Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The End
This will be my last post for the whole year. Sadly there is going to be more than just that one thing ending. The kick off for the ending of grade school started yesterday when we went to Six Flags and it finally hit me. We are going to be highschoolers in less than 24 hours. The ceramony or as we call it, 8th Grade Promotion is tonight and I'm sure to start crying. But when I look at it in a whole different way, I see that this isn't the end of something amazing, its the start of something new and the beginning of independence and freedom that we have to experience in the four short high school year's ahead.
Bedroom Door
Being a bedroom door is tough. Especially if the room belongs to a moody teenage girl. You wouldn’t think so but they take all their anger out on me! I mean if their mom yells at them, they slam the door. If their boyfriend breaks up with them, they slam the door. And if they get a bad grade on their social studies test, what do you think they’re going to do? Slam the door which I would like tell you is in fact me! I mean I take good care of myself. I make sure my hinges are clean so they don’t squeak, I keep my door knob shiny and this is how she repays me? How selfish! I give her privacy from her annoying little brother and even though the dog scratches me I stand my ground and protect her. So next time when you’re about to slam the door because your parents grounded you, think about how I feel!
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Giver Play
Surprisingly with the play being as minimal as possible, I believe that even though it had this downfall, I thought they pulled it off. There were some things though that made me a little confused and frustrated. When reading the book, you can imagine what is going on and figure out and sort of “see” how the apple is changing in the air. When you do this on stage in a production, it is overwhelmingly harder to show. With just using the sounds, it was very confusing to interpret the “changing” of the apple. Maybe if they had a light in a clear apple shape and pressed the light on at some point making the apple glow, it might have been way more interesting.
With only 7 people playing the parts of the production, The Giver, I was sort of bothered by the idea that the same girl was two people. They didn’t even have a costume change so it would be easier to tell the difference between the two characters. Also, I noticed that many of the characters were narrating the play too, which at first was very confusing and bothersome but I noticed that it helped a lot during the play to have those characters narrate what was going on because sometimes it was VERY confusing. When I read some of the book, I noticed that you need a lot of people to pull off this production and surprisingly I believe the people we saw, barely did for there was a lot of things that were hard to show without imagination.
With only 7 people playing the parts of the production, The Giver, I was sort of bothered by the idea that the same girl was two people. They didn’t even have a costume change so it would be easier to tell the difference between the two characters. Also, I noticed that many of the characters were narrating the play too, which at first was very confusing and bothersome but I noticed that it helped a lot during the play to have those characters narrate what was going on because sometimes it was VERY confusing. When I read some of the book, I noticed that you need a lot of people to pull off this production and surprisingly I believe the people we saw, barely did for there was a lot of things that were hard to show without imagination.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Friendship
There has to be some way to describe the feeling of friendship,
The laughs and the cries of pure joy
The feeling of relief when they get the way you feel
The feeling of acceptance when they let you in on their own life
The smiles of happiness that leak through even when your suppose to be mad at them
Or the small jokes that only we share
The relief in your heart when you see them after a long time
The way you can tell them everything without even blinking an eye
The pure trust that you can believe in them
Or the frightfulness of if they might mess up because you care so deeply
There has to be some way to describe the feeling of friendship
Though what words could describe anything as powerful as that.
The laughs and the cries of pure joy
The feeling of relief when they get the way you feel
The feeling of acceptance when they let you in on their own life
The smiles of happiness that leak through even when your suppose to be mad at them
Or the small jokes that only we share
The relief in your heart when you see them after a long time
The way you can tell them everything without even blinking an eye
The pure trust that you can believe in them
Or the frightfulness of if they might mess up because you care so deeply
There has to be some way to describe the feeling of friendship
Though what words could describe anything as powerful as that.
That ONE Feeling
I scan the field with pure adrenalin and rush to get open for a pass. The soft grass lays the ball right in front of me and I snap my hip to make a sharp cut around a defender. Touching the ball with the laces of my shoe, I jog slowly and dribble to open space. I’m only at midfield and I look to the right of me and see a red jersey open. With a sharp swing of my leg, the ball glides off of my foot and slowly makes its way to my teammate. I plant my foot and accelerate to open space for a “Give and Go” and the ball returns to my white cleat. Approaching a defender, I can see beyond them that there is clear field after this opponent. I can feel the points of the bottom of my cleats as I lay them on top of the ball and drag my foot so the ball comes with me when I do my favorite turn. Staring back at me is the wet grass is the strong force of the wind, the small goal, and the determined eyes of the keepers. I take a short touch with the ball with the outside of my foot and arch my hip backwards to come up with enough power for my shot. I push threw and watch the spiraling ball, spin out of the goalies reach and into the far right corner of the net. My mind stops and a rush of pure happiness and satisfaction is what fills it.
How We've Changed
I've always thought it would be so cool to keep all of the things that I have written or drawn with me so that one day I could look back at all the things I have done and some funny things I might have written. Feeling bored, I decided to go through all of my stuff and not to my surprise, discovered I wrote some very funny things when I was younger in my little “Journal.” I noticed I was very into cats like some of the things I wrote were just snippets of little things about my own cat or just one random one.
October 2nd 2001
I like’t to Pat the cat. Because thea are cute. But he wse sleping but we cod stil hold tem.
October 7th 2002
The cat was laying in my back yard. I said come her kidy kidy I said. When I got the cat settled with a picnic blanket and a pillow to go with. I got a bowl of water and some treats. There was a bee chasing me when I set down the treats. When I was running the cat fowld me. I like you. I went to name you Elliott. He started to hiss. What Elliott. No wonder a bird was on top of a tree. Down I said. Suddenly I heard click click, whet is that noise I said. Click click. There it is again. I look around the tree. I saw a squirrel jumping and climbing up the tree. MOM! I said. What my mom said. Can we keep him. What? The little cat peeked his head out Oh the cat. Can we Ok! My Mom said.
The End
After reading a few more of some passages that I wrote, I noticed that I used to mention a cat at least twice during the each story I wrote. I found another story that made me laugh which is called “Boys and Girls.” I wrote this “poem” in 2nd grade.
March 4th 2004
Girls are sweet, nice and neat,
Boys are loud, noisy and gross,
Girls write in their diary,
Boys play basketball or football,
Girls wear dresses,
Boys wear ripped up Jeans.
Girls rule and there really cool,
Boys drool and break windows with baseballs
Girls are thinkers, Boys are not!
Girls don’t bug anyone
Boys bug EVERYBODY!
