English Short Story Reading Instructor: Nicole Liu Group members: Alex, Michelle, Rose, Franklin
For 108-2 Class of Reading Short Stories 2020-06-08 By Ai-ping Liu
For those who are reading the lines: Oh, you can’t imagine how time flies Remember we met for the first time?
108-2 Reading Short Stories was your cup of tea Cause you told me you liked stories; you liked me Let’s get started with 3 very short, short, stories A warm-up, a peek at the bottom of their heart Searching for it, struggling through it Savoring, sickening, or even suiciding for it
Of course you needed a bit of time to digest all For vocab stood just in the way to make you fall
“Read on,” I said, smiling and assuring “Enlighten yourself through reading As long as you do a bit of thinking Do think of it even when you’re eating” It’s said that epiphany is true No one can easily go through Get ur reading done for a clue
Sammy would like to be an unsuspected hero Haunted House shelters love and no sorrow Open the door for the poor Cat in the Rain Reach the bazaar; Araby isn’t really that far Tell-Tale Heart is to listen to your own heart
Shameful Affair is more than just a summer fling To Mildred, to be or not to be is always haunting Omelas or Lottery will be everlasting? Replay the time machine to find Braling It can also take you to Venus of storming Emily and her rose won’t be forgotten Short stories thrive in our lively garden
Contents Alex Profile
1
Creative Writing – Marionettes, Inc. Prequel
2
A Rose for Emily AU 9
5
Darkness Descending
9
Narrative Writing – A&P
23
A rose for Emily
26
Analytical 6/4 (rewritten)-Chosen story: A Rose for Emily.
32
Michelle My Thoughts About the Course
37
Analytical Writing 1
38
Narrative Writing 1
42
Narrative Writing 2
45
Creative Writing 1
49
Creative Writing 2
52
Rose Introduction
56
Analytical writing for Araby
57
Analytical writing for Emily and Mildred
60
Similar Experience in My Life
63
The Framework in My Life
65
Fred Evelyn’ Mind
67
Franklin Why is the fraud raising up these day?
73
Bird with No Winds
75
My Childhood Memory
77
Araby Analytical Writing
80
Araby Poem
82
Poem for the “ A Rose for Emily”
83
ALEX
My profile – 劉佳柔 Alex I am a girl who love all kind of fictions, especially fantasy and sci – fi. I started reading Harry Potter and The Philosopher Stone since I was 11. Since then, reading becomes my favorite pastime. For a long while, young adult (YA) novel had been my first - choice book of all time. These days, I read Merlin BBC fanfiction for quick read because I’ve been busier. My favorite book is City of Heavenly Fire in the Mortal Instrument series by the New York Times best selling author, Cassandra Clare. My favorite TV show is Merlin BBC, Sherlock, and Doctor Who. –
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Creative Writing – Marionettes, Inc. Prequel 107801013 劉佳柔 instructor: 劉愛萍 It was extremely dark here. The air smells weird, like plastic, the word unbiddenly came to my mind. Somewhere from the left, a beam of light filtered in, revealing rows of figures standing silently, motionlessly. The whole room was basking in the eerie silence, let alone my own sound of breathing. Where was I? I turned toward the nearest silent figure. In the dim light, I could make out the slight build of a little girl, slender and pale. I reached out, fingertips brushing her cheeks, leaving a trail of warmth. The thing/girl was still unmoving. I pressed my hand to her chest, feeling the fluttering of her heartbeat vibrated mechanically. An unknown fear began to spread from my chest to my whole body. This was unnatural. What’s going on? Why was I here? Who was I? -2-
Suddenly, there was some noise, coming from the far side of the room, like footsteps, inching closer. I squeezed my eyes shut and straightened my posture, willing my pounding heart not to give me away. I didn’t know if the newcomer was friendly or not. My whole being was reduced to the sound of the footsteps, and the tick – tick – tick – tick of my heart. “D – 14 is just around here somewhere…, umm, aha, I found it!” Acclaimed an excited voice. Footsteps stopped in front of me. Under my lashes, the silhouette of an imposing woman hovered over me. I glimpsed a flash of gold. Before I could react, the world went dark. I was in the dark when I came to. A zipping sound, then light was pouring into my eyes. Standing in front of me, a woman with a nametag, Kelly, it said, was reading some instructions to the blonde woman next to her, a not so genuine smile piling high on her face. The blonde woman wasn’t listening though; she was busy studying me, her face eager. Something almost like hunger crossed her -3-
feature, and disappeared quickly. Kelly turned to look at me then, and said “Mrs. Smith, meet Nettie Two, the synth you required.�
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Creative Writing – A Rose for Emily AU
A rose for Emily and the song “Call Me Maybe” fusion. High school AU.
