Feudal Japan, 1233 A.D
I still remember the look on my mother’s face, as I was pulled out of her tight grasp. I cried like never before, as I was being taken into the carriage. The guards had an accent like the men from the east. Wearing grey clothing with helmets that had antlers. They had horses which I had never seen before, black with silky hair like the finest silk that the lord's wore. Consequently I was terrified of what was going to happen next, there was a man whom I commanded to let go of me, he ignored and then threw me into the carriage. It was gloomy, also smelling like the faeces of the cattle. I was the only boy there, there was a tiny hole next to me; I had no clue what I was doing but I looked through it anyway. I saw an isle
…show more content…
After I got captured in this wasteland, I made a couple friends. I was given the name Tsuchiya; named after the great captain of the Oshima district. "Master, what is the point in doing all of these useless moves." Raichi protested. "You'll never become a samurai if you don't want to learn discipline, now go run around the high mountains for 25 minutes". Master responded. I was later told that Raichi was my cousin, there was no evidence stating why; but I had to accept it. Master had had a nice cup of sake, as we were performing the moves he was telling us to do, until one moment he pointed his finger towards me and gestured for me to come. “You’ll now be betrothed to my daughter, with my command" Master stated. "Yes, I will do as you're told", insisted Master; I couldn't do anything about it, not following Tohan customs will result in a death penalty. I later met this woman at the wedding, She came upto me in a perturbed state "I understand that we need to get married, but we will now need to escape this hell hole, we should start up our own clan." Maichi said. She told me of a plan, then it was an act of Justice. I stood up on the roof of the temple of the commander. Gave out a speech which then caused the people living in suffering repent. "Today is the day, to create a new tribe, new opportunities for all residents". There was a great war, between the residents and the military. As I was
I had only to close my eyes to hear the rumbling of the wagons in the dark, and to be again overcome by that obliterating strangeness. The feelings of that night were so near that I could reach out and touch them with my hand… Whatever we had missed, we possessed together the precious, the incommunicable past. (170)
The religious procession, with their full regalia and stoic expressions, belied the emotions that were surely heavy laden. Their slow, methodical pilgrimage hinted that they were beginning what would ultimately be a funeral procession. The brave young men, escorted by their elder counterparts, were led to slaughter much like sacrificial lambs. The fact that they were escorted sends the message that they were truly doomed, much like prisoners being led to their executions. Finally, the awful silence radiated throughout the land.
“It was a large, beautiful room, rich and picturesque in the soft, dim light which the maid had turned low. She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mourning notes without promise, devoid even of hope. She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro, down its whole length, without stopping, without resting. She carried in her hands a thin handkerchief, which she tore into ribbons, rolled into a ball, and flung from her. Once she stopped, and taking off her wedding ring, flung it upon the carpet. When she saw it lying there she stamped her heel upon it, striving to crush it. But her small boot heel did not make an indenture, not a mark upon the glittering circlet.
... packs the boy sandwiches for the journey. The boy has seen people in striped suits riding in wagons to hard labor before, so he knows what he is looking for. He begins wondering around trying to find men in striped suits working. His journey was a failure; however, he ends up finding newspapers and magazines to practice his reading. The stories in the papers are never happy and they made him afraid. He thinks the stories from the Bible that his mother tells him are stories best. He reminisces how his mother tells him stories from the Bible about Joseph and David. Every time he goes searching for his father he remembers the story about King David hearing the wind and knowing that God is always near. The boy wasn’t afraid with David near. As he reminisces, he falls asleep and he thought he heard Sounder rising out of his great throat, riding the mist of the lowlands.
The Battle of Hastings saw the clash of two military systems. The Saxon army, centred on the King’s personal bodyguard of “housecarles", comprised the universal levy, the “Fyrd", led by the local leaders of each shire with their households. The Third stood behind and were paid during the way when other housecarls were slained.
My eyes follow the jet black hands on my watch that creep more and more nigh five past six. As the big hands of the clock pass the minutes go by that guarantee relief from agony. The more that time expires, the flowers begin to wither like the hope in my heart that Hester with arriving at the cathedral due to the notice is given by the letter. The wind howls and slams into the cathedral doors giving me false hope that the women of my dreams will be walking through the door. Bending at the waist, and praying to god Hester will come to greet me I feel a breeze hit the back of my neck and reawaken from my concentration in God. As I rise from the pew, I see small women walk through the doors with a black clock and a candle whose burning wax drips down the sides, casting light that guides the way to me. Thine figure in the black cloak hands me a letter and runs away without my response.
Singing loudly and out of tune, a rude awakening to Jotaro who was still enjoying a dream he was going to write out later. Walking from his room, grogy in pajama pants alone, Jotaro found Joseph in the kitchen, making breakfast. He can see it was a simple breakfast; just bacon, eggs and toast. Jotaro stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Joseph sing dramatically as he made a face on a plate with the food.
“Then the High Priest ordered all uninitiated persons to depart, invested me in a new linen garment and let me by the hand into the inner recesses of the sanctuary itself, I have no doubt, curious reader, that you are eager to know what happened when I entered. If I were allowed to tell you, and you were allowed to be told, you would soon hear everything; but, as it is, my tongue would suffer for its indiscretion and your ears for their inquisitiveness.”
