At 80 miles per hour, the 1968 candy apple red Corvette streaked effortlessly through the gentle curves near the edge of Texas hill country. It wasn’t a loud sound. Not loud enough to frighten him, but it was loud enough for him to take notice and fill him with anxiety. He immediately clenched the steering wheel a little harder as a wave of near panic shot up his spine. Then, just as quickly as it surfaced, it subsided. A slight, but unusual vibration began to emanate from somewhere within the heart of the car, or so it seemed. He glanced in the rear view mirror, saw there were no vehicles for as far as he could see, and decided that he would pull the car over to the shoulder. At that precise moment, the concrete ribbon twisted sharply to the right in a nasty hairpin curve. It snaked around in a desperate curl that’s caught him by complete surprise, and he stupidly mashed the brake pedal much too hard. The tires screamed noisily as they painted heavy streaks of hot black rubber on the narrow concrete roadway. The tail end of the car began to swing around, and instinctively he twisted the wheel to the left to steer into the skid. This action was now bringing him too close to the left-hand shoulder where large, protruding boulders threatened destruction to his car. Just a few feet beyond the rocks, the road dropped off into a deep; seemingly bottomless chasm. He cursed aloud for allowing the turn to surprise him. Then just before the unavoidable crash into the rocky shoulder, he took his foot off the brake, turned hard to the right and with earnest passion, stomped hard on the gas pedal. The broad tires of the Corvette screeched fiercely as they chewed hungrily at the dry cement. If the... ... middle of paper ... ...hew Banks looked around for the creature belonging to the voice and found her sitting lazily on a rickety cane backed chair behind the counter with a long filtered cigarette dangling loosely from her lips. She stood up with an audible effort. She was dressed in a large, flowered sleeveless smock that long ago had seen better days. The raw boned woman reminded him of the pictures he’d seen of Appalachian type families although right now he couldn’t recall whether it was in the Ozark Mountains or somewhere in Kentucky. Her deeply weathered skin clearly got that way from spending her youth in the blazing Texas sun. Matt credited the coarseness in her voice to untold packs of cigarettes she had smoked, and with more than just a nip or two of cheap whiskey. Wrinkles covered her face like a creased old buckskin coat tossed in a pile on the closet floor for too long.
3.?Against the dark background of the kitchen she stood up tall and angular, one hand drawing a quilted counterpane to her flat breast, while the other held a lamp. The light on a level with her chin, drew out of the darkness her puckered throat and the projecting wrist of the hand that clutched the quilt, and deepened fantastically the hollows and prominences of her high-boned face under its rings of crimping-pins. To Ethan, s...
		Mattie, the sole owner of a shop named "Jesus is Lord Used Tires", was accustomed to changing and rotating tires everyday. One day she received a customer who had driven over some cracked glass pieces on the side of the road. Mattie took standard procedures by lifting the car, taking out the tire, and finally dipping it to see if air bubbles would come up. "I'm sorry to tell you, hon, these are bad. I can tell you right now these aren't going to hold a patch. They're shot through." (page 40). Mattie was exceptionally nice to Taylor and told her to come inside and have some coffee. After drinking a cup of coffee and giving Turtle some juice Mattie came up with the idea that Taylor could work for her. Taylor being the one who doesn't like tires in the first place accepted the generous offer, but went almost nuts with the huge tire wall that surrounded her. Taylor was a good worker and didn't have any real complaints about her position, but she still had a fear of exploding tires. This fear was noticeable to Mattie. Mattie being the rough-tough but nice person, asked Taylor nicely to follow her, when suddenly Mattie threw a 5-gallon Jerry can at her. "Knocked the wind out of you, but it didn't kill you, right?" "That's twenty-eight pounds of water. Twenty-eight pounds of air is about what you put into a tire. When it hits you, that's what it feels like." (page 81).
Particularly, you can analyze that this quote contains a strong voice that can be portrayed as descriptive. She uses a handful of adjectives that foreshadow the character’s personalities.
“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 then moves on to describe each of the characters, and in doing so, their surroundings and how they fit in: "He was cold and wet, and the best part of the day had been used up anyway. He wiped his hands on the grass and let the pinto horse take him toward home. There was little enough comfort there. The house crouched dumb and blind on the high bench in the rain. Jack's horse stood droop-necked and dismal inside the strand of rope fence, but there wasn't any smoke coming from the damned stove (28)."