Emily was very rich since her father owned the entire oil industry in Jefferson. She was a brand addict, like everything she owned, from clothes to cellphone to even a pencil case, were all from some astonishingly big brands like Michael Kors, Hermes, Prada, etc. As a daddy’s girl, she was also well protected, what with he threatened any boys that if they dare to lift one finger on her, he’d skin them alive. So Emily, lonely and friendless, had only her father and all his wealth to accompany her. The only friend she might have had was her neighbor, a boy her age, Tobe whose father worked for Emily’s father at a time in the past. -5-
Because of her well protected status, Emily was kind of proud and haughty. Everywhere she went, students nodded at her with respects, or fled from her presence. No one got close to her. She had two girls, Lilly, and Sarah who shadowed her everywhere, parting the road for her to walk, bullying other nerds to submission to do her homework for her, and talking about partying and makeup to pass time. Though she suspected the real reasons they stick with her was because they wanted to be along on the ride, wanted to be seen interacting with rich people. Therefore, no one really knew her, that under all the glamorous appearance, was a secretly passionate girl, a confused girl who only desired to be loved. When her father died last year, she didn’t shed a tear. It seemed that she was numb to the core. Everything she did, she did it monotonically, unfeelingly bullying her way through. Everywhere she went, people whispered that she had become ruthless, but they still didn’t speak out, saying that they pitied her. Her only haven was -6-
Tobe, the last human who treated her as if she wasn’t a fragile being. And then, there came Homer Barron, a transfer from Jefferson Academy, who rose to the star quarterback in Jefferson City High. People loved his humor and his careless posture, his quirk and his silly blinding smile. People always loved new thing, Emily included, but she had to admit it reluctantly. When Homer smiled at her that day at the dais when she stumbled into him, she was a goner. Emily knew that she had the riches and her beauty at her disposal, and now with her father gone, she could do as she well please. She recalled that there was a talent show the next week, and she was quite compatible with instruments. She figured that at the talent show, when she addressed to the whole student body that she wanted to contribute a love song to Homer, he would immediately be quite taken with her. She then bought tiny heart – shaped cards and sprinkled some sparkling powder and expensive perfume on them, intending to write to him with love poem and flatteries. She -7-
decided against jolting down her name in the end, though, because she thought that it would be the more romantic when Homer realized that she was the one. The talent show came and went, the boyfriend operation ended, she waited next to Homer’s locker with Tobe and Lilly and Sarah in tow. Homer emerged from the assembly, hair tousled and face sweaty, and he stopped in front of her. Emily’s heart rate picked up. This was it, the time he finally declared his love for her and they would go hand in hand into the sunset. Homer reached out, in his hand a piece of paper, and delivered it to Tobe, over her shoulder. Confused, she leaned down and read the paper with Tobe. On it, there were three words and a phone number. Call me maybe. #202-555-0119
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Creative Writing (Incomplete) – Darkness Descending
Gothic elements and combination of some snippets of plot from A Shameful Affair. Also, there might or might not be a reference from the famous story The BlueBeard.
