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Comparison of two movies
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Jumping Off a Cliff As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
Fear is an amazing emotion, in that it has both psychological as well as physiological effects on the human body. In instances of extreme fear, the mind is able to function in a way that is detached and connected to the event simultaneously. In “Feared Drowned,” Sharon Olds presents, in six brief stanzas, this type of instance. Her sparse use of language, rich with metaphors, similes and dark imagery, belies the horror experienced by the speaker. She closes the poem with a philosophical statement about life and the after-effects that these moments of horror can have on our lives and relationships.
Death’s whisper traveled in my ear, wrapping around my mind, “I can take you away from this madness. Beyond this hell, that is life.” “Will it be more peaceful there?” I asked. “As serene as heaven above.” Possessive Depression responded. My heavy heart fluttered at the thought of serenity. No more painful days, or lonely, restless nights. No more of this living death. Anxiety murmured all my insecurities tempting me to make the decision, as every tick-tock from the clock he held, echoed in my brain, putting fear in me of things that will never happen. I thought about the invitation to eternal sleep, “I would finally be able to extract this smiling mask…” Thus, I decided to join the dance of death, done dealing with my dilemmas.
Boom. Breath. Boom. Breath. Each step sounded like a war drum banging in my ears. The harmonious rhythm of my steps consistent with my breath continued on and on as I made my way up the side of the cliff in the middle of these Colorado woods. The sweltering heat was hindering my vision, and I began to feel dizzy. The worst part is, I am all alone.
Her spry, Timberland-clad foot planted itself upon a jagged boulder, motionless, until her calf muscles tightened and catapulted her small frame into the next stride. Then Sara's dance continued, her feet playing effortlessly with the difficult terrain. As her foot lifted from the ground, compressed mint-colored lichen would spring back into position, only to be crushed by my immense boot, struggling to step where hers had been. My eyes fixated on the forest floor, as fallen trees, swollen roots, and unsteady rocks posed constant threats for my exhausted body. Without glancing up I knew what was ahead: the same dense, impenetrable green that had surrounded us for hours. My throat prickled with unfathomable thirst, as my long-empty Nalgene bottle slapped mockingly at my side. Gnarled branches snared at my clothes and tore at my hair, and I blindly hurled myself after Sara. The portage had become a battle, and the ominously darkening sky raised the potential for casualties. Gritting my teeth with gumption, I refused to stop; I would march on until I could no longer stand.
Falling Down The 1993 film falling down provides a look into two separate men’s lives in the course of one day. Although the movie was highly acclaimed for it’s portrayal of the new human situation, the covert and overt racism, sexism, and classism leave a sour taste in this viewer’s mouth. The movie comes across as a lame attempt to show the “White man’s ever growing burden.” The audience is expected to feel a compassion for both lead characters. The message that is supposed to be portrayed is similar to films of today such as fight club and American beauty.
I’ve done some scary things before and I always had the courage and motivation to do it, but this time, my courage abandoned me and just disappeared as if it was never there. It was a cool and chilly day, but the sun was shining hard at my favorite ski resort in Lake Tahoe in December. Crisp, white snow was delicately falling from the sky and it covered the ground like a blanket. But the luminous sun was melting the snow, making it wet and slippery. The trees on the side were towering but slender with dark, brown trunks and bright green leaves. I was wearing a cumbersome jacket and a helmet and I was starting to sweat a lot in the heat. There were tons of people in thick jackets carrying skis, poles, and snowboards milling around. I was in a lengthy line of people, all waiting to go on a ski lift. The lift led to a monstrously huge hill that I was about to ski on.