While reading early Japanese literature, it is apparent that poetry embedded within the prose is a significant part of the overall experience of the storylines. There are times at which, in the case of Ise Monogatari, it is apparent that the story, written in prose, is not the main focus of the entry. The poetry is a delicate form of self-expression that was the only form of expression in the time before fiction and journal entries. “The seeds of Japanese poetry lie in the human heart and grow into leaves of ten thousand words. Many things happen to the people of this world, and all they think and feel is given expression in description of things they see and hear. […] It is poetry which, without effort, moves heaven and earth, stirs the feelings of the invisible gods and spirits, smooths the relations of men and women, and calms the hearts of fierce warriors” (Rodd 35) The “leaves of ten thousand words” is in reference to the literal meaning of “Man'yōshū”, a very famous, large compilation of Japanese poems that has influenced many things following it.
At last I arrived, unmolested except for the rain, at the hefty decaying doors of the church. I pushed the door and it obediently opened, then I slid inside closing it surreptitiously behind me. No point in alerting others to my presence. As I turned my shoulder, my gaze was held by the magnificence of the architecture. It never fails to move me. My eyes begin by looking at the ceiling, and then they roam from side to side and finally along the walls drinking in the beauty of the stained glass windows which glowed in the candle light, finally coming to rest on the altar. I slipped into the nearest pew with the intention of saying a few prayers when I noticed him. His eyes were fixated upon me. I stared at the floor, but it was too late, because I was already aware that he wasn’t one of the priests, his clothes were all wrong and his face! It seemed lifeless. I felt so heavy. My eyes didn’t want to obey me. Neither did my legs. Too late I realised the danger! Mesmerised, I fell asleep.
In the beginning the Monsieur ran his carriage over a little child. With dismay and an ill looking face the child’s father cradled the boy while Monsieur was throwing shillings at him. Despair and anger filled the air, yet not a soul knew what the father was about to do. A while later a barrel, full of wine, spilt and out came hundreds of people attempting to drink it up. The same man with the deceased child was there and with the wine he spelt out “BLOOD” on the wall. This was a clue of what was coming but it did not fully tell you of what that was.
The Merchant leaned over me, and began cursing repeatedly in a native language, the Merchant also took the liberty of beating me. I tried curling up into a ball, only to continue getting beat. When the voice of a man shouted “STOP”, the merchant turned around and was greeted with a sack, after looking through, the Merchant closed the bag and began bowing to the feet of that man, he began to leave only to come back and kick me, muttering, “If you ever come back, I’ll feed you to the vultures” The man who rescued me looked somewhere to be in his forties and dressed in the fine clothes of the upper class, his tiny mouth broke into a smile as he picked me up from the shirt, and said my name is “Jonathan Howard”, “what is yours boy”. I wouldn’t answer and no way was I going to tell this upstart wealthy man who I was. Oh, I forgot to mention my name, Sage as you will probably hear later on. Anyway, I got hit by that fat, useless caretaker at my Orphanage who happened to see me as I was being beaten doing her
Art in Japan and art in the United States have their similarities and their differences, while also being viewed in different ways. Every work of art is unique in its own way. There are many different types of art, but each work of art has its own meaning. Depending on the eye of the beholder, a work of art can relate to you in many ways, and can be taken apart like a puzzle in your mind to understand the deeper aspect of it, while also deciphering its message. Others may not relate to the work, may only see the basic picture, and not understand the point or meaning of it. The same work of art can get opposite reactions, which shows that people have different ways of seeing the world that they live in.
One afternoon, when the cold of the winter was starting to settle upon the edges of the village like a silent shadow, my brother left with Maura to the market for some groceries. Little Mathias was asleep in his bedroom, and I had already bored my mind off with no one to play with. Then I heard him. Paris had come into the room, barking mad as soon as he laid eyes on me. His loud howls hitting at my nerves like needles. I stood up warning him to be quiet, but he would not listen. I remember my temper suddenly slipping off. He was almost as big as me, but when I knelt down to scold him, accumulated anger in my eyes, I couldn’t stop myself. I wrapped my hands around his neck as he tried to run away and for a second all I saw was terror before I watched life drain out of his body. Maura and Toby arrived just minutes later to find me sobbing uncontrollably in the floor, not being able to look at the dead body a few feet away. The terrified expression in Maura's eyes and the bitterness underneath, still seem to haunt me, her thoughts clear to me as glass, monster. Besides that I cannot...
The dawn came near and I sat down to wash up at the lake near the town and sat. I soon walked to the river and hear a breath come from a tree. My curiosity got the best of me and I slowly walked up and looked behind the tree. There he was a black figure with a smooth back sharp jawbone and short black hair matted with mud.His face looked so innocent while he was sleeping and the thought of dogs ripping his smooth black skin to shreds. ‘’Would he cry?” I thought. His face and strong arms Said no but his dirty clothes and skin said he was not doing