Mildred leaned on the window pane, looking out at the garden, mood bitter. Why was she the one being scolded to be a proper young lady and being courteous to others, while all she ever wanted was to stay at her room and read all day every day, or go horse riding with her father. Come to think of it, she hadn’t gone riding with him for a whole year. She kind of missed his company, his laughter and his humorous comments when she scraped her knees or something, most of the time successfully deflected her attention to her hurting bruises. Instead, she was to be crowned heir of Angria the next day. -9-
She was going to wear those awfully tight white dress, and those delicate high heels. And after the coronation, there would be endless lists of guests to entertain, and those dull balls filled with pig – headed boys… If she kept on this train of thoughts, she’s going to either vomit or explode right on the spot. Suddenly, there were some movements out there, a shadow of some kind, something with wings, obscuring the clear night for just a moment. “Mildred, dinner’s ready.” She turned and peered over her shoulder at her bedroom door, and when she turned back to the window, the shadow was long gone. “Do you swear allegiance to Angria, now and for as long as you shall live?” “I do, sire.” “Now being of age and heir apparent, from henceforth, you shall be Crown Princess of Angria.” King William smiled down at Mildred - 10 -
kindly and she rose to her feet as the room erupted into applause.
Now a crown princess, she felt the weight of it and her duties to her country weighing her down a bit, a solemn, sacred bond formed between her and Angria, her country, her home. She moved forward to greet the first few guests who were trying to impress her or gauge her reaction to being crowned. She came face to face with the boy with familiar blue – green eyes. She cursed inwardly. “Hi, Frederick Evelyn, prince of Elbonia, it has been a long time. And we are honored that you would be willing to attend to our little ceremony. Why you would be coming is beyond me.” The last sentence she muttered under her breath. Stupid Frederick, coming here to ruin her day. She remembered - 11 -
herself and ganglier Fred, running around bringing troubles and more work for their servants. The tears she had shed when her little sister Ginny drowned because she and Fred forgot to look behind them, not knowing when they were having fun, Ginny tried to follow them and fell into a river. She never made it out. Now, Frederick had to come here, all windswept midnight hair, blank exterior, handsome feature to remind her of the accident and the shame she still harbored. “It’s sure been a long time. Still the same rude person, I see.” Frederick smirked, eyes as cool as spring. “Wow, I feel so welcome now.” Then he swiftly brushed past her. Next to her, her mother gave her a disapproving look. She was dutifully talking to some distant relative when she sensed a presence behind her. She turned. There, leaning under the archway was a boy she hadn’t seen before. He was dressed all in black, giving an air of mystery; his silvery hair was nearly white, glittering - 12 -
gloriously in the glare of the light from outside; his eyes though, were an unnervingly jet black, almost unnatural. His eyes were fixed on her unblinkingly, scrutinizing her as if she was an exotic creature. His eyes roamed from her heels and up to her hair, a glint of hunger flashed across his eyes and disappeared completely when they locked eyes across the room. She shrugged it off, thinking that it must be a trick of light, because when she glanced at his feet, there was something odd to his shadow, like a pair of wings protruding behind his back just for an instant. When she dragged her gaze upward again, he was standing right in front of her. He held out his hand, an invitation, and asked, “May I have this dance?� His voice was syrupy smooth, his dark eyes attentive on her. She nodded, feeling suddenly drunk on the attention. No one had ever looked at her like that, like she was a wonder to the world, the brightest star in the dark. They went onto the dance floor, hands in hands, and soon they were swaying to the - 13 -
music. She tried to think of something, “I haven’t seen you before. You’re not from here, are you?” He replied, mouth curling up in the corner, revealing a faint imprint of a dimple, “No. I am from faraway, a prince in my own kingdom.” “What’s your name, may I ask? And why would you come here if you were really faraway?” She tried to recall her mother’s words, trying to be polite and all that. “My name, is Levi, my lady.” He pulled her closer, and whispered into her right ear, “I came here because I had heard that there was this princess, beautiful as red – petal blossom, kind and intelligent as the goddess Athena, was going to be crown princess. Of course I wanted to come and witness the true miracle.” Mildred extracted her hands from his neck, a bit flustered, and smiled at him shyly. “I am sure this is your pick - up line for every girl - 14 -
