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The rhythm of my morning walk to school is interrupted instantaneously by the torturing shriek of rubber tires skidding, only to be followed by the chilling screech of metal scraping metal. Down the street at the corner of St. Rose and Wyandotte, all eyes lock open in absolute shock at the tragic mess of a wrong turn. One cherry red Toyota truck had absorbed and spit out a silver Honda Civic. The surrounding air becomes smothered with a thick blend of the toxic fumes of gas and the cruel smell of charred rubber. Three young men race towards the wreck to rescue the victims trapped inside, as people take out their phones to shakily call 911. To the left, one car lays upside down, surrounded by a blanket of fragmented glass. To the right, there
A moment later she rushed out into the dusk, waving her hands and shouting — before he could move from his door the business was over. The “death car,” as the newspapers called it, didn’t stop; it came out of the gathering darkness, wavered tragically for a moment, and then disappeared around the next bend. Michaelis wasn’t even sure of its color — he told the first policeman that it was light green. The other car, the one going toward New York, came to rest a hundred yards beyond, and its driver hurried back to where Myrtle Wilson, her life violently extinguished, knelt in the road and mingled her thick dark blood with the dust. Michaelis and this man reached her first, but when they had torn open her shirtwaist, still damp with perspiration, they saw that her left breast was swinging loose like a flap,
(Ehrenreich 43). Her use of the words “drive by” and “mundane” exemplify the boring and relatively fast task ahead of her, comprised of no surprises and simple routine. When Ehrenreich discovers, however, that she is diagnosed with breast cancer, she refuses to accept that conclusion and examines the slides herself. Dobbs’ anecdote serves a similar purpose: to allow the reader, particularly parents, to relate their teen’s actions to the actions committed by Dobbs’ son. In his anecdote, Dobbs recalls a story in which his teen son was stopped by a police officer on the highway for driving 113 miles per hour.
Her ability to use incredibly graphic details poetically just enhance the experience for the reader. Her car ride is a solemn one, and readers are introduced to the disturbances inside of the car as well as outside. Olds is able to express to readers the issues her father has with drinking while associating it to the death outside of the car as well. She is able to bring readers into the dark car with her, witnessing the wreckage, the cars strewn over the highway, and most importantly the body of the woman. While the accident wasn’t any fault of the car she is riding in, she is up front with readers how her father is not quite sober, and just missed hitting someone himself. Olds is able to use the graphic imagery of the accident and the somber interior of the car to express the family struggles she endured as well. Sheltered by her mother from the scene outside, she is left reflecting on the life that is represented on the road. Readers can feel the dark turn of her thoughts as she compares the carnage on the road as “…glass, bone, metal, flesh, and the family” (Olds). It is this ending in which Olds allows readers to understand the complexity of feelings that were associated with the accident on the dark rain covered highway. Reflecting on the
Imagine a world where everything is black and covered in layers of ash, where dead bodies are scattered throughout the streets and food is scarce. When earth, once green and alive, turns dark and deadly. A story about a man, his son and their will to survive. Within the novel Cormac McCarthy shows how people turn to animalistic and hasty characteristics during a post-apocalyptic time. Their need to survive tops all other circumstances, no matter the consequences. The hardships they face will forever be imprinted in their mind. In the novel, The Road, author Cormac McCarthy utilizes morbid diction and visual imagery to portray a desperate tone when discussing the loss of humanity, proving that desperate times can lead a person to act in careless ways.
E-Report stated the following: Noah mentioned he ran away from home to a fireman during community helper day on September 29th. No questions were asked. Noah was encouraged by the fireman to not run away. On October 4th, Noah mentioned to Hanna that he ran away and a police man found him. Hanna asked why he ran away. Noah stated that Merrill did bad things to him. Hanna asked if he was okay and Noah said yes and then said he's much better now. Noah mentioned that he was trying to get to his grandpa's house. Noah did not give any more details that day. On October 6th Noah began wetting his pants during the school day. October 11th, Noah wetted his pants again during the school day. Today, October 16th, Noah wetted his pants
My feet planted firm on the ground as I bit the inside of my cheeks to feel something. My pigtails and gray uniform forgotten along with my surroundings as I just watched death do his work. I didn’t feel like a kid anymore. The once peaceful scene turned into a mass of chaotic moments as soon as metal clashed on metal, and the remains of glass littered the floor of the street in front of the fenced gates of my school. My peers screamed loudly but the sound of the crash replayed in my head, but worst of all is that I saw the blond hair of the woman cover her face like a veil tainted red. My teacher ushered us to wait inside yet my mind was numb and my thoughts blurred as I heard the cries of the adults.
On September 11, 2001 terrorists crashed two American airline airplanes into Twin Towers, killing thousands of people. It was the worst terrorist attack in American history and it showed us that we are not protected by Atlantic and Pacific. It showed us that we could be attacked by anyone at anytime. It showed us that if we will be attacked again that we can only depend on each other and not on other nations to help us. The 9/11 changed people forever, some lost family members or friends, others lost their jobs even so called “American Dream.”
Nothing compares to the hustle and bustle of the city at night. As you walk up and down the streets of any city, you make your way through a crowd that should be sleeping, walking to the beat of the subway below them. Each city is unique in the way it comes alive. The movement of the city is brought to life by Ann Petry in the novel, The Street. Petry uses strong imagery to show the bitterness of the cold wind and personification to bring the scraps of paper along the sidewalk of the city alive. The reader watches as the life of scraps of paper and wind blowing down alleyways connects Lutie Johnson to the city. Petry walks us with Lutie Johnson as she experiences a cold November night near seventh and eighth avenue.
