One crisp November morning before the sun rose, Lew, an artist of about thirty was crouched on the porch of an abandoned house. Lew’s house, a dilapidated victorian home that had been split up into six apartments, sat next door. He was waiting to follow his neighbor Molly, an attractive young women who made her living dancing at the Lucky Lady, a local gentleman’s club. Molly usually arrived home around 3:15am after the Lucky Lady closed and would leave her place at 5:00am. Most nights Lew played video games or watched crap TV all night and slept all day but always aware of Molly’s comings and goings. “What kind of business does a stripper have at 5:00am?” Even though they lived on the same floor and shared the stairs that led to their apartments they hadn’t run into each other but a few times in the two years he had lived there. The first meeting was on the stair case. “Hey, I’m Lew.” “I’m Molly.” “How long have you lived here?” “About 5 years.” “Have these fucking stairs always been like this?” “Yep.” Molly opened her door, walked in without saying another word. They had met a few more times but it was always a superficial greeting. Once Lew went to the Lucky Lady and sat in the dark so that Molly wouldn’t see him. The feelings that washed over him came as a surprise - rather than lust he felt pity for her. Though her body called out to men with it’s sensuous curves and soft skin that begged to be touched, her eyes told a different story - one of sadness and loss. Lew, more curious about Molly with each day, watched her more closely out his window one morning. When she left at 5:00 she carried a full basket. The basket was empty When she returned. Puzzled by this, Lew decided to follow her. The next morning... ... middle of paper ... ...nd on Molly's shoulder, "You're his muse, yes?" "What? No. No! I don't know," Molly falling all over her words not understanding what was happening. "Isn't this you in the paintings my dear?" Loraine said trying to clarify. Red faced Molly said, "No, it isn't! It can't be!" "Oh my dear I'm almost certain the lovely vision is you. There is an uncanny resemblance." Calming down a bit Molly shyly replied, "Do you really think so?" Loraine continued, "And your spirit fills the room just as the paintings do. Haven't you noticed you've captured the eye of everyone here?" "No, it can't be!" Feeling vulnerable Molly started toward the door to leave. Loraine called after her, "Are you OK? What's your name?" Molly walked faster. Lew glimpsed Molly as she ran out the door. He tried but he couldn't get away from a long winded potential buyer to go after her.
Filban said the home had a yard that was overgrown. “The trees and bushes were overgrown, and the house was dark,” Filban said. “And the windows were covered.” She and her sister slept in the front bedroom of the house. She remembers the bedroom having a large, floor-to-ceiling window. She said you could look out and see the wra...
Jim’s feeling of loneliness has a big impact on his view of Alena. If Jim met another girl that day on the beach, and who was not as attractive he would have acted very different. Jim was very vulnerable at that moment and needed som...
, how it drowns to his attention how much he had longed for his sister/future wife to be. Yet he never felt so lonely whilst within her company. Whether it was the fact that the burning desire driven him away. Or just his sheer highly intelligent curiosity got in the way of settling for second best.
Hollow eyes glanced around the pristine apartment, the gray scale color scheme seems to match the women clasping her hands together, pursing her lips and searching for approval from the girl that stood in the doorway. Automatically, the girl deduced the woman was quite wealthy, especially in the neighborhood she'd now live in. The streets were busier, filled with nicer cars instead of busted ones without their fenders falling apart at the edge. Her nimble fingers explored the wall as she took careful steps into the living room. Winnie wasn't acclimated to this life style: the wallpaper wasn't being striped at the corners, stainless carpets without nothing questionable left behind, no sign of undesirable critters, and silence. She could finally
The patient was more beautiful than she realized. If only she could see it for herself. The color from her dainty face had drained to a sickened green tint and her eyes widened in fear. The walls of the clinic exam room were ordained in calming colors, but offered the young woman no comfort. She continued to blink rapidly as if she would awaken from the nightmare; her long eyelashes could not fan the health worker’s words away. She thought it was harmless, just a night of fun. It made her feel valuable and attractive. Yet being desired now left her alone, crumpling to the floor screaming between sobs and desperately reaching to the empty air around her. She couldn’t grasp any security. Not only did that harmless night of fun result in her becoming
He knew she was worried, angry, and euphoric all at the same time. It wasn't the first time he had deflowered a virgin. His cynical attitude found her stupid and uninteresting. How could she have been so gullible? Yet he couldn't deny he had been touched by her beauty and by the way she had yielded to him so easily. This girl wasn't coy, she was real, and she was going to enjoy her pleasures.