you met.” “Oh, it’s not working, is it?” He smiled, teeth gleaming under the chandelier, “Well, it’s still worth a try. You know I only have my eyes on you.” A slight shiver that had nothing to do with the mild weather wracked through her suddenly. A prickle of unease started to build, but she didn’t quite understand why she felt that way. She masked it with a tilt of her head, and a gulp of ice - cold champagne. When she looked another way, her gaze clashed with the said enemy. Fred. His expression was unreadable, blue – green eyes cold and hard, but there was something there that made her feel cold and hot all over. She tried to look for the same carefree boy she had known in him, but came up empty – handed. Gone was the little boy with great adventure to share with, instead a stranger stood in his place. Fred scowled when she stared back at him too long, he then turned, stepped into the crowd. - 15 -
She turned back toward Levi, a question about his last name died on the tip of her tongue. He was nowhere to be found. Only, in his wake, a rose petal lay in the glass he had drunk from. Mildred sat on the bench in the garden under the night sky well past midnight. She couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t bear to sleep, because her recurring nightmare had started again. The dream started out as the same as before. She was walking down the corridor which she had never even seen of before. Every creak she’d made frightened her, every shadow that changed in the flickering light from her lantern made her gasp. She heard a slight cry from the other side of a door. She stopped in front of it, and turned the door knob as quietly as she could. A powerful rotten and rusty smell rushed toward her, she staggered. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she made out that it was a dungeon of some sort. Lying hazardously on the ground, were strewn of broken bodies, arms and torsos twisted this way and that. - 16 -
She reeled back, trying to escape this madness, and bumped into something unceremoniously. She looked up slowly, shaking like a leave, from a pair of combat boots to the black coat. Behind his back, a pair of black wings stained with blood sprouting proudly in the dim light. She stared up into the face of Levi. His irises were swallowed up by total darkness. There was a smear of blood on his glistening lips. Levi, Leviathan, prince of Hell.
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She was pulled back to the reality when someone shook her shoulder gently. She focused onto the person kneeling in front of her. Fred’s face swam into focus. “Mil, Are you alright?” Concern hidden behind his guarded eyes, he touched her elbow with the tip of his finger. Childhood nickname sprang from his mouth almost naturally. “Oh, I am alright. Just couldn’t sleep.” She murmured, and stood up. She felt suddenly awkward, not really knowing where she stood anymore. “If you’ll excuse me, I am off to bed.” “Wait, please, would you just stop for a moment?” There was an undercurrent of urgency laced in his voice. She hesitated. “I just want to ask you, why did you hate me all of a sudden?” Definitely not sadness she had heard in his words. Something inside her broke. She whirled around, couldn’t stifle the urge, and lashed out. “Already forgot my sister, Ginny?” They both flinched at the name. “We killed her, Frederick Evelyn! If we - 18 -
hadn’t been so engrossed in our little game of hide and seek, we would have noticed her following us. Sorry to tell you that even though you have moved on, I haven’t! I could still remember her smile when we played capture the flag with neighbors, she did well enough on her own. Oh, and that time with neighboring boy who had pulled her ponytail, she screeched until the boy begged for forgiveness.” She took a breath, and poked his chest with her fingers. “We killed her! Frederick, we killed her!” She finally registered that during her rant, she had closed the distance between them, and now, only her hand was the barrier between them, digging into her side. She tried to back away, her courage dissipating as quickly as her flaring temper. However, her wrist was encased in Fred’s vise like grip. There was something fragile in his eyes, his gaze intense on her. The air was charged with electricity, of a different kind, but of what she couldn’t put her finger on it. - 19 -