What really made me laugh was the ending of this poem because my second grade teacher wrote, “Someday you’re going to like boys. Can you believe it?” The point of these stories is to show how much I’ve changed. How much I’ve grown since I was little. I’ve had experiences and memories that I would like to write about instead of cats and how my interests have changed in many ways. I love looking back at all the things I’ve written, not just because of the silly writing errors or the lack of development that I had in writing but in everyday life, I have become a very different person.
October 2nd 2001
I like’t to Pat the cat. Because thea are cute. But he wse sleping but we cod stil hold tem.
October 7th 2002
The cat was laying in my back yard. I said come her kidy kidy I said. When I got the cat settled with a picnic blanket and a pillow to go with. I got a bowl of water and some treats. There was a bee chasing me when I set down the treats. When I was running the cat fowld me. I like you. I went to name you Elliott. He started to hiss. What Elliott. No wonder a bird was on top of a tree. Down I said. Suddenly I heard click click, whet is that noise I said. Click click. There it is again. I look around the tree. I saw a squirrel jumping and climbing up the tree. MOM! I said. What my mom said. Can we keep him. What? The little cat peeked his head out Oh the cat. Can we Ok! My Mom said.
The End
After reading a few more of some passages that I wrote, I noticed that I used to mention a cat at least twice during the each story I wrote. I found another story that made me laugh which is called “Boys and Girls.” I wrote this “poem” in 2nd grade.
March 4th 2004
Girls are sweet, nice and neat,
Boys are loud, noisy and gross,
Girls write in their diary,
Boys play basketball or football,
Girls wear dresses,
Boys wear ripped up Jeans.
Girls rule and there really cool,
Boys drool and break windows with baseballs
Girls are thinkers, Boys are not!
Girls don’t bug anyone
Boys bug EVERYBODY!
What really made me laugh was the ending of this poem because my second grade teacher wrote, “Someday you’re going to like boys. Can you believe it?” The point of these stories is to show how much I’ve changed. How much I’ve grown since I was little. I’ve had experiences and memories that I would like to write about instead of cats and how my interests have changed in many ways. I love looking back at all the things I’ve written, not just because of the silly writing errors or the lack of development that I had in writing but in everyday life, I have become a very different person.
Friday, May 7, 2010
SUMMER!
How I can’t wait to feel the warmth on my face
Feel the green, smooth grass on my feet with every pace
Having the sun shine on my rosy cheeks
When I start to count down the weeks.
Yes, the time is almost here
To realize that it’s almost the end of the school year
With the birds chirping and the roses bloom
I’m excited to enjoy the summer instead of learn in a small room.
18, 17, 16 more days,
The nonstop feeling of summer expressed in so many ways,
The feeling of waking up and staying up, way too late,
Is going to feel awesome compared to what our parents usually state.
The smooth air rushes around you as your about to take a dive into the pool,
The water sinks around you and it feels, oh so cool.
You get out of the pool and realize there is nothing left to accomplish,
But to sit around and realize you don’t even need one wish
Because summer is here, only a few days away
And you feel the rays of the sun as you soak it all up as you lay,
You talk with your friends about the next thing you want to do,
Either go on a bike ride or share a ice cream for two.
I know I’m not the only one who can’t wait,
To hang out and play all day and stay up way to late,
Without even caring or thinking about what needs to be,
We can keep enjoying the summer, just you and me!
The stress, the work will almost be done with
And the feeling of pressure to get stuff done will be a myth
The only thing to worry about is the lack of sunscreen
And if you should order the strawberry smoothie or the vanilla bean.
No one can wait for this coming summer
To laugh with friends and one another.
Surrounded by the pools and the green grass
Everyone will want this summer to last and last…
Feel the green, smooth grass on my feet with every pace
Having the sun shine on my rosy cheeks
When I start to count down the weeks.
Yes, the time is almost here
To realize that it’s almost the end of the school year
With the birds chirping and the roses bloom
I’m excited to enjoy the summer instead of learn in a small room.
18, 17, 16 more days,
The nonstop feeling of summer expressed in so many ways,
The feeling of waking up and staying up, way too late,
Is going to feel awesome compared to what our parents usually state.
The smooth air rushes around you as your about to take a dive into the pool,
The water sinks around you and it feels, oh so cool.
You get out of the pool and realize there is nothing left to accomplish,
But to sit around and realize you don’t even need one wish
Because summer is here, only a few days away
And you feel the rays of the sun as you soak it all up as you lay,
You talk with your friends about the next thing you want to do,
Either go on a bike ride or share a ice cream for two.
I know I’m not the only one who can’t wait,
To hang out and play all day and stay up way to late,
Without even caring or thinking about what needs to be,
We can keep enjoying the summer, just you and me!
The stress, the work will almost be done with
And the feeling of pressure to get stuff done will be a myth
The only thing to worry about is the lack of sunscreen
And if you should order the strawberry smoothie or the vanilla bean.
No one can wait for this coming summer
To laugh with friends and one another.
Surrounded by the pools and the green grass
Everyone will want this summer to last and last…
Friday, April 16, 2010
Is it too early?
Is it too early to go to high school?
Is it too early to start worrying about classes?
Is it too early to be trying out for the Poms team?
Is it too early to start wondering what "clique" your going to be in?
Is it too early to be worried about juggling sports and school?
Is it too early to be nervous for something that hasn't happened yet?
Is it too early...
To grow up?
Is it too early to start worrying about classes?
Is it too early to be trying out for the Poms team?
Is it too early to start wondering what "clique" your going to be in?
Is it too early to be worried about juggling sports and school?
Is it too early to be nervous for something that hasn't happened yet?
Is it too early...
To grow up?
Thursday, March 25, 2010
What if...?
A crash, like that of a window breaking, woke me with a start. I roll over in my bed and looked up at the dark ceiling above me. I stare and stare like it’s the most amazing thing in the world. Truthfully, I just don’t want to get up. I turn slowly and put my feet in my favorite slippers. I drape my comforter over my head and walk down the stairs. This is not something I would like to be doing at 2:46 in the morning but I keep stumbling down each step, strangling the railing for support so I don’t fall. I have to wake up in the morning for my class and if I don’t get at least 8 hours of sleep, I will fail out of college.
I round the bend of the hallway and peer into my kitchen. I’m not one of those girls who is scared or frightened about everything, so seeing a big gash in my window above the sink makes me upset but not even close to scared or frightened…just maybe annoyed. My window is right next to my door and since its early in the morning and I haven’t even gotten my full eyesight focused, I don’t notice that the lock on the door is not latched anymore. I move over by the side of the cupboards, careful not to step on any broken glass. A large rock is laying in the midst of the sharp glass blades of the window. Wondering what or who did this, I start to move toward the long cupboard where I put my broom. Still half tired, I reach for the knob and rest my petite hand on it. With a swift turn of my wrist and the wind of the door as I open it, I am faced with two large eyes staring back at me. I don’t scream, I just stare. Why? Because instead of screaming, my eyes start to water.