Scarlett found her way to her feet with Molly’s help, she let her slender body lean against her friend. Slowly and unbalanced they made their way to the staircase and began to climb as they bumped into other drunken party goers who either giggled or made a perverted comments. Scarlett stumbled and almost fell again but Molly’s firm grasp held her up, They walked the long upstairs hallway but could see no sign of the boys anywhere. Then slight groans beckoned to them from the room at the end of the hall, they looked at one another and lightly laughed at the thought of two random drunks screwing in someone else's
As the story unfolds and we begin to see the depth of Louise’s thought processes, the imagery that expresses these feelings of new-found freedom, and the reactions, or lack thereof, to the loss of her husband. We start to realize that there are two meanings to this initial statement of “a heart trouble” (236). We may come to understand through these subtle inferences that her heart trouble can also mean that although she is loved by her spouse, she is a passive, intelligent, unhappy woman, who has not had the pleasure of
Later that day, she overheard Mike fussing with their younger brother (Danny) he said, “I wanna go Mike, please let me go!” For he admired the elder very much. “No, don’t follow me.” Mike answered sternly. Then Danny went home upset. When Mike started to move in the alley,
By the time I’d gotten to Latria’s, I’d already told her about picking up my bangles from mom’s house, Jason and the fake flyer, Trent and his late night conversation with Diamond, and Boogie coming on to me. After hearing about all of those things that I’d encountered in less than a 24-hour time frame, Latria already had our drinks poured when I arrived. I hadn’t been over to her place for a while, and I noticed that she’d painted the kitchen a sage color and hung new curtains. I kicked my shoes off at the front door and went to sit on my favorite couch.
As portrayed by her thoughts after sex in this passage, the girl is overly casual about the act of sex and years ahead of her time in her awareness of her actions. Minot's unique way of revealing to the reader the wild excursions done by this young promiscuous adolescent proves that she devalues the sacred act of sex. Furthermore, the manner in which the author illustrates to the reader these acts symbolizes the likeness of a list. Whether it's a list of things to do on the weekend or perhaps items of groceries which need to be picked up, her lust for each one of the boys in the story is about as well thought out and meaningful as each item which has carelessly and spontaneously been thrown on to a sheet of paper as is done in making a list. This symbolistic writing style is used to show how meaningless these relationships were, but the deeper meaning of why she acted the way she did is revealed throughout the story.
The landlady goes through a phase of wooing before the murders by winning over the character with a cozy looking house, the appearance of a harmless little old lady, and a low price to stay for the night. While the character was walking down the street trying to find a place to sleep, he stumbled upon a cozy looking bed and breakfast “ he went
while moving and handling Mrs D from the bed to the armchair, the moving process was explained to her and what she was expected to do before the move, she was happy and she was reminded each step to take, and she participated well and moved safely to the armchair.
Especially after being told the news of Mallard’s death, Louise “wept at once,” “with sudden, wild abandonment” (63). So far I have not suspected anything wrong with her reaction, even though Louise “did not take the news as many women have” (63). The description of her alone in the room, is the turning point. The presentation of what she saw when look out of the window hits me. In Louise’s mind, “trees that were aquiver with the new spring life” (63). I remember hard times that I have in my own life, nothing in the world could look right, there is no happiness and positive things. But why would Louise point out “delicious breath of rain,” “sparrow were twittering in the eaves” (63) at the time of her spouse’s death? Those words foreshadow the ironic happiness that Louise feels at being free. After realizing the expressed meaning behind the word, I was shocked by her real reaction and disappointed with her view of marriage. I couldn’t believe that someone could look at love and marriage in such a negative
Her eyes glistened with tears as her lips trembled. The face of a woman, so powerful and with undeniable strength, had become weak in the sight of what lay before her. The man she loved. The man she cherished. What made her cry? For love had to be the strongest of all emotions to induce even the smallest of tears