Miss Taylor's Home-Personal Narrative

I’m sitting in my fold up chair read’n the newspaper when I check the time. “SHOOT!” I yell. I’m going to be late for my new job. Work’in for miss Taylor, it ain’t easy. I have to drive all the way out to vicksburg. But the pay was way too good to pass up. Once I pull up to miss Taylor's house, I remind myself , “You is Mary Jenkins, not Abilene.” I step out a my car and walk in through the back. Once I get situated, I head up the creaking stairs. This house is so old, it can clasp at any second. I get to the end of the hallway and I push open a huge, uneven door and I head up another flight of stairs. Once I reach the top, I walk into a huge master bedroom. It is pitch black in there with the curtains drawn tight. I light a candle and head

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