Josiah, McCaan and Ms. Fawcett, a well- known family in West Plano had their lives taken on Friday morning. I woke up to the endless amounts of notifications on my phone and the lists of missed calls. My heart was unsteady as I feared what was ahead of me. I promised myself I was in a nightmare but what I thought was a nightmare turned into reality. I was distraught and lost in words, my heart mourned for my friends. I had been informed that McCaan had stabbed Josiah and his mom to death that night and McCaan had been a star basketball player at Plano West but his dreams came to a halt as he suffered two concussions. I could see the dramatic difference before and after his concussions. I feel as if this resembles the part when the boys were being worked up at the bottom of the mountain. They were chanting and yelling, their minds were seduced into an animalistic nature and this led to the murder of their fellow friend, Simon. Josiah had a dynamic personality and magnetism about him. He was considered a leader and an independent person like Simon he was a courageous person and symbolized his independence by searching for the parachutist, alone. I felt there was a void in my heart. I missed him. In my life, I had never really been exposed to death. It never crept upon me or happen
Disappointment, disbelief and fear filled my mind as I lye on my side, sandwiched between the cold, soft dirt and the hot, slick metal of the car. The weight of the car pressed down on the lower half of my body with monster force. It did not hurt, my body was numb. All I could feel was the car hood's mass stamping my body father and farther into the ground. My lungs felt pinched shut and air would neither enter nor escape them. My mind was buzzing. What had just happened? In the distance, on that cursed road, I saw cars driving by completely unaware of what happened, how I felt. I tried to yell but my voice was unheard. All I could do was wait. Wait for someone to help me or wait to die.
I turned off the car and took a deep breath. Looking slowly up into the pink sky, I began to watch the golden sun go to sleep. The beach seemed deserted, quiet, but peaceful. I opened my door and put my feet out on the soft sand. I started taking my shoes off, then my socks. I threw them in the passenger seat, and then shut the door. I looked out over horizon of the lake and started walking towards the still water. With each step I took, I could feel the warm sand crunch between my toes. Then suddenly, a sharp rock, but not sharp enough to break the skin.
Arising, I stretched and felt by bones creak and pop, my muscles protesting. Yawning largely, I pushed the boulders out of the way and squinted my eyes against the harsh sunlight streaming into the cave. Stepping out of the cave I stumbled back in horror and shock, everything I had ever known was gone; the trees were white and barren of all of their leaves. The ground was void of all grass, nothing green was anywhere in sight. I cantered off towards the river, hoping that it wasn’t gone too. Luckily, it wasn’t, however, the river had odd green slime coating it,...
It was a dark and stormy night, and I could still feel its presence. The soporific words crawling up my neck. Just enough to let my imagination wander. His spirit, his soul, was embedded within me, and haunted my conscience, my thoughts, my mind. The spirit of my dead father, or is he really dead at all? His uneven lips pulled into a tight smirk. I shuddered and quickly scrawled the last words onto the leather page. Many of our fears are tissue-paper-thin, and a single courageous step would carry us clear through them, I thought as I jumped into the frigid water. With the knife raised to my neck, the water slowly then abruptly turned dark red…
With stress on my mind and a cookie in my hand, I headed towards the wooded area behind her home. At the beginning of the trail, there was an old rotting tire swing barely hanging onto a low-hanging branch. The extensive amount of muddy puddles and the surrounding damp grass made me hesitant to follow through with my grandmother’s suggestion; the mountain of homework that waited for me back at home convinced me to continue. Trees towered over me, adding to the existing weight of stress that sat upon my shoulders, as I carefully maneuvered around the biggest puddles, beginning to become frustrated. Today was a terrible day to go for a walk, so why would my grandmother suggest this? Shaking my head in frustration, I pushed forward. The trail was slightly overgrown. Sharp weeds stabbed my sides every few steps, and I nearly tripped over a fallen tree branch. As the creek barely came into view, I could feel the humidity making my hair curly and stick to the sides of my face. After stopping to roll up the ends of my worn blue jeans, I neared the end of the trail. Bright sunlight peeked through the branches and reflected off the water. The sun must have come out from behind a cloud, seeing as it now blinded me as I neared the water. A few minutes passed by before I could clearly see
Skydiving has been around since ancient Chinese times as a form of aerial stunts. Leonardo da Vinci and the Chinese are both credited for creating the parachute, but it was really in the 18th century when France both created it and used it by basically throwing themselves out of planes. Little did anyone know that skydiving would be one of the craziest sports today. Jumping out of a plane two and a half miles up into the sky would not be someone’s idea of a normal day. As bad as two and a half miles up in the sky is, try doing it traveling at a rate of one-hundred and sixty miles per hour with just a parachute to save you. To many people this would be a nightmare; but to some of us, it is the biggest thrill of our lives.
I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be seeing these long finger shaped shadows that stretched out to me. I had this gut feeling as though something was following me, but I assured myself that I was the only one in the forest. At least I had hoped that I was.
there collect liana vines and wind them into long cords. The men then scale six