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
to the street to hear the noises, but the continuation of the passage, “…far away at the other end of the long alley,” indicates that he feels like he’s far away, though he’s not. Finally, the weather is rainy and harsh, swamping the street and alley. Rain is typically a tool that writers use to set a somber tone for their stories, which is used effectively in this one, making the readers have a pain in their hearts from the vision they see of the scene. This short story is a work of art, and the descriptive writing of the setting is what makes this art a true masterpiece of fiction.
In “On the sidewalk bleeding” Evan Hunter uses symbolism and characterization to convey that there is more to life than what people are labeled as.
The town of Halifax in West Yorkshire had never experienced such a manhunt in it’s history (Glover 3). During a short, but long lasting in feeling, time period in late November through early December in the year 1938, the town of Halifax underwent a period of mass hysteria. A mysterious “slasher” hid in the shadows and lunged out with a razor blade at people who passed by (Halifax Slasher).
While Joseph Boyden 's Three Day Road is an exploration of the horrors of the Great War, it is as much a tale of homeland horrors. The stories Niska tells Xavier point to the devastation wrought by residential schools, racially motivated sexual violence, and government-sanctioned genocide all underscore historical violence. The bridge which Boyden uses to compare the violence of the homeland and that with the Great War is the figure of the windigo, a cannibalistic monster which roams both the frigid bush (44) as well as the devastated, crater-filled warzone of France (349). The novel’s emphasis on precognition, the genealogical destiny of windigo-killers, and the metaphoric nature of the Windigo enforces Niska 's explanation to Xavier that
The third person omniscient point of view in The Street by Ann Petry helps show Lutie Johnson’s feeling of victimization. A parasitic relation is revealed between herself and the setting. Lutie Johnson’s perception and relationship with the urban environment is established through extremely vivid imagery and personification.
“Car Crash While Hitchhiking” is told in the first person by a narrator who claims that he can perceive future events, the story jumps around in time. The story is primarily focused on an automobile accident and its aftermath. Under the influence of drugs and alcohol, the narrator maintains that during the thunderstorm he can distinctly identify every drop of rain, even going so far as to recognize each droplet by name. The line that captures this “I knew every raindrop by it’s’ name” (Johnson, 1992, p. 288) this magical heightened awareness is in part a side effect of the drugs he is on. Eventually a family a man and his wife, Janice, and their baby gives the narrator a ride, and he falls asleep. The family’s car is struck by a driver who has apparently fallen asleep at the wheel. Covered in blood and trying to carry the baby to safety, the narrator seeks help from a truck driver passing by. After telling the events of that night, the story moves several years ahead in the future where the narrator is admitted to a hospital for medical treatment of his substance abuse. At the time a nurse is injecting him with vitamins, and while hallucinating that he is in a rural back drop. Causing the narrator dis believe that he can help anyone, including the reader. Here is where the conclusion of this short story is reach leaving the reader with a bleak outlook on the
There are two real conflicts in Jean Toomer's "Blood-Burning Moon." The first is racial, which can be referenced in the very first sentence, and the second is a gender conflict, that subtly unfolds with the main characters' development. In this essay, I will show how Toomer uses vivid descriptions and comparisons of nature to establish these conflicts, and also to offer an explanation of their origin. He writes to argue that these roles, like the earth, are natural and therefore irrefutable. A close reading of the opening paragraph will reveal the sharp contrast between white and black, as it is described in a metaphor of wood and stone.
Conflict is an important part of any short story. The short story, “On the Sidewalk Bleeding,” contains three major conflicts: man vs. man, man vs. nature, and man vs. himself. In this essay, I intend to explain, prove, and analyze these three struggles.
Alice Walker is a well-known African- American writer known for published fiction, poetry, and biography. She received a number of awards for many of her publications. One of Walker's best short stories titled "Everyday Use," tells the story of a mother and her two daughters' conflicting ideas about their heritage. The mother narrates the story of the visit by her daughter, Dee. She is an educated woman who now lives in the city, visiting from college. She starts a conflict with the other daughter, Maggie over the possession of the heirloom quilts. Maggie still lives the lifestyle of her ancestors; she deserves the right of the quilts. This story explores heritage by using symbolism of the daughters' actions, family items, and tradition.