My life is flashed before my eyes because I look down and see a gun resting in his hands. Why me? What did I do to him? I did nothing that’s what. I did nothing to hurt him. I was just caught at the wrong time, at the wrong place, in the wrong room. Yes, if I didn’t wake up and check what the noise was, he would have just robbed my house. That would be bad but nothing close to what is about to happen. I didn’t get to have a husband. I didn’t get to have children. I would never be married or have a tiny, little face look up at me and call me his mother. I would never get to say goodbye to my friends. I would never get to finish college and get my dream job. I would never see my family again… including my dear parents. What would they do when they saw what had happened to me? What could have happened in the future if I was offered a second chance? My thoughts were interrupted by a sound that no one would ever like to hear.
Screaming, I wake up because only realizing it was a dream did not shake the nauseating feeling of the nightmare.
I round the bend of the hallway and peer into my kitchen. I’m not one of those girls who is scared or frightened about everything, so seeing a big gash in my window above the sink makes me upset but not even close to scared or frightened…just maybe annoyed. My window is right next to my door and since its early in the morning and I haven’t even gotten my full eyesight focused, I don’t notice that the lock on the door is not latched anymore. I move over by the side of the cupboards, careful not to step on any broken glass. A large rock is laying in the midst of the sharp glass blades of the window. Wondering what or who did this, I start to move toward the long cupboard where I put my broom. Still half tired, I reach for the knob and rest my petite hand on it. With a swift turn of my wrist and the wind of the door as I open it, I am faced with two large eyes staring back at me. I don’t scream, I just stare. Why? Because instead of screaming, my eyes start to water.
My life is flashed before my eyes because I look down and see a gun resting in his hands. Why me? What did I do to him? I did nothing that’s what. I did nothing to hurt him. I was just caught at the wrong time, at the wrong place, in the wrong room. Yes, if I didn’t wake up and check what the noise was, he would have just robbed my house. That would be bad but nothing close to what is about to happen. I didn’t get to have a husband. I didn’t get to have children. I would never be married or have a tiny, little face look up at me and call me his mother. I would never get to say goodbye to my friends. I would never get to finish college and get my dream job. I would never see my family again… including my dear parents. What would they do when they saw what had happened to me? What could have happened in the future if I was offered a second chance? My thoughts were interrupted by a sound that no one would ever like to hear.
Screaming, I wake up because only realizing it was a dream did not shake the nauseating feeling of the nightmare.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
We all want to believe in Something...
Magic is something EVERYONE wants to believe in but they know that it’s certainly untrue. The thought of having something happen to you that resembles the superstitious questioning of a bizarre curse makes many readers uncomfortably adjust in their chair. Would you, if you could, bring back someone who is dead with this one wish that could be granted? “The Monkey’s Paw”, a short story by W.W. Jacobs, contains a man who stops this wish to come true for his own son, why you may ask? The way the author makes the readers ask these intriguing questions is just another way to set up the possibilities of new symbols. Traveling off the page, the questions give you hints with every symbol imaginable to try to give you the aspect that love and family are the closest thing to magic.
The soft paw looks dead and hoveringly lifeless in Morris’s hard hand as he gives it to the old man. Thinking of the curse that is embedded in this small hand of the monkey is unrealistic and hard to believe. Warnings are repeated hysterically not to use the paw itself for the symbol of it was about to unravel.
“If you don’t want it Morris,” said the old man, “give it to me.”
“I won’t,” said his friend doggedly. “I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don’t blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire again, like a sensible man.”
The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely. “How do you do it?” he inquired.
“Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud,” said the sergeant major, “but I warn you of the consequences.” Because of this small conversation, the symbols of the words and actions of each person represent fright and hesitation from the paw. Shaking his head, the old man inquires that he doesn’t care about what might happen for he thinks it is all fake. The small words of, “Don’t blame me for what happens” also gives a new look on what might lead to the future of this old man’s son Herbert because of the tiny symbols that W.W. has laid out cautiously throughout the story of this tale.
You can learn a lot about a person just by what he or she is wearing. A light blue sundress shines the words HAPPY and FREEDOM. A dark black pair of baggy pants embedded with shiny jewels formed in the shape of skulls tells the viewer TOUGH or SCARY. When seeing a man in this book “well dressed (with) a silk hat of glossy newness” automatically the symbols fly out to greet you with the words BUISNESS and IMPORTANT. Jacobs describes this person as anxious because of his pacing back and forth before the house of Herbert’s parents that afternoon he was at work. Finally with the horrible, devastating news that the man eventually gives, the wish of Herbert’s came true… but with a deadly cost. Noticing, just by what the man was wearing and how he was acting, Jacob’s gave an insight on what might be lurking around the corner that sends this short story into a untamable twist.
The stiff bolt represents safety. Safety from the outside world of danger. Safety from harassment that gives you privacy. Safety from having your son come back to life so your wife is happy? This is a different question filled with unexpected ways to absorb and understand why someone would go against having someone come back alive. The bolt for the lock on the door not only represents safety, but somewhat shows that maybe you’re a coward. The old man in this story has some type of regret about taking the monkey’s paw from his friend. He has some type of regret that maybe if he didn’t have let his son make that wish, he would still be alive. Knowing this guilt that this man has, adds effect on which shows that the fright of taking another chance to wish for him to come back. The lock on the door symbolizes fright which asks “Why would I want to wish for something again that once turned out horribly wrong?” Jacobs’ shows strong symbolism in this story and a weird, uncharismatic ending so readers can ask strong questions and figure out this story for themselves.
You can never replace the ones you love. You can never wish for something so amazing and endearing and have something that means so much to you, replace it . The hardship of what this old man is going through is hard to understand in this story, “The Monkey’s Paw”. Many believe that it was not only interesting, but a refreshing repetition to show that what you really wished for was love. The 200 pounds of cash would have never bought out his life. Jacobs shows why everyone wants to believe in love and family…. Because it is the closest thing we have to magic.
The soft paw looks dead and hoveringly lifeless in Morris’s hard hand as he gives it to the old man. Thinking of the curse that is embedded in this small hand of the monkey is unrealistic and hard to believe. Warnings are repeated hysterically not to use the paw itself for the symbol of it was about to unravel.
“If you don’t want it Morris,” said the old man, “give it to me.”
“I won’t,” said his friend doggedly. “I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don’t blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire again, like a sensible man.”
The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely. “How do you do it?” he inquired.
“Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud,” said the sergeant major, “but I warn you of the consequences.” Because of this small conversation, the symbols of the words and actions of each person represent fright and hesitation from the paw. Shaking his head, the old man inquires that he doesn’t care about what might happen for he thinks it is all fake. The small words of, “Don’t blame me for what happens” also gives a new look on what might lead to the future of this old man’s son Herbert because of the tiny symbols that W.W. has laid out cautiously throughout the story of this tale.
You can learn a lot about a person just by what he or she is wearing. A light blue sundress shines the words HAPPY and FREEDOM. A dark black pair of baggy pants embedded with shiny jewels formed in the shape of skulls tells the viewer TOUGH or SCARY. When seeing a man in this book “well dressed (with) a silk hat of glossy newness” automatically the symbols fly out to greet you with the words BUISNESS and IMPORTANT. Jacobs describes this person as anxious because of his pacing back and forth before the house of Herbert’s parents that afternoon he was at work. Finally with the horrible, devastating news that the man eventually gives, the wish of Herbert’s came true… but with a deadly cost. Noticing, just by what the man was wearing and how he was acting, Jacob’s gave an insight on what might be lurking around the corner that sends this short story into a untamable twist.
The stiff bolt represents safety. Safety from the outside world of danger. Safety from harassment that gives you privacy. Safety from having your son come back to life so your wife is happy? This is a different question filled with unexpected ways to absorb and understand why someone would go against having someone come back alive. The bolt for the lock on the door not only represents safety, but somewhat shows that maybe you’re a coward. The old man in this story has some type of regret about taking the monkey’s paw from his friend. He has some type of regret that maybe if he didn’t have let his son make that wish, he would still be alive. Knowing this guilt that this man has, adds effect on which shows that the fright of taking another chance to wish for him to come back. The lock on the door symbolizes fright which asks “Why would I want to wish for something again that once turned out horribly wrong?” Jacobs’ shows strong symbolism in this story and a weird, uncharismatic ending so readers can ask strong questions and figure out this story for themselves.
You can never replace the ones you love. You can never wish for something so amazing and endearing and have something that means so much to you, replace it . The hardship of what this old man is going through is hard to understand in this story, “The Monkey’s Paw”. Many believe that it was not only interesting, but a refreshing repetition to show that what you really wished for was love. The 200 pounds of cash would have never bought out his life. Jacobs shows why everyone wants to believe in love and family…. Because it is the closest thing we have to magic.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Happily Ever After?
I grabbed the rustic handle and felt the cold metal sting my hand as I turned it this way and that. I was so upset and confused as I recalled what had just happened. I was walking with a load of laundry when my own step mother pushed me into this bathroom and locked it. I pressed my ear to the thick wooden door and concentrated hard so I could hear the faint voices downstairs.
“Good morning ladies…” I could hear Grand Dukes voice over the tiny mice scurrying around my feet.
I looked down at Gus and told him to be quiet. The tiny mouse that looked up at me in an apologetic head nod was my best friend for I was just a small, unfortunate girl locked in this house as a slave for my step mother, Lady Tremaine and her evil daughters, Anastasia and Drizella.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Grand Duke continued in his low voice but Drizella interrupted.
“Why that is fine sir, and we think we know why you’re here… I lost a glass slipper the night of your annual ball, Prince Charming. Are you here to give it back to me?” Her voice was high and overwhelmingly flirtatious.
My mind clicked in a instant and everything made complete and total sense. The magical night that I played over and over in my head as I fed the chickens, washed the dishes and cleaned the cinder of the fireplace came back to me. The way he held the small of my back and his wispy hair fell over his green sparkly eyes made my heart pound as I felt all eyes on me. For it was me who lost that glass slipper that night and danced with the prince but was rudely interrupted my midnight curfew. I remember lifting my soft graceful dress when I descended the steps and had my Prince running after me. I remember apologizing to him for leaving so early and him saying that he was falling for me. My heart pounded and my eyes started to water and I lost my balance when one of my glass slippers slipped off of my slender foot. I didn’t have enough time to put it back on so I kept running now hearing Grand Duck and Prince Charming both yelling after me wanting me to come back. They must be here to find me! My heart lunged with joy in my chest but was taken aback by the words of my step mother.
“Yes! She has been looking everywhere for that!” Her piercing voice made my hear want to cry out. The rest of the puzzle clicked in to place. I wasn’t fooling anyone when I came home at the right time that night. They all knew I was at the ball dancing with my Prince and now they are trying to take my place.
“NO!” I cried and all the mice ran for the door certain that they can help.
“You were there that night?” Prince Charming asked with confusion. His voice was just liked I remembered it.
“Of course I was, dear! I danced with you, why don’t you remember?” Drizella said in her voice again.
“And that is why we’re here!” Grand Duke boomed. “I heard many say that they were that one girl who danced with this young boy and we know they were lying for the shoe did not fit.”
I rattled the door knob even more and my eyes were filled with tears. I could hear one of my step sisters walk across the room.
“ Okay sir. See if the slipper fits. It is mine so this shouldn’t be a problem.” Although she tried not to, Drizella’s voice was shaking in fright for she was scared the slipper wouldn’t fit. It was quiet for a while and then the silence was broken by Lady Tremaine.
“IT FITS!” She cried and my heart broke right then and there. The tears came streaming down my cheeks as I leaned against the door and slowly sank down the floor of the small bathroom.
“You’re the one!?” Prince Charming’s voice was excited but unsure.
“Well of course I am! How could you forget?” Drizella’s voice was full of pure victory.
“Well then it is settled! You shall get married on Sunday and you shall invite whoever.” Grand Duke said unsure also. Sunday? That was in two days! My sobs were so loud I was surprised they couldn’t hear them. I looked out the window two minutes later to see my Prince carrying my evil step sister in his strong muscular arms to the carriage awaiting outside our large home.
Five minutes later, the door of the bathroom that I had been locked in opened up so fast that my blond, dirty hair blew back. My step mother turned around without saying a word and started to walk down the hallway.
“I don’t see my laundry that I have been waiting for…” she said in her evil, tense tone.
“Why? Why would you do that to me?” the tears started to well up in my eyes.
“Because you are not that girl! You will never be! My daughters deserve way more than you should ever! Now stop this and go finish the dishes!” She shouted and the tears overflowed in my eyes. I ran past her and to my claustrophobic room. I shut the door after my mice followed in. I put my face in the pillow and cried as hard as I could to think my fairytale was in reach but will never come true.
