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War and it's side effects
Negative effects of war
The after effects of war
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Fear rises in crescendo in me. Papa Christophe is now gone. No shrieks, no struggle, no clamor. Just death. I climb clumsily to the nearby woods but my mind is losing its way to conscious.
“Marie?”
My legs are tangled with anxious. Residents around me are dead still under the cover of the fractured moonlight. Layers of darkness flood my mind along with waves of dread. I’m terrified. More than terrified. My heart flops like a dead fish running dry of hope.
Here comes agony and nausea. My own fear starts to tear my flesh and my mind is wrecked with despair. Callous machetes and guns are everywhere, all wet with my tribe’s blood. The sickening smell stings me and agitates my bodily functions. Every detail of this death scene is now etched into my brain.
“Marie? Marie wake up.”
Thousands and thousands of abandoned bodies lie across the fields in a ruby pool of blood; their faces are brimmed with hatred as if they regard this flagitious world with disgust even when they meet their ends. The air I’m breathing in is becoming more and more stale; every breath I take is acc...
It was a village on a hill, all joyous and fun where there was a meadow full of blossomed flowers. The folks there walked with humble smiles and greeted everyone they passed. The smell of baked bread and ginger took over the market. At the playing grounds the children ran around, flipped and did tricks. Mama would sing and Alice would hum. Papa went to work but was always home just in time to grab John for dinner. But Alice’s friend by the port soon fell ill, almost like weeds of a garden that takes over, all around her went unwell. Grave yards soon became over populated and overwhelmed with corpse.
live in the wilderness can recognize the central truth of existence, which is that death lives right beside us at all times, as close and as relevant as life itself, and that this reali...
BANG, BOOM, BLAM,TAT-A-TAT, TAT. My ears are assaulted with noise, my eyes witness squirting blood a soldier is shot. I observe soldiers blown away by bombs. I see blood that saturates an infantry man. I view maimed men and observe limbs with fragmented bone. I witness militia dead on the ground. I listen to screams, grunts and gurgling blood in a man's windpipe. WHOOSH, flame throwers make a path with flames blazing burning men instantaneously. My eyes reveal the emotion that rips through my heart, tears drip down my cheek. I turn my head. I cannot watch a soldier cradle his buddy as he dies.
In Ishmael Beah’s memoir A Long Way Gone, Beah’s imagery represents the struggle and misery of the Sierra Leone people are going through with the rebels invading. To begin, after Beah spends two days straight walking he arrives at a village that has already been condemned by the rebels. In the village Beah sees dead bodies everywhere, which fills his mind with the gruesome ways of death the men and woman suffered through: “I had seen heads cut off by machetes; smashed by cement bricks, and rivers filled with so much blood that the water ceased flowing… my body twitched with fear”(49). During this event Beah could not get these gruesome images out of his mind. Beah tries closing his eyes trying to hide away his vision to help the thoughts leave.
The mind is a very powerful tool when it is exploited to think about situations out of the ordinary. Describing in vivid detail the conditions of one after his, her, or its death associates the mind to a world that is filled with horrific elements of a dark nature.
Artists portray gruesome events in many ways including poems and videos. Gruesome events are portrayed in similar ways and also different ways including what is put in and what is left out. Whether it be leaving out who started the war, telling the whole story, or emphasizing elements in different ways the artist clearly portrays the Civil War of Spain as a gruesome and horrifying event. Both mediums clearly show how life was before the war and how people have been hurt. Both artists give the reader a sense of how the war affected everyone in Spain and eventually give the rest of the world a reason to “come and see the blood in the streets”(1/5 voices).
In the novella Heart of Darkness and the collection of poems Native Guard, Trethewey and Conrad depict vivid images of decaying corpses and bodies to show society’s ability to manipulate justice.