We witness the rude remark of a young nurse with the elderly woman’s initial offense, until “seeing where the voice came from she lowered her brow and veiled her eyes” (Morrison 7). This altercation is a model for the casual racism the characters experience throughout the story due to the prejudice of mid 20th century. By adding this seemingly insignificance dialogue into the early paragraphs, Morrison introduces the theme of racial tensions and its effect on the characters. This elderly woman, turning out to be Guitar’s grandmother, remarks to her grandson about the nurse’s lace of matters causing feelings of anger and injustice to stir within Guitar. This is juxtaposed with Pilate, Macon’s kin, as she puts on an ‘Aunt Jemima’ persona to free the men from jail (Morrison 206-207). These contrasting personalities represent Macon and Guitar’s response to racism, Guitar chooses to fight it directly through the Seven Days, while Macon elects to ignore its occurrence and play by the rules of the white man. Morrison utilizes foreshadowing throughout the novel to introduce the novel’s themes to the
... about the stench coming from Miss Emily’s home, the conflict begins. The neighbor, being of a younger generation, feels that the courts should do something about it, but the eighty-year-old Judge Stevens responds by saying, “Dammit sir, will you accuse a lady to her face of smelling bad?” The social context of the story and the different feeling of the characters make for a unique setting and atmosphere.
Filban said the home had a yard that was overgrown. “The trees and bushes were overgrown, and the house was dark,” Filban said. “And the windows were covered.” She and her sister slept in the front bedroom of the house. She remembers the bedroom having a large, floor-to-ceiling window. She said you could look out and see the wra...
I climbed upstairs, seething with a rage mixed with adolescent hormones and self pity. I reached my bedroom, threw back the drapes, approached the window from where the air conditioner was perched and jerked open the window. To my horror, the air conditioner tumbled backwards out the window, end over end and landed squarely on the roof of my fathers two day old Buick. The Buick roof crumpled like a piece of paper. Meanwhile, the air conditioner had bounced off the car and landed sharply on our paved driveway. The whole incident took no more than a few seconds and yet my mind played it back in horrific, slow motion. I surveyed the scene. My dad's Buick looked like somebody had taken a sledge hammer and swung a lethal blow to its middle. The air conditioner lay in a heap of scrap metal beside the car.
One moment the car in perfect condition, without so much as a scratch on its curving surface the next moment impact, sheer impact. Total destruction. In...
Her character is portrayed as being anxious through the author’s choice of dialogue in the form of diction, which is “waves of her [the mother] anxiety sink down into my belly”. The effect of this is to allow the readers to establish the emotions of the narrator, as well as establish an the uneasy tone of the passage, and how stressful and important the event of selling tobacco bales for her family is. Additionally, the narrator is seen to be uncomfortable in the setting she is present in. This is seen through the many dashes and pauses within her thoughts because she has no dialogue within this passage, “wishing- we- weren’t- here”, the dashes show her discomfort because the thought is extended, and thus more intense and heavy, wishing they could be somewhere else. The effect of the narrator’s comfort establishes her role within the family, the reason she and her sister does not have dialogue symbolizes that she has no voice within the family, as well as establishing hierarchy. The authors use dictation and writing conventions to develop the character of the narrator herself, as well as the mother. The narrator’s focus on each of her parents is additionally highlighted through
Logan was on his way home from an evening at the local bar. He and some friends had gone out to have a couple beers. As he sped down the road, he blinked vigorously to try to clear his vision. Although it was a perfectly clear summer night, Logan’s vision was blurred from the alcohol. “As long as I keep this car on my side of the road, I’ll be fine,” he thought to himself. He was doing a decent job of obtaining control over the vehicle, or so he thought. Only three miles from his country home, he became unaware of his position on the road as it began to curve. As he continued around the familiar curve in the road, a truck came out of nowhere at hit Logan’s small Toyota Camry head on. The big F-350 pickup truck was no comparison to the little
"Hey, be careful and don't do anything stupid," my dad said to me right before I hopped into Chase Miller's dark blue Chevy S-10 with a camper shell on the back. I looked at Chase and Tyler Becker and said, "Let's go camping." As Chase pushed down the gas pedal, a big cloud of black smoke shot out of the back of the truck and the smell of burning motor oil filled the cab.
A precautious individual, I began to pedal at a slightly increased rate. Still I didn't feel as though I was in any real danger, until the car flew past me, grazing my arm. An excessant shriek erupted from the car as it grinded to a halt at the coming stop sign. Then, to my greatest horror the white lights on the rear of the car ignited......the car was going in reverse.
Although told in an aloof and anonymous third-person, the narrativeis always shifting, almost imperceptibly, from an objective stance to less neutral observations which, because of their perspective or particular choice of words, appear to be those of Mrs. Kearney. (Miller,...