Then, not knowing how exactly, she was pushed into the wall and Fred’s lips descended on hers. The kiss started out slow, but desperate, as if he was holding himself back. He held her gently, one hand playing with a lock of her hair, the other on the wall next to her head. He kissed her so deeply, thoroughly, left her wanting for more. She kissed him back with equal fervor. Things happened so quickly that left her head spinning, she was drunk the kiss. He kept muttering “I am so sorry” every time they broke away to breathe. Sorry for what, Mildred’s mind decided to file this away for later. An image of her sister suddenly appeared behind her eyelids. With difficulty, she pushed him back, the force so strong that he hit the opposite wall. She staggered to her feet, wobblingly ran back into the house. She kept seeing Fred in her head the whole night, his expression marred with desire and shock. She became a bundle of nerves and confusion, so sleep didn’t - 20 -
come for her until the sun was high in the sky. Leviathan sat on his throne, hands tapping the armrest idly. He was bored out of his mind. The girl, Mildred, still hadn’t come to him, even though he had hinted at her in her dreams that he was waiting for her in the old abandoned mansion Mildred and her family had resided before her sister’s death. Well, it was just a matter of time. He called out, “Ginny, come over and bring me some tea, will you?” A girl about fifteen came out of the kitchen and brought a teapot with her. She set the tray down on the little table next to his throne and asked “Is my sister coming?” Leviathan tugged at the teapot handle and swiftly poured some tea into a cup. He picked up the cup and studied the delicate pattern of the rim. Eyes not leaving it, he answered smoothly, “of course. I have been waiting for her all these years, plaguing her dreams, - 21 -
whispering into her consciousness. She will be here when the time comes.” Ginny huffed, her blue eyes dull and lifeless, lips curling into a cruel smile. “Well then, let her come. Let me avenge her and she will suffer the pain of letting me die in the first place. I want to see her kneeling in front of me, eyes filled with tears, begging for mercy.” Leviathan turned his dark eyes to her, and smiled, “impatient, are we? But we need to free my brothers first.” Ginny conceded, whispered an “of course” and shared a secretive look with him. In the palace far from here, Mildred woke with a start with scream caught in her throat and sweat dampening her hair.
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Narrative Writing – A&P Born in a fairly conservative family, I was really reserved for my age or can be described as innocent. I remembered the time when I was in England, upon staying in an international language school, I happened to room with a Spanish girl, who was 15 and had a boyfriend. The first time I saw them snogging passionately on the sofa, hands all over each other, I was terrified to the core. In my eleven – year – old mind, I was looking at something that was obscene, something that was not meant for our eyes. Therefore, trying to act like nothing was amiss, I ran all the way from the party to our dorm room. Every time my roommates came back with her boyfriend in tow, I tried to stay away. Looking back, I felt every kind of embarrassment, since kissing in public is quite prevalent in other countries. I kind of lost the chance to bond with people when I ran away. - 23 -
However, as I grew older, I had my fair share of story. There was that time in the US, Seattle, when my friends and I walked on a bus, and suddenly was blocked by a guy about 20 something who was kind of good looking, with dark hair curling around his nape, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. We became goners immediately. I remembered that he kept looking at our way from his seat in the front of the bus, and that set us on fire and made us all giddy, trying to gauge who had his attention. Finally, when we left the bus, my friend, Deedee grabbed a slip of paper out of her bag and gave us all to see. On it, there wrote, “Call me”, with the guy’s phone number and his Instagram username. I was a little bit disappointed, since that I thought maybe I had some chance after all with that mysterious guy, my age, 16, closer to his. His way of slipping the slip of paper into other’s bag was so cool, just like the story plot in a movie. Now, I am just utterly creeped out. That this twenty something guy was interested in hitting on a thirteen – year – old - 24 -
Taiwanese girl was really bizarre, and the way he slipped the paper in was totally not cool at all. What if he was a pick pocket, or a rapist ‌
