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Voices of women in literature
Depiction of women in literature
Voices of women in literature
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Sisters Reunited A bird whistled. Agnes followed the sound. She was stuck in the woods and her only hope was the bird. She would have laughed at herself if she wasn’t so worried about being lost. The mischievous bird with dark brown feathers whistled louder. Agnes sobbed as tears of fear began to run down her cheeks, “Please lead me home!” Agnes was a free spirited child. She was just over five feet tall with a slender appearance. Her auburn hair and silky bright yellow sundress flowed in the summer breeze that made the thick green leaves on the trees sway in the wind. Her eyes were a deep olive green and she had freckles all over rosy red cheeks. Agnes followed the bird farther as it led her to a river. A ten foot wide gap of raging, wild …show more content…
There had been a search warrant for months, but no one ever found any evidence so the case was closed. Now years later Agnes was facing her best friend she’d never thought she’d see again. Agnes finally spoke up, “Your name is Mary, not Ann Marie.” Mary looked confused. “It’s me your sister, Agnes. Do you remember me?” Mary looked still clueless for a minute. Then Mary’s aqua blue eyes grew wide as she leaped into the water. Mary struggled to swim across the river with the rapids flowing vigorously. Finally, she reached the other side as Agnes helped her out of the water with tears streaming down her face. The two girls couldn’t believe they were standing face to face with each other once again. Then suddenly Mary started to tremble. “What’s wrong?” Agnes asked with concern.. Mary knew the schedule of when the kidnapper comes and leaves. He would be back …show more content…
She had to get her sister out of these dreaded woods right away. Then the soft whistle of the bird came from above her head. The bird led her to find her sister; it had to lead her home now. The bird whistled even louder now. Agnes knew what she needed to do. “Follow me!” Agnes yelled to Mary. The two girls followed a narrow path when suddenly Agnes recognized they were on their way home. Agnes sighed in relief. Suddenly, Agnes heard a deafening scream come from her sister 's mouth. Mary’s tiny feet dug into the ground as a heavy man was forcefully dragged her away; it was the kidnapper. The kidnapper must have weighed close to 250 pounds. He had a jet black ski mask over his face with a black sweatshirt, pants, and shoes. His body appeared disproportionate as his legs were stubby and his torso was lengthy. Agnes’ mind was racing. She needed to save her sister, but how? Agnes looked around frantically when suddenly she saw the bird perched on a pointy, coarse, medium sized rock. Agnes heaved the rock and delivered a strong hit to the kidnapper’s head. The kidnapper glanced up at Agnes, but then his black beady eyes started to spin as he fell to the ground. Mary broke free of his grasp as he now laid on the ground unconscious. The girls made eye contact and then in a split second they began sprinting down the narrow path. The whistling bird soared above them as the girls ran close behind it. Then they came to a clearing where they saw a spacious
We are told of Phoenix?s journey into the woods on a cold December morning. Although we are know that she is traveling through woodland, the author refrains from telling us the reason for this journey. In the midst of Phoenix?s travels, Eudora Welty describes the scene: ?Deep, deep the road went down between the high green-colored banks. Overhead the live-oaks met, and it was as dark as a cave? (Welty 55). The gloomy darkness that the author has created to surround Phoenix in this scene is quite a contrast to the small Negro woman?s positive outlook; Phoenix is a very determined person who is full of life. As Phoenix begins to walk down the dark path, a black dog approaches her from a patch of weeds near a ditch. As he comes toward her, Phoenix is startled and compelled to defend herself: ?she only hit him a little with her cane. Over she went in the ditch, like a little puff of milk-weed? (55). Here, the author contrasts the main character?s strong will with her small, frail phys...
“Why? Why? The girl gasped, as they lunged down the old deer trail. Behind them they could hear shots, and glass breaking as the men came to the bogged car” (Hood 414). It is at this precise moment Hood’s writing shows the granddaughter’s depletion of her naïve nature, becoming aware of the brutality of the world around her and that it will influence her future. Continuing, Hood doesn’t stop with the men destroying the car; Hood elucidated the plight of the two women; describing how the man shot a fish and continued shooting the fish until it sank, outlining the malicious nature of the pair and their disregard for life and how the granddaughter was the fish had it not been for the grandmother’s past influencing how she lived her life. In that moment, the granddaughter becomes aware of the burden she will bear and how it has influenced her life.
She lifted the hat one more time and set it down slowly on her head. Two wings of gray hair protruded on either side of her florid face, but her eyes, sky-blue, were as innocent as they must have been when she was ten. Where it not that she was a widow who had struggled fiercely to feed and clothe and put him through school and who was supporting him still, “until he got on his feet,” she might have been a little girl that he had to take to town.