“Isn’t this just perfect!?” The voice of Drizella came behind me. She was back. “I had to send my fiancé home so I could gather my things and of course that you.” Her sarcastic tone was hard to listen to. I turned my head to look at her. “I just love how you thought you got away with everything! I saw you dancing with that man and thought you were actually going to steal my dream guy… but of course, poor, ugly servants never get the happy ending.” I looked at myself in the rusty mirror that hung next to my small bed. Starring back was a delicate girl was long blond hair. Her eyes were red and puffy which made the blue in them disappear. Her cheeks were white but her nose was as red as ever from blowing her noise.
“Not only am I happy, but my Prince has a cousin that Anastasia is brilliantly in love with and guess what?” I just looked at her. “Guess who is all going to move into the house with us? You and my mother. Ahh… aren’t I just so nice? Oh wait! There is a catch though… you will be my butler!” My heart sank with disbelief.
I now cleaned the dishes in the large palace until I heard Drizella’s voice from the other room.
“Cindy?!” I ran to the other room to see my step mom, Drizella and Anastasia sitting by the large fireplace in the study. “Three ice teas please with lemon on the side…” Her voice was interrupted by the thumping of a person’s feet walking down the hallway.
“I can’t find my…” Prince Charming’s voice stopped when he saw my face.
“My Prince what are you doing here?” Drizella’s voice sounded more than concerned. She told me more than once to stay away from “her” Prince for he might remember what she looked like. I remember her telling me the only reason why I would be coming was because they had nowhere else to put me.
“Wow.” He said as he saw me and ignored his soon to be wife. “You look very… very familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” His eyes looked hard into mine and I became very aware of what I must have looked like.
“You don’t know her!” Drizella’s voice came out in shivers of fright.
“Yes. I think I do know her…. From somewhere.” He replied in a easy tone but was still looking at me hard as ever and I blushed. I opened my mouth to say something, sure that he would know it was me if I spoke but my step mother shot me a look that was worse than I have ever seen.
“What were you going to ask darling?” Drizella said trying to change the subject. “ Anyways… tomorrow’s the BIG day!!!” She almost screamed it like she was trying to make her Prince remember they were getting married the next day. I was so close to speaking and telling him that I was the one he met at the ball but he left before I could say anymore. I stared at him as he left and was disturbed by Lady Tremaine harsh voice.
“Cindy???? Get your act together and get those drinks! And don’t even think about talking to the Prince. You know what I did to you last time, don’t make me do it again.” I shuddered at the thought of being locked up in the bathroom again and waiting through the day with my “sister” getting married to my Prince that I loved.
It was the morning of the wedding and I was setting the table for the big dinner that is after the wedding. The tears ran down my face overwhelmingly fast and splattered down onto one of the golden plates. I missed my mice that ran around my feet. I missed the house that still had some remains and memories of my dad and me together. I missed that night that I would never get back; the night that I found my true love.
“Bidabee, Bidabo! What is there to do?!” A sing-song voice interrupted my shining of the silverware. I turned around to see none other than my fairy godmother. “Why I know what to do for this young girl with no clue!” She kept singing and I wiped my eyes.
“Grandmother…” I said happily. “Can you make me a dress or make the Prince remember me?”
“Why no child.” She said and there was a sharp feeling in my chest. “For you are the one who can make a difference, not me because love is the closest thing we have to magic.” She was right and I knew it but the wedding was in less than half an hour and I didn’t have enough time to get over to the of the palace were my prince was getting ready. I could run but I didn’t know if I was fast enough. My fairy godmother smiled at me, knowing what I was thinking.
“ Go ahead child and good luck.” She sang and disappeared into the air.
I ran right after she left and went to my “closet” room. I pulled out the last thing I had from that night I went to the ball: The other glass slipper. I ran out of the room and to the hall and darted down the 100 step stairs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Anastasia’s voice pierced through the air and stopped me dead in my tracks. I didn’t have time for this.
“I am trying to put my life back together… that is what I am doing.” My voice was sweet or that is what I was trying to make it sound like anyway.
“Ha ha ha.” She laughed like a hyena. “And do what? Make your prince fall in love with you? My sister is marrying him in 15 minutes and if you think…” I ignored her and brushed past her and ran.
“MOM!!!” She yelled so she could get her mom to stop me but I was determined to tell Prince Charming how I felt.
I held the glass slipper tight as I sprinted around the corner looking back to see if anyone was following me. I finally got to the door of where my Prince was getting ready. I opened the door and ran in and closed it behind me for I heard my step mother yelling my name from the other hall.
“Cindy? What are you doing here?” He said as he turned around and I noticed he looked more handsome than he did the night of the ball.
“I have to tell you something…” I said with my voice shaking. “I, I..” I couldn’t talk so instead I held up the other glass slipper. “I love you.’ I ended up saying.
“it was you!” He said it with excitement and happiness other than the way he said it to Drizella with questioning in his voice.
“Yes. I was the one who danced with you that night. I was the one that left at the sight of midnight. And I was the one who dropped this slipper that you have the pair to.” I looked up at him and he smiled and his white teeth glimmered n the light coming from the window. He crossed the room.
“I love you too. Even when I thought your sister was the one I danced with that night.” He bent down and kissed me and then grabbed my hand and went for the door. He locked it and then after 2 seconds you could hear the beating on the door.
“CINDERELLA!!!! What do you think you’re doing!” My step mom screamed so loud I thought the guest could hear her downstairs while waiting for the wedding to start.
“Let’s get out of here.” He said and we went out the back door of the room while his hand was pushing against mine.
…AND WE LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER!
“Good morning ladies…” I could hear Grand Dukes voice over the tiny mice scurrying around my feet.
I looked down at Gus and told him to be quiet. The tiny mouse that looked up at me in an apologetic head nod was my best friend for I was just a small, unfortunate girl locked in this house as a slave for my step mother, Lady Tremaine and her evil daughters, Anastasia and Drizella.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Grand Duke continued in his low voice but Drizella interrupted.
“Why that is fine sir, and we think we know why you’re here… I lost a glass slipper the night of your annual ball, Prince Charming. Are you here to give it back to me?” Her voice was high and overwhelmingly flirtatious.
My mind clicked in a instant and everything made complete and total sense. The magical night that I played over and over in my head as I fed the chickens, washed the dishes and cleaned the cinder of the fireplace came back to me. The way he held the small of my back and his wispy hair fell over his green sparkly eyes made my heart pound as I felt all eyes on me. For it was me who lost that glass slipper that night and danced with the prince but was rudely interrupted my midnight curfew. I remember lifting my soft graceful dress when I descended the steps and had my Prince running after me. I remember apologizing to him for leaving so early and him saying that he was falling for me. My heart pounded and my eyes started to water and I lost my balance when one of my glass slippers slipped off of my slender foot. I didn’t have enough time to put it back on so I kept running now hearing Grand Duck and Prince Charming both yelling after me wanting me to come back. They must be here to find me! My heart lunged with joy in my chest but was taken aback by the words of my step mother.