Death’s whisper traveled in my ear, wrapping around my mind, “I can take you away from this madness. Beyond this hell, that is life.” “Will it be more peaceful there?” I asked. “As serene as heaven above.” Possessive Depression responded. My heavy heart fluttered at the thought of serenity. No more painful days, or lonely, restless nights. No more of this living death. Anxiety murmured all my insecurities tempting me to make the decision, as every tick-tock from the clock he held, echoed in my brain, putting fear in me of things that will never happen. I thought about the invitation to eternal sleep, “I would finally be able to extract this smiling mask…” Thus, I decided to join the dance of death, done dealing with my dilemmas.
Dealing with the death of a loved one is one of life's most challenging obstacles. The pain and suffering that a person goes through cannot be fully understood unless experienced firsthand, like people that have experienced death through abortion. However, for some who have experienced death in war, death is something more like a game, where it is feared, yet made fun of in hopes of lessening the truth of reality. In the short story, “The Things They Carried”, by Tim O’Brian, the author demonstrates his attempts to make death less real through tactics like telling stories about the dead as if they were living, joking about zombies and conceiving the dead as items instead of people.
This tribe brings nothing but death and destruction to the island. Moreover, the newly formed group of warriors even develop a dance that they perform over the carcass of the dead pig. They become so involved in this dance that that warriors kill one of their own kind. By chance, Simon runs from the forest towards the group that is already shouting “‘Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!’” (152).
However, even though the terms being used are grotesque and seem to describe beasts, the very conditions being described are so humanly in their nature that it cannot possibly be all dehumanizing. In this chapter, the protagonist is the fallen friend of Dong-Ho named, Jeong-dae, describing his experience as a soul post-death and the scene that followed his murder. The imagery he looks down as a fallen soul he describes in detail, “I’d lost so much blood that my heart finally stopped, the blood had continued to drain from my body, leaving the skin of my face transparent as writing paper” (51). The narrator himself describes his appearance as comparable to objects rather than a human and thus the interpretation that these words and scenes are dehumanizing is easy to understand. However, blood, heart, skin, face, body, even stench from the deceased, the limpness of a dead body, the convulsions that follow a blunt force trauma, all of these are human features and characteristics. These are the reactions and affects of trauma that any human would experience and it is clearly distinct form that of an animal because it is able to be talked about an communicated in language form souls or from others seeing it. Through these descriptions and graphic scenes, the author is humanizing the victims and allowing all readers to hear and feel the horrors that is the effects of war and violence on the human
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
Fear is an amazing emotion, in that it has both psychological as well as physiological effects on the human body. In instances of extreme fear, the mind is able to function in a way that is detached and connected to the event simultaneously. In “Feared Drowned,” Sharon Olds presents, in six brief stanzas, this type of instance. Her sparse use of language, rich with metaphors, similes and dark imagery, belies the horror experienced by the speaker. She closes the poem with a philosophical statement about life and the after-effects that these moments of horror can have on our lives and relationships.
The detailed descriptions of the dead man’s body show the terrible costs of the war in a physical aspect. O’Brien’s guilt almost takes on its own rhythm in the repetition of ideas, phrases, and observations about the man’s body. Some of the ideas here, especially the notion of the victim being a “slim, young, dainty man,” help emphasize O’Brien’s fixation on the effects of his action—that he killed someone who was innocent and not meant to be fighting in the war. At the same time, his focus on these physical characteristics, rather than on his own feelings, betrays his attempt to keep some distance in order to dull the pain. The long, unending sentences force the reader to read the deta...
	The pounding of shells, the mines, the death traps, the massive, blind destruction, the acrid stench of rotting flesh, the communal graves, the charred bodies, and the fear. These are the images of war. War has changed over the centuries from battles of legions of ironclad soldiers enveloped in glimmering armor fighting for what they believe to senseless acts of guerrilla warfare against those too coward to be draft-dodgers. Those who were there, who experienced the terror first hand were deeply effected and changed forever. In their retinas, images of blood and gore are burned for the rest of their life.