If an individual is familiar with their surrounding “they are more likely to help” (Altruism and Helping Behavior. Print). In the essay, the authors state “the scene of the crime, the streets, in middle class society “represents all the vulgar and perilous in life” (Milgram, Stanley, and Paul Hollander. Paralyzed Witnesses: The Murder They Heard. Print.). In society, the streets, especially at night, represents the dangerous and negative sides of society due to the crimes and chaos that occur on the streets (gangs, drive-by shootings, robberies, murders, large crowds walking, etc.). The crimes and dangers of the streets cause many people to fear being on the streets alone which leads to external conflicts. When the murder was occurring, the witnesses’ attitudes of the streets prevented them from calling the police due to the fear of the streets and since the witnesses were middle-class, they believed that Genovese was poor, a criminal, or someone who has nothing else to do and was expecting for the=is to eventually
The literary choices in the short story, “The Pedestrian,” help convey the meaning to readers by using descriptive diction to set the tone of the story. As Mr. Mead, the protagonist, is taking his daily walk he notices the little things in life. This story is set in the future so it is foreshadowing what might happen to people’s lives. The diction that is used helps the reader understand the tone of the story.
Normally a sidewalk is use for people to walk on, for safety and to used it as guidance. But a sidewalk can also be used to describe a person's life because of how is structure, the different colors that it may have. Sometimes people do not take care of them or roots grow underneath them. As a result they get full of cracks. Symbolically some people can use a sidewalk to describe their life because of all the steps that may take you to get to the place where you want to be or to where you already are. Moving to a different country requires of many decisions and lots of steps to get there and succeed.
It looks asthetic.” “did you even bring your camera. I guess stoping for 5 minutes wont hurt”, i respond. Jake has a deep affection to photography and he’s not wrong. My cousin is a photographer and sometimes he takes me with him when he goes on short trips. He has a blog, inspiring people with his astonihing photos. Thats how i see him as when he grows up. I turn around to check on jake but he grabs my wrist roughly and starts running. “Whats going on? Stop running”, i say suprisingly hoping for an explanation. He stops for a moment and i stop to trying to catch my breath from all that running. “Behind that bush…. The birds….”, he hesitates. “THERE’S A DEAD BODY”,he later screams. I try to stay calm but i couldnt. I just couldnt. “What do you mean theres a dead body? How? Whats going on? Lets just…. Lets just call the police”. So many questions are running through my head. I dont even know what to think anymore. I walk over to the bushes, my body shaking and whivering in fear. My eyes widen and i stood their shocked, frozen. My mind just couldnt take it in. i go back rushing to jake, grab his hand, and gallob my feet away from the forest as fast as i can. We arrive back at the entrance gate and i pull my phone out of my pocket. “What are you doing”,jake says suprised. “Im calling the police. We cant just stand their looking at a dead body and not report it”. I dial 911. “Hello Salmon-Challis police
When he passed, the guy hung out the window and taunted me. “Hey, come here!” he joked as he hit the horn. He had a grin of pure evil on his face. The flow of the traffic saved me, because it restricted him from stopping. Tears came to my eyes, because I knew was alone. Independence, it’s what I prided myself on, and now it was my weakness.
Peering out through my window, I watched Mrs. Clutch press a hand to her mouth as wrinkle contorted over her forehead. The officer spoke to her as if a burden weighed down on him, leaning back on his heels and resting his hands on his hips. He gestured to the vehicle containing Thaddius occasionally, and Mrs. Clutch’s shoulders began to tremble. This continued for a few more minutes before the officer retreated back to the car, disarmed the lights, and pulled away from the curb with Thaddius still in the back. Mrs. Clutch remained on the lawn for quite sometime. My heart went out to her, yet I couldn’t remove myself from the window, rather I just watched as she cried before dragging herself back into the house.
Have you ever been scared for the safety of a complete stranger? Have you changed somebody’s outlook on life just by being a Good Samaritan? Well, I have. It was a late Thursday night and I was in a bad part of town informally known as “The Knob.” I had been at a friend's house when we decided to leave to find somewhere to eat. On the way, my friend got a call from his mom telling him he had to be home. His house wasn’t really out of the way. As I pulled down Belle Avenue, towards his house, another friend of mine shouts out “Hey, pull over that guy just knocked that girl out” I instantly questioned this absurd accusation. “What? You’re joking.” As I turned around I noticed that he certainly wasn’t as I saw a middle-aged lady facedown on the pavement. Without hesitation I parked the car and we all ran over to see what was going on. You could see in the distance a man in an orange hooded jacket fleeing the scene. My friend attempted to wake this lady up. She was out cold. At this point each one of us had no idea what we should do. Obviously, the first thing we should have done was call the police, but let me remind you this was a bad part of town and didn’t know if we would be the next. Tommy, my friend, the nearest house and knocked on the door. A trashy looking man answered the door. After being informed that there was an unconscious lady in front of his house he scurried to her aid. The man then realized it was a good friend of his. Jane was her name. You could sense his anger and concern for this lady. He began to frantically ask questions. Who, what, when, where, why, how and every other sort of interrogation question was thrown our way. We described her assailant and which way he went. Evidently it was her boyfriend. At this ...