“Yes! She has been looking everywhere for that!” Her piercing voice made my hear want to cry out. The rest of the puzzle clicked in to place. I wasn’t fooling anyone when I came home at the right time that night. They all knew I was at the ball dancing with my Prince and now they are trying to take my place.
“NO!” I cried and all the mice ran for the door certain that they can help.
“You were there that night?” Prince Charming asked with confusion. His voice was just liked I remembered it.
“Of course I was, dear! I danced with you, why don’t you remember?” Drizella said in her voice again.
“And that is why we’re here!” Grand Duke boomed. “I heard many say that they were that one girl who danced with this young boy and we know they were lying for the shoe did not fit.”
I rattled the door knob even more and my eyes were filled with tears. I could hear one of my step sisters walk across the room.
“ Okay sir. See if the slipper fits. It is mine so this shouldn’t be a problem.” Although she tried not to, Drizella’s voice was shaking in fright for she was scared the slipper wouldn’t fit. It was quiet for a while and then the silence was broken by Lady Tremaine.
“IT FITS!” She cried and my heart broke right then and there. The tears came streaming down my cheeks as I leaned against the door and slowly sank down the floor of the small bathroom.
“You’re the one!?” Prince Charming’s voice was excited but unsure.
“Well of course I am! How could you forget?” Drizella’s voice was full of pure victory.
“Well then it is settled! You shall get married on Sunday and you shall invite whoever.” Grand Duke said unsure also. Sunday? That was in two days! My sobs were so loud I was surprised they couldn’t hear them. I looked out the window two minutes later to see my Prince carrying my evil step sister in his strong muscular arms to the carriage awaiting outside our large home.
Five minutes later, the door of the bathroom that I had been locked in opened up so fast that my blond, dirty hair blew back. My step mother turned around without saying a word and started to walk down the hallway.
“I don’t see my laundry that I have been waiting for…” she said in her evil, tense tone.
“Why? Why would you do that to me?” the tears started to well up in my eyes.
“Because you are not that girl! You will never be! My daughters deserve way more than you should ever! Now stop this and go finish the dishes!” She shouted and the tears overflowed in my eyes. I ran past her and to my claustrophobic room. I shut the door after my mice followed in. I put my face in the pillow and cried as hard as I could to think my fairytale was in reach but will never come true.
“Isn’t this just perfect!?” The voice of Drizella came behind me. She was back. “I had to send my fiancé home so I could gather my things and of course that you.” Her sarcastic tone was hard to listen to. I turned my head to look at her. “I just love how you thought you got away with everything! I saw you dancing with that man and thought you were actually going to steal my dream guy… but of course, poor, ugly servants never get the happy ending.” I looked at myself in the rusty mirror that hung next to my small bed. Starring back was a delicate girl was long blond hair. Her eyes were red and puffy which made the blue in them disappear. Her cheeks were white but her nose was as red as ever from blowing her noise.
“Not only am I happy, but my Prince has a cousin that Anastasia is brilliantly in love with and guess what?” I just looked at her. “Guess who is all going to move into the house with us? You and my mother. Ahh… aren’t I just so nice? Oh wait! There is a catch though… you will be my butler!” My heart sank with disbelief.
I now cleaned the dishes in the large palace until I heard Drizella’s voice from the other room.
“Cindy?!” I ran to the other room to see my step mom, Drizella and Anastasia sitting by the large fireplace in the study. “Three ice teas please with lemon on the side…” Her voice was interrupted by the thumping of a person’s feet walking down the hallway.
“I can’t find my…” Prince Charming’s voice stopped when he saw my face.
“My Prince what are you doing here?” Drizella’s voice sounded more than concerned. She told me more than once to stay away from “her” Prince for he might remember what she looked like. I remember her telling me the only reason why I would be coming was because they had nowhere else to put me.
“Wow.” He said as he saw me and ignored his soon to be wife. “You look very… very familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” His eyes looked hard into mine and I became very aware of what I must have looked like.
“You don’t know her!” Drizella’s voice came out in shivers of fright.
“Yes. I think I do know her…. From somewhere.” He replied in a easy tone but was still looking at me hard as ever and I blushed. I opened my mouth to say something, sure that he would know it was me if I spoke but my step mother shot me a look that was worse than I have ever seen.
“What were you going to ask darling?” Drizella said trying to change the subject. “ Anyways… tomorrow’s the BIG day!!!” She almost screamed it like she was trying to make her Prince remember they were getting married the next day. I was so close to speaking and telling him that I was the one he met at the ball but he left before I could say anymore. I stared at him as he left and was disturbed by Lady Tremaine harsh voice.
“Cindy???? Get your act together and get those drinks! And don’t even think about talking to the Prince. You know what I did to you last time, don’t make me do it again.” I shuddered at the thought of being locked up in the bathroom again and waiting through the day with my “sister” getting married to my Prince that I loved.
It was the morning of the wedding and I was setting the table for the big dinner that is after the wedding. The tears ran down my face overwhelmingly fast and splattered down onto one of the golden plates. I missed my mice that ran around my feet. I missed the house that still had some remains and memories of my dad and me together. I missed that night that I would never get back; the night that I found my true love.
“Bidabee, Bidabo! What is there to do?!” A sing-song voice interrupted my shining of the silverware. I turned around to see none other than my fairy godmother. “Why I know what to do for this young girl with no clue!” She kept singing and I wiped my eyes.
“Grandmother…” I said happily. “Can you make me a dress or make the Prince remember me?”
“Why no child.” She said and there was a sharp feeling in my chest. “For you are the one who can make a difference, not me because love is the closest thing we have to magic.” She was right and I knew it but the wedding was in less than half an hour and I didn’t have enough time to get over to the of the palace were my prince was getting ready. I could run but I didn’t know if I was fast enough. My fairy godmother smiled at me, knowing what I was thinking.
“ Go ahead child and good luck.” She sang and disappeared into the air.
I ran right after she left and went to my “closet” room. I pulled out the last thing I had from that night I went to the ball: The other glass slipper. I ran out of the room and to the hall and darted down the 100 step stairs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Anastasia’s voice pierced through the air and stopped me dead in my tracks. I didn’t have time for this.
“I am trying to put my life back together… that is what I am doing.” My voice was sweet or that is what I was trying to make it sound like anyway.