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Narrative Writing – A rose for Emily I used the names of characters in books instead of my friends’ real names. This is the beginning of their EPIC BROMANCE. (Merls is the nickname of Merritt) I remembered the first time I set my eyes on Merritt Emerson, I was mesmerized. His dark hair was in contrast with his pale skin, stormy blue eyes framed by inky lashes. His was lean and tall, though he still managed to curl up into a ball when sitting down, giving an impression of a baby rabbit; and when he cocked his head in confusion, his gesture appeared almost childlike. He was also gentle and caring, always thinking of the others in need of assistant. Almost everyone fell in love with this precious cinnamon roll at first sight, wanting to protect him from any harm. And then, there was Archer Penn, my friend from high school. He was loud and arrogant, but the boy had goodness in him. His father - 26 -
was kind of a controlling figure in his life, always demanding him to be on his behavior and never let his guard down. Archer had lost his mother when he was eleven, his gentleness had all been bottled up and tucked away. However, if you squint, you’ll maybe see past those electric blue eyes, dazzling smile, sun – kissed golden hair, and proud stance. You’ll see that there was kindness and nobility and a raw vulnerability underneath, a kind of desire to be loved by family, what with his sister ran away seven years ago and his father inability to show affection. I had initially thought that Merritt and Archer would probably get on fine so of we go, me and Merritt went to Archer’s birthday party on that night, five years ago. There was a lot of hugs and handshakes and gifts delivering, and then we started playing games or mingling. I was back from the restroom when I heard an angry shout. “You ruined my shirt, on my birthday!” There came Merls’s rambling. “I am really sorry. How much is it? I - 27 -
can uh, save up some of my allowance to pay for it.” He looked tearful all of the sudden, and I remembered his mom, his only parent was sick for a while, not being able to work. “How dare you, you little, …” Archer sneered, hands balled in a fist, and strolled toward Merls. “You have no idea how much of this cost, do you?” I stood between them quickly, trying to ease the tension, and steered Merls away. I shot Archer my best scowl, but my interference seemed not to be working. Sweet, dear, Merls shocked me out of the core with his reply. “No. But I reckon that you don’t have to pay for that either, cause your daddy will just take out his cash, and ta da, everything is solved. Also, I wonder, with this big ego of yours, how can you still walk through the door?” His blue eyes, alight with anger was almost spitting dagger. People started to gather around them to watch the shouting - 28 -
match, but they didn’t seem to notice. I moved to stand behind Archer, trying to yell at him to stop. He didn’t. There was silence, high-strung tension curling in the air, like the calmness before a storm. Archer seemed to be warring with himself, or perhaps thinking of a comeback, and suddenly thrust out “I wonder, do you know who I am, you idiot. I’m not your friend, you can’t talk to me this way.” “Oh, I know who you are.” Merls, reflex quick as an arrow, spit out cheekily, “you’re a prat.” Another silence from Archer. I could almost see the clogs working in his head, trying to wring some remarks out. And then, a laugh burst out, a genuine, heartfelt smile blossomed on his face. He grabbed hold of Merls’s hand and shook it, chuckling. “Only you, Melvin, only you would dare to call me a prat.” Merls, dumbfounded, brows furrowed in confusion, answered - 29 -
automatically, “Merritt.” Archer corrected himself, “Merritt, it is.” And huffed a laugh at Merls’s confused expression. Merls face then broke out into a wide grin, eyes crinkling with mirth. He stuck out his other hand, the one Archer wasn’t holding, and patted Archer’s arm as if they were old friends. “I forgive you.” On other occasions, we’d hear their laughter and their fond “prat” and “idiot” comments flowing around daily. We became familiar with their adorable banter soon after. Every time Archer glanced at Merls’s smile, his own smile was there, content and private, that I had to look away. Archer was quick for his temper to flare, and Merls’s presence could always calm him down. The most unlikely pair became the best of friends in an instant. To say that they didn’t get on the first time was an understatement, however, when they did, they got on like a house on fire.