Looking out across the stone-paved road, she watched the neighborhood inside the coffee colored fence. It was very similar to hers, containing multiple cookie-cutter homes and an assortment of businesses, except no one was there was her color and no one in her neighborhood was their color. All of them had chocolate skin with eyes and hair that were all equally dark. Across the road to her right, a yellow fence contained honey colored people. She enjoyed seeing all the little, squinted almond eyes, much smaller then her own, which were wide set and round. One little, sunshine colored boy with dark straight hair raised his arm and waved his hand, but before she could do the same back her father called her into the house. His lips were pressed and his body was rigid, the blue of his eyes making direct contact with her
How a death squad came into her house one night and took her family, except her because she hid in the closet like her father told her too. Later she escaped to the neighbor’s house, where the neighbors took her and arranged people to sneak her out the country. Because her father was an editor her father thought that they had so much influence that they would be safe. She never saw her family again. They disappeared.
There is this teenage girl name Leah who lived in New York, she was ending her first year of high school as a freshman at Flushing High School. On the last month of classes around June she was hanging around with her best friend Henry. After class, they would hang out together and go to the city to explore and waste time, but there was one thing Leah had to tell Henry, her family had to move to Mexico because her parents thought that they will have a better life. So Leah had to leave with them. She told Henry about her moving with her family to Mexico, so they decided to go out to places before she left. They went out to the theatres, walked around the city, and get something to eat like Burger Kings or McDonalds. It was soon Leah had to leave,
He just turned and left without a word. I touched Lennie’s grave. The rough touch of the wood deflecting to my fingers. I walked back to the ranch. Everyone was asleep. I wanted to run away tomorrow but I couldn’t let this chance pass up. It also prevented any chance of Candy following me. I tiptoed out of the room and went straight to the woods. I made sure to mix myself in with the shadows of the trees. I saw the river and It felt like I did it...until I felt something grab me by my neck. I quickly got flipped over and pushed to the ground.
It was a sunny day with a sweet aroma of blooming tulips. The sunlight glittered on their faces as the breeze rattled the chestnut tree above. There was an occasional giggle as they talked, but there was also a hint of discomfort and awkwardness between them as they peeked at each other’s face and recoiled when the other looked up. When the bell rang twice, I saw them say goodbye and walk away from each other. In the darkness of the crowd, a glimmer flashed into my eyes from Hannah’s cheeks.
The first words of the book convey a parrot that spoke “a language which nobody understood”, and Edna’s husband “had the privilege of quitting [the parrot] when [it] ceased to be entertaining” (11). In the same light, Edna speaks of and wishes for a life that nobody apprehends. Her husband also possesses the moral, objectifying liberty to quiet Edna when she did not provide leisure, as one can turn off a song once it grows into a tedious nuisance. A further exemplification comes about when Old Monsieur Farival, a man, “insisted upon having [a] bird. . . consigned to regions of darkness” due to its shrieking outside (42). As a repercussion, the parrot “offered no more interruption to the entertainment” (42). The recurrence of the parrot evolves Edna’s state of stagnance as a consequence of being put to a halt by others despite her endeavor of breaking free. Ultimately, as Edna edges out towards the water to her death, a bird is depicted with “a broken wing” and is “beating the air above, reeling, fluttering, circling disabled down, down to the water” (159). This recurrence parallels the beaten bird to a suffering Edna. She has “despondency [that] came upon her there in the wakeful night” that never alleviates (159). Dejection is put to action when Edna wanders out into the water, “the shore. . . far behind her” (159). Motif of birds articulates her suicide by its association with
Arriving at Lacey’s house I walk to the backdoor letting myself into the house. Lacey was putting on tanning lotion in the kitchen, “Lacey,” I called to her, “my mom wants me to pick up snacks for the beach, do you want to go into town with me?”, “Sure,” she replied, “do you mind if my cousin comes with us?”, “Of course I don’t mind,“ I answered, “but we have to get moving, my dad only left me the car to use ‘til noon.”
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
Harwood’s poem Barn Owl, expertly conveys the poem with emotion and tells the story of a young girl losing her childish innocence by rebelling against her father and killing a barn owl. Using a variety of literary techniques, the poem has the ability to provide the audience a visual image of the scene. Expressed in great detail, the themes of innocence, death and rebelling against authority within the poem offer the audience another intriguing poem written by Gwen
Sylvia was a 9 year old “nature girl” who met a charming ornithologist hunter on a mission to find the allusive white heron. Sylvia was about 8 years old when she moved with her grandmother from the city to a farm, “a good change for a little maid who had tried to grow for eight years in a crowded manufacturing town, but, as for Sylvia herself, it seemed as if she never had been alive at all before she came to live at the farm.” (Jewett, 1884, 1914, qtd in McQuade, et.al., 1999, p. 1641). Sylvia finds the secret, the white heron. Instead of telling the young hunter, she keeps the secret, because in her mind nature is more powerful than her feelings for “the enemy.”
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.
It was late and the house was silent. Tom came home from work late a lot, so the silence was expected. By this time, Marie was in bed and his dinner, the evening newspaper, and the mail were waiting for him on the table. Tom closed the door and walked down the short hall to the kitchen. Everything was set on the table. He quickly looked through the mail and went over to the bin to throw an unwanted advertisement away. Tom noticed a crumpled piece of his wife’s stationary inside. He picked it up and opened it.