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short story analysis essay
grade 11 short stories analysis
short story essay analysis
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“What am I doing here?”, I whispered desperately.
I realized my weakness while trying to open my eyes. I rolled his gaze up beneath my closed lids and let go the bitten apple I was holding in my hand.
An endless space of alternating sleepiness, awakening, drifting, silence and darkness were wrapping me few moments ago. “What is happening to me?”, I wondered silently while shocked by my suddenly tilting universe. I tried to react with any movement just to give a signal of life, a scream for help but I simply couldn’t.
Something new and awkward was happening to me taking all my attention. Nevertheless, I tried hard to comfort myself by forcing in a simple sense that it will be all right. But, I couldn’t resist the undeniable feeling of my universe squeezing too much. A feeling that went for so long that I couldn’t remember what came before. A dreadful feeling that was continuously fed with an alarming wish to escape consuming my resistance and leaving me completely exhausted. I didn’t want to surrender, in a final attempt I kicked my legs out straight but nothing happened. I tried to stretch out, to escape to make the suffering stop and merge again with the universe I used to know.“Please stop!”, I closed my eyes firmly yet no sound came out. My mouth was firmly glued by thick layers of mud.… I had no choice but finally relenting.
Suddenly, an oily breeze blew in a faint rumbling sound. Slowly, the roars that started dim and faint grew louder and more gigantic. I slumped down staring to the skies helplessly trying to cling to the mud with a weak grasp. The wind swiftly howled ferociously. I felt the sound coming from my eyes.Responsively, I tilted my head to the side away from the wind. My face pinched in anguish feeling the p...
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...s lips in a horrible tone while waving with his bleeding knife in front of his companion’s eyes.
The sitting man slowly moved his hand towards the blade and held it. The tall man smiled and calmly said “And if you end up by killing him, you won’t be anything but being a tool in the hand of fate”
He just threw his advise and vanished as if he was an illusion leaving behind one single evidence of his subsistence - the dried goat’s blood over my face. The short man stayed there longer canvassing the blade in his hand by his eyes covered with alternating glimpse of hesitation and clouds of tenaciousness. I stayed on obnubilating in my shelter until he commenced moving away. Subconsciously, I found me propelling myself up and over with the world around me turning upside down. I felt so weak but my enthusiasm kept me persuading this deep wish of following him.
Gottlieb observes his men from a distance, holding on tightly to his sword. He grips it tightly, feeling a presence lurking behind him, and turns with his maroon eyes aflame, knocking an unknown man to the ground. “Who are you!” he yells, climbing on top of him.
If the storm had lulled at little at sunset, it made up now for lost time. Strong and horizontal thundered the current of the wind from north-west to south-east; it brought rain like spray, and sometimes, a sharp hail like shot; it was cold and pierced me to the vitals. I bent my head to meet it, but it beat me back. My heart did not fail at all in this conflict, I only wished that I had wings and could ascend the gale, spread and repose my pinions on
"...Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded--with what caution--with what foresight--with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him."
bites his thumb at, he loses his courage. "No sir I do not bite my
“You must not tell anyone,” my mother said, “what I am about to tell you” (Kingston, 1507). Within the stories “The Swimmer” by John Cheever, “Woman Hollering Creek” by Sandra Cisneros, and “No Name Woman” by Maxine Hong Kingston all revolve are the stifling of voices and lose of identity. In “The Swimmer” the main character Neddy loses his identity while he swims across “Lucinda’s River.” Cleofilas in “Woman Hollering Creek” has her voice stifled by her abusive husband. While the protagonist in “No Name Woman” has her voice stifled by her mother about certain subjects. Within these stories both men and women struggle because of who they surround themselves with that stifle their voices and lose identity.
He charges his blade, and all of a sudden, Peter stares death right in the face.
...o scream, the pain to great to hold back any longer. The scream was mute, a silent calling into the world of pain, a mute scream of nothingness called out into a world without sound, only deft ears could hear and none were around. A gnawing thirst started, begging him to drink and drown out the parched feeling in him. He glanced up at his mirror self so high above. Why was he laying on the ceiling? What was the world upside down. Everything no longer made sense. How many days did he lay dead? Dying? Was he dead? A glace at the wall clock told him nothing, the numbers danced. With great mental effort he pushed his cold tired body up. He felt so numb, so distant and disconnected. The clock said 8 minutes had passed, 8 minutes from when he first danced with the razor. Tick TOCK Tick..ock... Nothing, forever more. He finally found OBLIVION. and more importantly, Peace.
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...
Tugging harshly on the knotted locks caught in my fingers, I leaned in close to whisper in his ear.
“Wait Buddy, I have to ask you a few questions about the knife we found in your stomach.” said the Sheriff.
The earth is silent. So silent I can hear my pulsing heartbeat. The clouds are still, as if they’re waiting for me to move. The trees are frozen, with dead leaves fluttering towards the ground. The wind softly sweeps my hair across my shoulders and hits my neck, leaving goosebumps between my shoulder blades. I am suddenly grabbed. A pain ripples through my arm as the claws dig their way through my skin. I look up to the monster. Its horrifying face freezes me. How can something be so frightening? It growls and tosses me over its shoulder, running into the darkness. My head hits a passing tree and I am thrown into an unconscious state.
Now I needed to figure out where I was and why I felt numb and tired. Slowly I open my eyes to blurry, fragmented shadows dancing on the walls. The ringing in my ears muffles the sound of voices making it impossible to decipher anything. A light swings above me as the room begins to shake. I see the shadows grip onto something as if they would tumble over. The shaking soon subsides and the shadows begin on there way.
I woke to total disorientation that night, not sure if I'd even slept at all, reaching out in distress for a hand-hold, arms up and out for anything I could grab on to. My fingers flexed to breaking, only to curl back in convulsively, like a pulse, echoing my pounding heart. Should I go forward? Am I headed back, somewhere? Where am I going?
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 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.