BEHIND HER CLOSED EYES, Lorelei was wide awake. She was afraid to open her eyes. And rightly so. She was afraid that if she opened her eyes and Jared realized that she wasn’t hurt, he’d leave. She was feeling no pain anywhere in her body and the child within was as lively as he’d been before her fall down the steps. She lay quietly and without so much as a twitch listening to May-bell and Jared’s concerned voices. It warmed her heart to hear the concern in Jared’s voice. He seemed genuinely worried about her and their unborn child. If only he’d give her a chance – a real chance – then there’d be no need for her to stoop to such deceptions as this. If only he’d crack open the door to his heart just a smidge so that she might rush in …show more content…
Sweet as honey I was. I never said no angry words to him and I always make my-self available to him – to talk at first. Then I starts to cook for him, I sewed for him, I washed clothes for him, and I do other things for him, too, she said giggling. Soon, he forgets all about old Earlene. And from then on Booker was my man.” The woman leaned in so close, that Lorelei could feel the woman’s breath on her face. “I say you lay here in this bed and be as sweet as molasses pie and you let Mr. Jared wait on you. In the morning when I tells him you awake, you smiles at him and you tells him you need him to help you to the pot and you let him wash you up. All over Miss Lorelei. It so much snow out there he can’t go nowhere for a while. Best do what you can while you can. Anyways, that man so guilty, you can have him waiting on you hand and foot tills he forgets all about Ruby. I only saying this because if it weren’t for the kindness you showed Booker and the rest of them, they’d be in pretty bad shape out there. But because of you, Mistress Lorelei, I’m sure they be …show more content…
He fig-ured that the normal half hour walk home might take as long as two hours in snow this deep. And then there was the wind and the cold to contend with. The wind was blowing across the river and up over the embankment making the snow it carried colder and wetter than the snow blanketing the ground. He would have to use every skill he’d learned, living in these hills, to complete the journey without getting lost, freezing to death, or at the very least ending up with a severe case of frostbite be-fore he made it back to Ruby. He took the bottom blanket off his straw mat and cut it into wide strips wrapping them over the thin moccasins he wore to reinforce them. Next, he tore a piece of the blanket long enough to cover his head and ears. And the last part of the blanket he wrapped around his bottom half. He then took his last remaining possession in the world, a thin wearing blanket, that Powder Face, the Chief of the Southern Arapaho, had given him as a parting gift, and wrapped it close about his body. The thin wearing blanket offered little if any protection against the snowy winds but it was all he had
Dialectical Journal Chapters 12-18 Vocabulary 1. Contemptuously- Showing or expressing disdain or scorn. 2. What is the difference between a'smart' and a Prerogative- An exclusive right or privilege.
(6) The suddenness of the winter storm caught people by surprise. A roar “like an approaching train” was all the warning the storm gave. (130) The roaring wind and snow brought darkness and dropping temperatures. The people who were inside when the blizzard struck faced a dilemma. Staying inside and doing nothing seemed “heartless,” but going into the storm “on a rescue mission was likely to be fatal to the rescuer and useless to the lost.” (143) The people who were unfortunate enough to be away from home, whether they were at school or working with their livestock, had to make a difficult decision. They could either risk trying to make it home or chance it out and stay where they were. Schoolteachers had to decide whether to send the children home or keep them at the school. If anyone ventured outside, he or she risked frostbite, hypothermia, and likely
During our class discussions, the issue of identity in Marjane Satrapi’s novel, Persepolis (2004), became a contentious issue. The question was asked whether Persepolis might be understood to being in-dialogue with western ways of seeing and did the effects of modernization influence the identity of Marjane’s protagonist in Persepolis. How does the novel involve the issue of identity? I will extend the argument and, through the exploration of Marji’s changing ideologies, I will attempt to prove that Marji is caught between the traditional eastern culture and western modernization.
In his article, “Let it Snow,” David Sedaris takes us into a personal perspective of his life. He tells a childhood story in a way that makes his readers feel emotionally connected to some of his exciting turned difficult encounters as a child. By sharing a time of the past, Sedaris not only explains the thrill of the accumulating snow, but he unleashes the blatant issues beyond the snow. Sedaris describes a fun day in the snow with his siblings; however, they return home to his mother having a breakdown. Sedaris writes that their “presence had disrupted the secret life she led while we were at school, and when she could no longer take it she threw us out” (quoted in Faigley 421). Sedaris’s article unveiled a darkness that lied far beyond the constant snow, all while maintaining an upbeat mood of the piece throughout its entirety, helping to build the anticipation as the conflict approaches.
