“Come on!” Nancy whispers to me as I scurry towards her down the deserted street. I swing my bag over my shoulder as I try to keep pace with her. “Hurry! Or we’ll never make it” she snaps. “The others are meeting us beside the tracks.” I breathe in the cool night air and clench my fists, desperately trying to stop them from shaking. Nerves? Excitement? I still couldn’t tell. I stare out the cracked window as Lily plays around the stream at the bottom of our Garden. She hums happily under her breath as she dips her toes into the water, staring at the lush Farm that lies on the other side. I call her in for her dinner and she hurries towards me, the innocent joy of childhood written all over her face. As me and my daughter enter the faded …show more content…
But now I see it every day. I see her empty face staring back at me from the women that I pass in the street. Now I realise that she could not help what happened to her. It was this place that did it. I feel it happening to me every day. I feel the darkness closing in as it becomes harder and harder to find a reason to smile. The only happiness I get these days is from the innocent little girl that lies upstairs. I am my mother, but I will not let Lily be me. The next morning I wake Lily as soon as I hear James slam the door behind him on his way out to work. I watch him stumble down the dirty streets the large brown factories. I help Lily wash her hair and tie back her golden curls with her green ribbon as she puts on her favourite white summer dress. I grab her jacket as we reach the bottom of the stairs, fastening it around her body as she slips her shoes on. “Where are we going?” she asks me rubbing at her sleep filled eyes. “On an adventure” I whisper in her ear. She giggles excitedly as I snatch up the bag that lies beside the door. Lily grasps at my hand as we wander along the quiet streets of the city. When we finally reach the station and step out onto the deserted platform I see the questions in Lily’s
I think this is because she says that she wants to be “normal”. ” Because I just want to be normal for a little while-not a refugee girl looking for her mother, but a regular girl paying a summer visit to Tiburon, South Carolina.” This says how Lily desires to be “normal” and live a “normal life”. I believe this because her reaction to the news was incomprehensible. She didn’t take the time to actually listen to the reasons why her mom left or why her mom didn’t take Lily with her.
...into their home, help her to find the answers she has been looking for, and introduce her to the life of bees and honey. Starting off giving the impression of being filled with sorrow, the novel gives away details of such a tragic event that occurred, and it turns out to be nothing like the impression given off. The book is filled with all the answers that Lily yearns for, and she is welcomed by several women throughout the book who fill that emptiness inside her. This book serves a good read for anyone of any age: young or old.
She committed suicide. I wasn’t surprised because she never had anyone visit her throughout the eighteen years that she was here. Excruciatingly, loneliness can close in on anyone – especial people in here. But what I find strange is that she died after seeing the one
Through her defense of her situation, she exposes to the reader the underlying insecurities that riddle her mind about her mothering. The tale opens with the narrator explaining the pain she feels when she is reminded of her past and the choices she made. The main character reflects on how the situation may or may not have affected her child Emily. As she suggests, although it is years later, she still does not have time for her children. The mother feels all her children after Emily have had it better.
The story opens by embracing the reader with a relaxed setting, giving the anticipation for an optimistic story. “…with the fresh warmth of a full summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green (p.445).”
But this time it was too much. Another place. Another spirit. This time it was someone I knew.
The short stories “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” and “The Short Happy Life of Francis Mocomber” were both written by world renowned author Ernest Hemingway. The two stories are written completely unrelated to each other; however, both stories have vast similarities in the time and place in which they take place. Hemingway is a writer that is very methodical in his word choices. When reading these two stories a second time the reader finds considerable differences in the writing style the author uses in each story. To demonstrate, three sentences from each story will be compared and contrasted to show the differences in word usage, word connotation, and to find which story is written better. The initial pair of these sentences to be looked at are, “A fourth planed down, to run quick-legged and then waddle slowly toward the others,” from the short story “The Snows of Kilimanjaro,” and “On the far bank of the stream Macomber could see, above the trees, vultures circling and plummeting down,” from the story “The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber.” The subsequent couple of sentences are “’You Bitch,’ he said,” from the “Snows of Kilimanjaro” and “’Why not let up on the bitchery just a little, Margot,’ Macomber said, cutting the eland steak and putting some mashed potato, gravy and carrot on the down-turned fork that tined through the piece of meat.” Finally, the third set of sentences are “She shot very well this good, rich bitch, this kindly destroyer of his talent,” from the story “Snows of Kilimanjaro” and “’That was a good shot,’ Wilson said,” from the story, “A Short Happy Life.”
"Still with Charlotte then" She asks as we jump in a cab and about two hours later we reach Calcutta and we spot a little girl Natasha walks up to her as I turn to the group of men we have assigned to us
She blows Morris a kiss and pulls up her surgical mask. Ginger walks into the room.
Her journey begins by introducing the reader to a new change in her life, the new house her family has recently moved to, due to her prior home being destroyed. The beginning of the book consists of random experiences that can resemble a form of diary or journal. The narrator continuously jumps from
The night before, I didn’t practice my English so I knew what to say. By now, I knew most of the words, so I would just let my heart guide me. Besides, my cramped old house, which is actually just a junky garage in an abandoned alley, is too small to let out my feelings. Once I got to school after a cold walk in the snow, I placed myself by her locker and waited. Fourteen minutes had gone by, and still no sign of Lily. I only had a minute to get to class now, so I hurriedly collected myself and ran to my locker. I was disappointed, knowing that without Lily here, it would be the hardest day of school. I opened my locker and to my surprise a note fell to the floor. I quickly picked it up and gazed at the neat handwriting that clearly spelled my name.
I arrive home around 11:00 p.m. to a sleeping wife and child. I walked into my daughter Emily’s nursery to give her a kiss goodnight. I leaned in and placed my lips on her forehead as she lightly opened her eyes. I rubbed her back and sang softly to put her back to sleep.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
“What are you doing? We need to get going I told you to pack your bags yesterday.”
It was finally fall break. I was visiting my grandma for a few days. Well past dinnertime, I pulled up to the white stately home in northern rural Iowa. I parked my car, unloaded my bag and pillow, and crunched through the leaves to the front porch. The porch was just how I had seen it last; to the right, a small iron table and chairs, along with an old antique brass pole lamp, and on the left, a flowered glider that I have spent many a summer afternoon on, swaying back and forth, just thinking.