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Analytical 6/4 (rewritten) Chosen story: A Rose for Emily. To the author, William Faulkner, writing A Rose for Emily was not all about writing fiction, it was actually about the feeling of seeing the history all spreading out in front of him. He was a southerner who lived through the time of the civil war. His sense of belonging to the traditional culture and the memories of the stamping out of the southern culture after the humiliation of their defeat, and also the remembrance of the southern traditional aristocratic families shone through his work. The clash that happened between the long – standing tradition and the everchanging outside world was so powerful that near the end of the story of A Rose for Emily, there came the shocking revelation of Emily keeping a corpse for bedmate. A Rose for Emily begins with Miss Emily’s funeral, where people all gather in her once glorious but now decaying mansion to pay their respect. The story then shifts back in time, talking about the former - 32 -
mayor of Jefferson, Colonel Sartoris, who excuses her from paying taxes due to his kindness and his sympathy of her regard. However, when a new generation takes over, the new mayor starts to think differently. He deems the excuse dissatisfying, but his attempts to charge her are unsuccessful. The story then leaps back to her thirties, about the odor that emits from her house that the then mayor refuses to confront her. The story went on to describe that Emily’s grievance of losing father had made her delusional, denying her father’s ability of dying. In the same year, Homer Barren comes into her life, and sweeps her off her feet. She becomes the target of gossips and speculations. In her later years, no one has ever seen Homer Barren again, leading people in believing that he has left. The story ended with people finally entering her house, and discovered a strand of Emily’s hair next to a gleaming corpse. Emily herself represents the decaying southern culture and her stubbornness to change can be seen easily. From the way she keeps - 33 -
denying permission to be charged by the new generation, tells us that she stands with the traditional and Colonel Sartoris that represents it. As the time progress, she is still the same, reversed, keeping to herself in her house. Then Homer Barren, the idea of rebuilder, hope crashes into her world. For some time, the town is surprised that she seems to be reining her life in once more. The public is harsh, though. The gossips turn into full on whispers behind her back, and Homer Barren’s sexual orientation and his wild behavior aren’t helping things either. To try to stabilize her standing, Emily went into a drugstore to buy arsenic. And her behavior reflects as the southerner’s attempt to regain their footing during and after the civil war. Finally, what comes out of the spark of the collision of the two cultures, is the horrifying image of a fleshless grin of a man, hidden from sight for a long tim
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MICHELLE
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化學二 李詠琪
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My Thoughts About the Course Hi! My name is Michelle and I major in chemistry. I’m very glad to be Nicole’s student. In this semester, we read a lot of classical stories and discussed with our group members. We analyzed each story together, and sometimes we made a poster. We read “Tell-Tale Heart” carefully and thoroughly and prepared some small games and questions in our presentation to let other classmates think more about some details. Through the exchange of ideas, we could understand the story deeper and think more comprehensively. Besides, we also wrote some articles, including analytical writing, narrative writing, and creative writing. Learning us to write our thoughts down, we also improved our writing skill. Nicole would revise every article seriously and ask us to correct writing expressions. This is really a good course!
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Analytical Writing 1 From the story “Storyteller”, we know that the good girl in the aunt’s story is rescued by her admirers; on the other hand, the good girl in the man’s story is eaten by a wolf. Also, the man is confident about his storytelling ability. In the following passages, I am going to discuss the girls’ condition in each story.
“If the girl had not been good, would those people have saved her?” Answering to the question asked by the kids, the aunt says that “they would save her but they wouldn’t run so fast to help her.” She wants to tell the kids to be good enough, and build up an image that the world is kind, and wishes they grow up without difficulties. The truth is the society is never concerned about the ‘loser’ who is not excellent enough to draw attention. We assume if the victim of a car accident is a normal office worker, people might feel sympathy. What if the victim of the car accident is an outstanding youth, who is ambitious and has a number of opportunities and resources to make himself a better person? Without doubt, people would be full of 38
sympathy and even be furious with the perpetrator. Everyone would pray for the youth rather than the office worker. Similarly, the girl might not be rescued if she is not good enough. This is the truth.
In the bachelor’s story, the horribly good girl is eaten by the wolf. From one side, I think this indicates that there are always some people who are jealous of excellent people and want to hurt them because of their outstanding performances. In workplace, we often face this kind of condition. The medals on the girl show the girl is very proud of herself and she wants to let everyone know how good she is. Therefore, she is dead because she used to be in a comfortable environment and she is not modest enough. This symbolizes that there is nobody that would treat you friendly because you are good. From the other side, I think the story tells us that everyone is fair in front of nature. Even if you are excellent, the typhoon or the flood still can destroy your lovely home. The natural disaster won’t pass you because you are good. The wolf would still eat the good girl because she is a big meal for it.
