Fear and Loathing I hadn't even realized that I'd fallen asleep until my eyes fluttered open. The smell of sickness and death refilled my nostrils. To think I'd almost gotten used to it... My legs were numb from sitting down in this cramped space. This wasn't meant for people, this was meant for cattle. My eyes must have been permanently adjusted to the darkness by now, and they searched around for my sick grandmother. “Babcia?” I called out in my native language. I felt her brittle hand close around mine as a sign she was still there. My grandfather was next to me, so I didn't have to worry about him. Even though it wasn't, it felt so long since I ran the family shop with my grandparents... before it all happened. “Feliks?” My grandmother called out from the front of the shop. “Yes, Babcia?” I replied, sorting different …show more content…
“Babcia!” I yelled, and panic rose on my grandfather's face. My grandmother just sent me a smile – I assumed she was too sick and confused to realize what was going on. Before I knew it, my grandfather was separated from me as well. He was with other elderly and sick men, and they were being herded towards a corridor on the left, like sheep. I was too shocked and confused to comprehend what was going on. I felt as if I was in a tunnel, slowly reaching the light at the end of it. I wanted to cry, sleep, run, and vomit all together. I was scared. I only realized I wasn't in some twisted nightmare when I could feel the stinging of a number being tattooed into my inner arm, and it seemed like the next minute I was watching my brown hair fall onto the floor in locks. I felt myself being forced through a shower, if I could even call it that. The water felt as cold as ice, and the smell of death still clung to me. Everyone was given worn out blue and some form of white pajamas. They made me miss my old clothes, even if they had the Star of David embedded on
Lisa Genova’s grandmother, who was 85 years old, had been showing signs of dementia for years; but she was a smart and independent woman who never complained, and she navigated around her symptoms. Her nine children and their spouses, as well as her grandchildren, passed off her mistakes to normal aging. Then they got the phone call when Lisa’s grandmot...
Solomon Gursky Was Here is an epic novel spanning nearly a century and a half, from the mid 1800's to 1980's. It is the story of the obsession of Moses Berger, a Rhodes scholar turned alcoholic, with Solomon Gursky, the charismatic son of a poor immigrant. Solomon, with his brother Bernard and Morrie, built the massive liquor empire of McTavish industries. Moses is attempting to write a biography of Solomon, which becomes his life's work. Through his investigations the complex story of five generations of Gurskys is revealed. The eldest is Ephraim, Solomon's criminal, perpetually scheming grandfather. Ephraim, is constantly associated with the raven, he escaped imprisonment in England in the mid 1800's by forging documents, also allowing him to join a crew searching for the Northwest passage, called the Franklin Expedition. The expedition turned into a total disaster, Ephraim, the sole survivor. The youngest Gursky appearing in this story is Isaac, Solomon's grandson. This complex tale unravels, as Moses recalls, all of the events in his life which pertain to it. Ever present in this Canadian cultural satire is the theme of filial relationships and the exploration of Solomon and his re-incarnation as Sir Hyman Kaplansky, in conjunction with his family and their exploits. Every character in this novel is in some way corrupt or failure. Moses is an alcoholic who did not live up to his potential; Bernard is a greedy self-centered bastard;
My grandmother has a certain look in her eyes when something is troubling her: she stares off in a random direction with a wistful, slightly bemused expression on her face, as if she sees something the rest of us can’t see, knows something that we don’t know. It is in these moments, and these moments alone, that she seems distant from us, like a quiet observer watching from afar, her body present but her mind and heart in a place only she can visit. She never says it, but I know, and deep inside, I think they do as well. She wants to be a part of our world. She wants us to be a part of hers. But we don’t belong. Not anymore. Not my brothers—I don’t think they ever did. Maybe I did—once, a long time ago, but I can’t remember anymore. I love my grandmother. She knows that. I know she does, even if I’m never able to convey it adequately to her in words.
When I was ten, my parents hosted Thanksgiving dinner at our home. Toward the end of the evening, my grandmother asked my grandfather if he wanted to go for a walk. “No,” he said. “I have the abbiocco.” My grandmother smiled. I asked my grandfather what that meant--he wouldn’t tell me. My grandmother explained, “The abbiocco is the
The Story begins on a beach with three young children playing. Violet, 14, inventor; Klaus, 12, amateur researcher; and Sunny, baby, professional biter who has not totally developed speech. When they arrive to the beach it is a cloudy foggy overcast day. Violet is spending her time here skipping rocks, Klaus is studying tide pools and Sunny is just enjoying her time being at the beach with her older siblings. Even though it is not the greatest day in the world, the children are enjoying their time spent here at their favorite place. No other people are here on beach and this gives the children a place to be alone with their imagination. While playing a gentleman is approaching, but with the fog it scares the children because they cannot see who walks beneath the fog. As the figure gets closer they start to figure out who it is. The strange figure that lurked in the fog is Mr. Poe a friend of the family. Mr. Poe comes over to the children playing and explains to the children that their parents have perished in a fire that destroyed their home. Mr. Poe explains to the children that they will have to live with his family temporarily until he can figure out a plan as to where they will go.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
Nostalgia. That’s what I’d felt, it was like an overwhelming wave of worry and happiness holding me back and not letting go, and it was. I’d also felt pain, but that was probably from the broken arm. It had been five years since I’d seen V and here we were again, both in the hospital, of our own accord. Again. My heart pumped, and I couldn’t sit still. We’d fought, literally all the time, on purpose. It’s not like we hated each other or anything. It was just our way of having fun. This is a weird way of fun. Said everyone but us.
I didn’t know what happened, but worse, I didn’t know what was happening. The sounds of footsteps neared my body, but I was too hurt to react.
The desert sun beats down on her as she runs. She has never had to run like this in her life. She is fast, but they are faster, and it’s only moments until they realize she is gone.
My grandfather’s death brought a whirlwind of questions. Why had a simple staph infection turned into a state of delirium? What happened? Why don't the doctors know what’s wrong? And I wasn’t the only one with questions. Nana didn’t know what or who to blame. She didn't even know the name of the disease that killed him — so she blamed whatever she could, whoever she could. Most convenient for her: my mom and me. We were not present for Papa’s actual death. We said our goodbyes the week before when it became apparent that he wouldn’t be
“Please! Don’t do this!” the girl screamed. She held her arms up in defense against the malevolent figure with a crown of thorns placed on its head and a blood-stained, white trench coat that enclosed her body.
I take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. How bad could it be? 4 people fall from the sky... What could happen?
Looking down the hole that led to nowhere, I could taste the bitterness of my fate; the sour spit that hunger had released into my dry mouth drizzled around in an uncontrolled manner. My stomach churned and my intestines were strangled, as though a snake had twirled around them and slit them with its sharp and jagged teeth releasing a strong poison that irritated the surface of my innards.
Outside, the Howling swept across the dark forest and slowly the deep, colorless fog suffocated the land, from great arch trees - ancient and wise, to struggling briars – hardy and wicked, till the stubborn weeds – everlasting no more. Shadows flitted just beyond sight, faintly outlined against the pale mist. Impossible shapes, a scrambling of limbs, their countless eyes, watching, watching from afar. But they were getting closer, closer, closer. There was no moon tonight.
“Grandma?” I called, as I began to ascend the carpeted stairs. When I reached the second floor, I headed to my grandma’s room, where I saw her lying in her bed. I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed near her.