“Ha ha ha.” She laughed like a hyena. “And do what? Make your prince fall in love with you? My sister is marrying him in 15 minutes and if you think…” I ignored her and brushed past her and ran.
“MOM!!!” She yelled so she could get her mom to stop me but I was determined to tell Prince Charming how I felt.
I held the glass slipper tight as I sprinted around the corner looking back to see if anyone was following me. I finally got to the door of where my Prince was getting ready. I opened the door and ran in and closed it behind me for I heard my step mother yelling my name from the other hall.
“Cindy? What are you doing here?” He said as he turned around and I noticed he looked more handsome than he did the night of the ball.
“I have to tell you something…” I said with my voice shaking. “I, I..” I couldn’t talk so instead I held up the other glass slipper. “I love you.’ I ended up saying.
“it was you!” He said it with excitement and happiness other than the way he said it to Drizella with questioning in his voice.
“Yes. I was the one who danced with you that night. I was the one that left at the sight of midnight. And I was the one who dropped this slipper that you have the pair to.” I looked up at him and he smiled and his white teeth glimmered n the light coming from the window. He crossed the room.
“I love you too. Even when I thought your sister was the one I danced with that night.” He bent down and kissed me and then grabbed my hand and went for the door. He locked it and then after 2 seconds you could hear the beating on the door.
“CINDERELLA!!!! What do you think you’re doing!” My step mom screamed so loud I thought the guest could hear her downstairs while waiting for the wedding to start.
“Let’s get out of here.” He said and we went out the back door of the room while his hand was pushing against mine.
…AND WE LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Necklace
The large diamonds sank heavily on her bronze neck, enlightening her eyes and making her feel like she was someone important. Her long dress, fitted perfectly around her slim figure danced as she did with gracious husband. What a fine night that would be to have been the center of attention even though at home you are nothing but a house wife. Touching her neck as she waltzes home she gasps in horror to find that the necklace that she borrowed from a friend was not there hanging loosely on her neck. Without finding it, her sweet, selfless husband works hard to pay it off to later figure out it was not even close to what they thought it was worth. Guy de Maupassant has a way to make a story interesting and inviting while teaching you a lesson that on why we should be selfless.
Everyone in the world , even if you might not want to admit it, wants to be noticed in some way. Mathilde Loisel was “one of those pretty and charming girls” though she never felt like anyone really knew that she existed. Maupassant writes her character and tries to show that she thought she was born for every delicacy and luxury though now she is only a middle-class housewife. Many understand right away the hardship and depression that Mathilde is going through because of how the author writes her character. When she is presented with the invite that her selfless husband has worked hard to find, she rudely says she can’t go because she isn’t presentable and doesn’t want anyone to know that she is just a housewife.
“I don’t know exactly, but it seems to me that with four hundred francs I might do it.” She says to her husband.
He grew a little pale, for he was reserving just that sum to buy a gun and treat himself to a little shooting, the next summer, on the plain of Nanterre, with some friends who used to shoot larks there on Sunday. But he said—
“All right. I will give you four hundred francs. But take care to have a pretty dress.” Just by the selflessness of the words that Maupassant makes the man say starts to state the author’s point to this whole story.
She might have a dress but she must have a necklace that shows her beauty. Borrowing from her friend, Mathilde wears the necklace to the ball that is filled with men who seem to think she is one of the most beautiful woman. Though this is what she has always wanted, she came home to find something unremarkably saddening; She has lost her friend's beautiful diamond necklace. The unnerving energy washed through her body when she found a replacement that costs way to much than they can afford but then again, the selfless husband takes all of his time and work to try to pay of the necklace. The way the author writes to show understanding and contentment with the husbands life makes many want to read more and learn more into the questionable story.
Many have heard the saying stating that what you really wanted was there all along. Mathilde always wanted someone to notice her, accept her beauty and understand what she really wanted though she never really realized that that is what her husband has been giving her. To top off this lesson filled story, after ten long years of trying to pay back the expensive necklace and having Mathilde and her husband left with nothing, she finds later on that the necklace that she barrowed was decorated with fake diamonds instead of the real ones that she gave back. Even though his wife wanted all of these things including a dress, necklace and now that he had to pay of the loss of it, the husband still stuck with Mathilde even though this whole mess was because of her selfishness.
His heart sank when he couldn’t find the necklace that his wife has recently lost. She did look remarkably beautiful that night but because of that one necklace he had to waste ten years and the rest of the life trying to recover from the unremarkable mix up of the diamonds that lined the hollow part of her neck. Guy de Maupassant made a interesting point to state that what you have is the real treasure compared to what you want. The way he also showed selflessness by keeping readers interested in the story was very interesting and refreshing. The lessons and the way he sparks the thought of some concerns are incredible and with the bite at the end that pulls on the heartstrings really makes the story memorable. Though that is true, many also should realize that the author writes to make readers feel different and open to the idea of contentment, consuming the reality, and realizing that you receive more and feel better when you are selfless.
Everyone in the world , even if you might not want to admit it, wants to be noticed in some way. Mathilde Loisel was “one of those pretty and charming girls” though she never felt like anyone really knew that she existed. Maupassant writes her character and tries to show that she thought she was born for every delicacy and luxury though now she is only a middle-class housewife. Many understand right away the hardship and depression that Mathilde is going through because of how the author writes her character. When she is presented with the invite that her selfless husband has worked hard to find, she rudely says she can’t go because she isn’t presentable and doesn’t want anyone to know that she is just a housewife.
“I don’t know exactly, but it seems to me that with four hundred francs I might do it.” She says to her husband.
He grew a little pale, for he was reserving just that sum to buy a gun and treat himself to a little shooting, the next summer, on the plain of Nanterre, with some friends who used to shoot larks there on Sunday. But he said—
“All right. I will give you four hundred francs. But take care to have a pretty dress.” Just by the selflessness of the words that Maupassant makes the man say starts to state the author’s point to this whole story.
She might have a dress but she must have a necklace that shows her beauty. Borrowing from her friend, Mathilde wears the necklace to the ball that is filled with men who seem to think she is one of the most beautiful woman. Though this is what she has always wanted, she came home to find something unremarkably saddening; She has lost her friend's beautiful diamond necklace. The unnerving energy washed through her body when she found a replacement that costs way to much than they can afford but then again, the selfless husband takes all of his time and work to try to pay of the necklace. The way the author writes to show understanding and contentment with the husbands life makes many want to read more and learn more into the questionable story.
