by Andrea Curtis

Today I feel only dread. I’m sweating again—my cheeks are flushed. I thought I would feel relieved to be back in civilization, to be rescued from certain death, but instead, seeing the town and the men rushing about on the dock, the boats and sails and horse-drawn wagons, I’m struck again by what we have just endured. I want to find Daniel, see his face, know that he remembers too, but he’s tunneled down beneath the blankets like a mole.

“Parry Sound,” Henry calls out, and I see the blankets covering Daniel begin to stir.

Along the shore, lumber is stacked in piles as high as a schooner. It looks like a pencil drawing done with a ruler—perfect, straight lines. Boats, most of them small, meant for fishing, dot the bay here and there. Some are tied up at dock; others are anchored in the water just past the river. The chimney stacks of houses and large wood-frame buildings whisper smoky murmurs into the sky.

I hear the hwah of a seagull and look up, hoping absurdly to see the bird from the other day. But there are many seagulls, all of them flying around like tugboats escorting a ship into harbor.

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Question
Use the story to answer the question.

Based on this excerpt from the end of a story, what genre does the author use to tell the story?

(1 point)
Responses

fantasy
fantasy

mystery
mystery

adventure
adventure

science fiction
science fiction
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