Auto Wreck is an ominous, grim, and disturbing poem written by Karl Shapiro about death, fate, coincidence and the envisioning of reality. In this harsh poem Shapiro describes an awful car accident where many people ends up dead. He flawlessly employes a unique imagery and language that gives the reader a clear and true sensation of the terrible mishap. The author makes us feel as if we had seen and even experienced the car collision ourselves. Although it may see that the main focus in this poem is death, which is one of the most important, the poet also throws in the way he and everyone else saw everything after the accident, how their emotions changed, and how they envisioned reality afterward. Shapiro not only acknowledges and makes vivid the deaths that just occurred and how different people reacted to it, but he also discusses how much of an accident it really was, how someone had to be guilty and if anyone was really innocent at all.
The short story ‘On the Sidewalk Bleeding’ is intricate and complex, with many layers and descriptive features that makes the setting easy to visualize and interpret. To begin, in the beginning of the short, the author wrote the passage, “It was 11:13pm…” which sets the events at night; and exactly ten minutes before the protagonist, Andy, was stabbed, that was described in the passage: “He had been stabbed ten minutes ago.” Furthermore, the location is an alley, near a street which is busy with automobile traffic; the sounds of the tires sloshing through the puddles of water telling that the street was close to Andy. The passage, “He could hear the sound of automobile tires hushed on the rain swept streets…” describes that he’s close enough
Flying past I recall Chief Joe waving to me as he often did. Without hesitation my reflexes turned my bicycle around and peddled fast trying to catch up to the speeding responders. As I rounded the corner I saw the flashing red lights and devastation of the two motorcycles that had crashed. Two mangled bodies lay in the hot street, appearing lifeless as responders rushed to pull them from the realms of death. The roar of another firetruck was heard in the distance racing to the scene of the devastation but pulled into the freshly mowed hay field just before the crash site.
Point and Squeeze The 911 Carrera GTS is a superlative grand touring car that you’ll want to squirt all over the road and track Whenever a drive event takes place in Los Angeles, one thing is certain, you won’t be driving in LA, at least not for long. The order of the day is always to get out of town with it’s predictably terrible 24/7 traffic and find some more remote corner of California to test out the latest wares. This 911 Carrera GTS launch was no exception, and in vacating the (some would say vacuous) entertainment capital of the world, we found our way to a couple of exceptional spots for driving enthusiasts.
“Nearly 1.3 million people die in road crashes each year, on average 3,287 deaths a day. An additional 20-50 million are injured or disabled. More than half of all road traffic deaths occur among young adults ages 15-44.” (“Road Crash Statistics”) Auto disasters produce significant sentimental sorrows for family members and witnesses. The theme of grief and death are important concepts in the twentieth-century poet, Karl Shapiro’s, “Auto Wreck.” A spectator’s point of view is used to reach the universe of death along with the thoughts of voyeurism in Karl Shapiro's "Auto Wreck." Shapiro decorates the poem with intriguing inconspicuous dialect and a lovely, although rather disheartening, depiction of death all through the
I slowly trudged up the road towards the farm. The country road was dusty, and quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle. Only the clear, burbling sound of a wren’s birdsong sporadically broke the boredom. A faded sign flapped lethargically against the gate. On it, a big black and white cow stood over the words “Bent Rail Farm”. The sign needed fresh paint, and one of its hinges was broken. Suddenly, the distant roar of an engine shattered the stillness of that Friday afternoon. Big tires speeding over gravel pelted small stones in all directions. The truck stopped in front of the red-brick farmhouse with the green door and shutters. It was the large milking truck that stopped by every Friday afternoon. I leisurely passed by fields of corn, wheat, barley, and strawberries. The fields stretched from the gradient hills to the snowy mountains. The blasting wind blew like a bellowing blizzard. A river cut through the hilly panorama. The river ubiquitously flowed from tranquil to tempestuous water. Raging river rapids rushed recklessly into rocks ricocheting and rebounding relentlessly through this rigorous river. Leaves danced with the wind as I looked around the valley. The sun was trapped by smoky, and soggy clouds.
The reckless driver hit us straight on, then “Bang!” a loud noise resonated through the air, and abruptly my body flew out and hit the pavement of the road. Everything around me was simply a white haze for a few seconds after the impact. My body felt extremely heavy and the sharp pain throbbed throughout my face and body. Lying there on the rough asphalt, I faintly heard my mom and Carrie call out to me, “Sydney! Sydney! Are you okay? Answer me! Sydney!” I wanted I speak up and answer them, nonetheless, it was useless, my voice just wouldn’t make a sound. The desperation in Carrie’s and my mom’s voices reverberated to me across from where I was lying. My mom frantically ran up to my side and hugged me tightly in her arms. Blood was squirting out of her pinky, where the top of her finger had been severed. The places where my mom’s tears fell, stung my wounds, nevertheless, it was nothing compared to each little movements that caused the pains to electrify through my body severely. Every second was hell, the pain was just utterly agonizing and tormenting. Whether it was due to the pain or the exhaustion my body suffered, my mind slowly drifted off and I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. As my eyes gradually closed, the blazing siren seemed to have grown louder little by