Many have heard the saying stating that what you really wanted was there all along. Mathilde always wanted someone to notice her, accept her beauty and understand what she really wanted though she never really realized that that is what her husband has been giving her. To top off this lesson filled story, after ten long years of trying to pay back the expensive necklace and having Mathilde and her husband left with nothing, she finds later on that the necklace that she barrowed was decorated with fake diamonds instead of the real ones that she gave back. Even though his wife wanted all of these things including a dress, necklace and now that he had to pay of the loss of it, the husband still stuck with Mathilde even though this whole mess was because of her selfishness.
His heart sank when he couldn’t find the necklace that his wife has recently lost. She did look remarkably beautiful that night but because of that one necklace he had to waste ten years and the rest of the life trying to recover from the unremarkable mix up of the diamonds that lined the hollow part of her neck. Guy de Maupassant made a interesting point to state that what you have is the real treasure compared to what you want. The way he also showed selflessness by keeping readers interested in the story was very interesting and refreshing. The lessons and the way he sparks the thought of some concerns are incredible and with the bite at the end that pulls on the heartstrings really makes the story memorable. Though that is true, many also should realize that the author writes to make readers feel different and open to the idea of contentment, consuming the reality, and realizing that you receive more and feel better when you are selfless.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Words and Actions Set the Atmosphere
The indistinct room was smothered by the sound of the old man’s soft breathing. His “evil” eye is cautiously closed as he sleeps and the closer the mad man gets to him, the stronger the force was to kill. Hurrying through his mind, the thoughts of the crazy man denied his idiocy of murder. The beating of the man’s heart fades into the dark the moment the man peruses his decision in this interesting story, "The Tell-Tale Heart." Edger Allen Poe writes each line of this suspenseful tale with careful thought and consideration, making each word become more of a interesting and mysterious way to explain the narrator’s feelings and actions.
The first sense of the word “murder” draws many images and settings into a reader’s mind making them realize how scary or frightened the characters feel in the story. When imagining these scenes, the background is never daylight; The aglow sun of the day is swallowed whole by midnight during a horrific time. Poe makes the setting during midnight when the man is dead asleep to make the outcome of this piece more eerie. If the setting was placed on a cloudless day with birds chirping and flying with the cool breeze, the uneasiness would disappear and that is what the author is trying to make the readers feel… uneasy. Authors pick names, settings, and time for a certain reason which is to set the atmosphere for this unforgettable tale.
Denying something so unjust, so many times, makes the reader believe that what you’re saying really isn’t true. With strong repetitiothe murderer telling the readers he is not mad (crazy), he makes the readers believe he is more mad than he wants anyon to realize.
“True!--nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses—not destroyed –not dulled them.” The murder speaks on page 383 trying to deny his absurdness. “Now this is the point. Your fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded –with what caution—with what foresight—with what dissimulation I went to work!” Yes the man is smart in ways that people must recognize but he is overwhelmingly stupid to peruse in a matter because of an “evil” eye that is connected to a poor, old, innocent man. Poe writes to make people believe and feel insecure about who to trust while he’s writing to set the frightening mood of this suspenseful death.
The floorboards creak under the weight of the murderer, while hiding a crushed body. The characters rise to power is great when he is through killing the eye. The feeling of doubt never crosses his mind though when he descends the stairs, his guilt gets the best of him when he hears the beating of the man’s heart as he’s talking to the police officers. When the word “descends” comes up in a story, Poe gives readers a strong foreshadow of a abominable scene. The author writes once again wach word to unravel more of the story and for this certain part, it is guilt. The quivering of the mad man’s heart is full with nervous guilt although he thinks the beating of the heart is not his nervous one himself… it is the dead old man’s heart that is strongly beating under the rough floorboard of the house filled with two, uncertain officers.
From the floorboard to the darkness of the midnight-stricken room, the way Poe incorporates the fright and uneasiness that slowly hipes up the reader even more by each word makes this tale such a classic. The way the man is telling the story and reminding the viewers that he is not mad, also changes the mood and atmosphere of everything around the quite room. Sleeping with his “evil” eye closed, the man is unaware of the death that near haunts him though the way Poe writes makes the story sort of peaceful. Each character, item and movement in a book makes the story more suspenseful, cheerful, or more horrific and reader’s should recognize that Edger Allen Poe has a strong act for that in the short story, The Tell-Tale Heart.
The first sense of the word “murder” draws many images and settings into a reader’s mind making them realize how scary or frightened the characters feel in the story. When imagining these scenes, the background is never daylight; The aglow sun of the day is swallowed whole by midnight during a horrific time. Poe makes the setting during midnight when the man is dead asleep to make the outcome of this piece more eerie. If the setting was placed on a cloudless day with birds chirping and flying with the cool breeze, the uneasiness would disappear and that is what the author is trying to make the readers feel… uneasy. Authors pick names, settings, and time for a certain reason which is to set the atmosphere for this unforgettable tale.
Denying something so unjust, so many times, makes the reader believe that what you’re saying really isn’t true. With strong repetitiothe murderer telling the readers he is not mad (crazy), he makes the readers believe he is more mad than he wants anyon to realize.
“True!--nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses—not destroyed –not dulled them.” The murder speaks on page 383 trying to deny his absurdness. “Now this is the point. Your fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded –with what caution—with what foresight—with what dissimulation I went to work!” Yes the man is smart in ways that people must recognize but he is overwhelmingly stupid to peruse in a matter because of an “evil” eye that is connected to a poor, old, innocent man. Poe writes to make people believe and feel insecure about who to trust while he’s writing to set the frightening mood of this suspenseful death.
The floorboards creak under the weight of the murderer, while hiding a crushed body. The characters rise to power is great when he is through killing the eye. The feeling of doubt never crosses his mind though when he descends the stairs, his guilt gets the best of him when he hears the beating of the man’s heart as he’s talking to the police officers. When the word “descends” comes up in a story, Poe gives readers a strong foreshadow of a abominable scene. The author writes once again wach word to unravel more of the story and for this certain part, it is guilt. The quivering of the mad man’s heart is full with nervous guilt although he thinks the beating of the heart is not his nervous one himself… it is the dead old man’s heart that is strongly beating under the rough floorboard of the house filled with two, uncertain officers.
From the floorboard to the darkness of the midnight-stricken room, the way Poe incorporates the fright and uneasiness that slowly hipes up the reader even more by each word makes this tale such a classic. The way the man is telling the story and reminding the viewers that he is not mad, also changes the mood and atmosphere of everything around the quite room. Sleeping with his “evil” eye closed, the man is unaware of the death that near haunts him though the way Poe writes makes the story sort of peaceful. Each character, item and movement in a book makes the story more suspenseful, cheerful, or more horrific and reader’s should recognize that Edger Allen Poe has a strong act for that in the short story, The Tell-Tale Heart.
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