When writing any sort of narrative, be it novel or poem, fiction or non-fiction, scholarly or frivolous, an author must take into account the most effective manner in which to effectively convey the message to their audience. Choosing the wrong form, or method of speaking to the reader, could lead to a drastic misunderstanding of the meaning within an author’s content, or what precisely the author wants to say (Baldick 69). Even though there are quite a bit fewer words in a graphic novel than in the average novel, an author can convey just as much content and meaning through their images as they could through 60,000 words. In order to do that though, their usage of form must be thoughtfully considered and controlled. Marjane Satrapi, author of the graphic memoir The Complete Persepolis, took great pains in the creation of her panels in order to reinforce and emphasize her narrative, much like a novelist utilizes punctuation and paragraph breaks. Through her portrayal of darkness and lightness, Satrapi demonstrates that literary content influences, and is primary to, the form.
Persepolis 2: The Story of Return is anchored around how Marji is affected by the social injustice that occurred during the Islamic Revolution. Growing up as “a westerner in Iran and an Iranian in the West,” (Satrapi 274) changes and molds her into the young woman she is at the end of her journey. In this second chapter of Satrapis life she moves away from the comfort of Iran and finds a life in Vienna. Marji desires to find her purpose and identity during her brief time here and faces many battles with language barriers, people and herself. Marjis past from Iran haunts her and instills the idea that she needs to make something of herself while in Austria. Finding that Austria took her down a darker path where the light was scarcer and the
The sound of her son’s voice brought her to tears. She did not know how to respond to losing her child. She falls to the floor. She could barely move. Her exhaustion has taken over. Her body was drain of every bit of strength she could muster. She strains her neck looking up to Colet. He tries to help her up, but she did not want his assistance.
Slowly the snow drifted along the sidewalks and streets as he strolled down his own path. Following no particular way but his own, he traveled. Knowing not his destination but only his outcome. His ideas were changed, his beliefs were diminished to that of nothing and his perception of reality was turned upside down. All he knew now was himself and that of his tendencies. His own nature was the only real and raw thing that he was able to hang on to. A life of mistreatment and abuse, his last actions displayed his true feelings.
He patted her on her shoulder and said, “I'll be back in the morning to check on you and the baby.” As he gathered his bag, he said, “You’ve got some good folks to look after you. Now, don't go a jumping up too soon and trying to do too much. All that childbearing you’ve been doing, is taking its toll on your body,” he said gruffly. He then got a stern look on his face, and said, “After what happened today, I wouldn't recommend you having anymore
Her chest rose up and down with a quick rhythm as she breathed. To not wake her, he gently nuzzled his hands and eventually arms around her neck and knees to pick her up. Now, he knew exactly what she was capable of. He saw it himself, but she just seemed like a porcelain doll that if he dared to wake her, it would be something awful.
His fur was matted into clumps, which meant he hadn’t been groomed in a very long time. He was also very skinny and was probably starving to death by the second. Despite all of this he still had a glimmer of determination in his eyes as he braved the snowstorm. I can’t give up now. I’m so close to reaching the forest that it’s useless to turn back. He thought, imagining what it was like in the forest.
Jack and Taylor made their way deeper and deeper into the ridges of the Appalachian Mountains. Night came, and they had made a substantial amount of progress during their first day of hiking. They set up camp and tried to stay warm with blankets and a fire. The next morning, they woke up to a sheet of snow covering ...
It’s December of 1967, the snowfall had begun early this year, but whether it came in inches or buckets, I could hardly wait for weekends. Playing outside in the snow was awesome. When I was nine years old, a Saturday morning routine consisted of my older brother’s and I waking up to a warm bowl of oatmeal with a raisin smiley face, and thirty minutes of mom methodically layering us with snow pants and jackets, socks and boots, hats and mittens, and a scarf. One by one we rushed outside to begin our day. I remember waddling down sidewalks with mountains of snow on each side, fierce snowball fights with neighbors across the street, swirling angels’ wings in a fresh layer of snow, and cheers for finding the biggest icecycle. Our annual snowman displayed a warm hat and scarf, two branches from the maple tree in our front yard, raisins and a carrot for the eyes and nose. My brothers and I would stay outside for hours and hours, only coming inside when we were called to dinner or could no longer see in the dark. A delicious hot meal or a cup of hot chocolate would be waiting at the table after we left a mound of winter clothes at the door. My day always ended with mom tucking me in with a good book and a kiss good night, and I’d fall asleep dreaming of endless possibilities in the snow. Life was good, I didn’t want for anything; mom and dad anticipated my needs before I even knew them.
His feet weren't going where he told them too!!! It was cold, so cold, and even though he knew where he was going, an advantage over most, he couldn't shake off the morbid feeling of doom, no matter how hard he tried.
soiled coat, he made his way down to the house, where the limp body of