athletic and well balanced. She was very intelligent, had many skills, and could play music like an angel; her voice was so captivating and powerful, that if anyone heard her make music as she did whenever she was turned on and healthy, happy, and heartening, it was extremely exhilarating and encouraging. She could run faster than an eagle could fly, and was also often making me feel like a million dollars. But the best part about her was her incredible loyalty, faithfulness, and understanding, which was much more than can usually be expected from any other car.
Note: This passage is describing a car and not an actual girl.

The Scarlet Letter

...while the minister stood with a flush of triumph in his face, as one who, in the crisis of acutest pain, had won a victory. Then, down he sank upon the scaffold!... Old Roger Chillingworth knelt down beside him, with a blank, dull, countenance, out of which the life seemed to have departed.
"Thou hast escaped me!" he repeated more than once...
"My God forgive thee!" said the minister. "Thou, too, hast deeply sinned!"
He withdrew his dying eyes from the old man, and fixed them on the woman and the child.
"My little Pearl," said he feebly... "dear little Pearl, wilt thou kiss me now?..."
Pearl kissed his lips. A spell was broken.
(This passage was taken from the 23 chapter of Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter.)


Chillingworth admits that Dimmesdale has escaped him, but how did he do that? He wanted to inflict pain upon Dimmesdale and much pain he had, before he died. But the one thing Chillingworth did not want Dimmesdale to do, he did. He sought the truth, announced to the world that he had sinned, exposed himself, and asked for forgiveness. Chillingworth wanted him to die trying to hold the secret sin inside. He was defeated by the truth. Truth and forgiveness brought freedom and so, Dimmesdale was able to Rest In Peace, and freedom.