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The good girl in the aunt’s story has a happy ending; on the other hand, the girl in the man’s story has encountered a problem and died. The aunt wants to let those kids know that you will deserve many respects if you are good, but the man tells the truth that you would still be trapped in some dilemma even though you are good and you might be in trouble because of being good. From the storyline, we could find that the kid’s aunt is not dominant. She is pinned with the children. She wants to educate those children positively, but the man tells the cruel truth. Also, the man has a higher level of the ability to tell a story, leaving the woman angry and unhappy. The bristled woman loses.
Comparing to the ending of the aunt’s story, those children like the bachelor’s more; that is, they accept the truth of the world. Although they just want to hear a different story, rather than understanding the cruelty of society. But at least they know that the world is not as wonderful as most kids have been taught to think.
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Narrative Writing 1 I don’t like rainy days. If I were the girl in the story “All Summer in a Day”, I would have been crazy.
I don’t like rainy days. Every time I wake up and hear rainy sound ‘tik-tot’ I become irritated. “I don’t want to go out!!” I shouted in my mind. Reality is always different from ideal. I woke up and went out. Seeing the heavy rain and thinking of being wet some seconds later, I wanted to go back to my own room. I finally stepped out my first step unwillingly. With the rain dropping and dropping, my shoes became wet gradually, from the upper side to my socks, from my instep to foot base, and then the insole. My shoes had already been wet. It was so uncomfortable! At the same time, the strong wind blew the rain on my body and made my clothes wet, too. Without noticing on the road, I stepped into a puddle. On the moment I stepped into it, I felt some cold water touch my skin and
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my whole shoes became very wet, and then I walked each step with some unpleasant sound. I seemed to be able to squeeze water out every step I took. It was so disgusting.
I finally got into a building and went to my class. There was rainy water everywhere on the ground and made it more slippery, increasing the danger of slipping. The wet socks and shoes really made me uncomfortable. Considering if I should take off my shoes or not, I chose to took it off and let them dry quicker. Sadly, the shoes and socks dried slowly. They needed more time to let water leave the fabric. I had to wear the disgusting shoes again. This process happened again and again in a day, and it happened again and again in all rainy days. It really bothered me!!
In addition to those mentioned above, there is one more point that makes people hate rainy days----- some outdoor activities would be changed or canceled. Maybe it is a family activity, which those
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children have expected for a long time. Maybe it is a high school welcome party for the freshman, which is the first activity for those students. Maybe it is a huge picnicking, which is an opportunity for many friends and even couples to share their thoughts. In case of a heavy rain, those activities all cannot be held. A lot of people would be disappointed because of the heavy rain.
I really don’t like rainy days, but rain is the main water resource on the earth. There are so many disadvantages so that I don’t want to go out in rainy days at all. I wish I could live in a world that could always rain when I don’t have to go out.
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Narrative Writing 2 In my high school life, there was a teacher that everybody knew he would sexually harass girl students, especially those who had black and straight hair, big eyes, and pretty face. It had been like this for some years. When I first went into the school, I was told by the senior classmates that I should be careful. But everyone thought that victims would never be themselves.
Knowing things like this might occur, most of us would choose to tolerate it rather than expose it, so did those victims. Similar things happened year by year until my 12th-grade year. There were four students’ parents who came to school to expose these hidden facts. The school held an emergency meeting. My civil and social teacher was at the meeting. My teacher was a principled woman. As long as we didn’t test her limit, she could get along with students well. In the meeting, she expounded that she thought this incident should be handled appropriately and dispose of the “wolf teacher” reasonably. However, the principal of my school was a timid person 45
who just hoped things to get covered up quickly, so that wolf teacher was just punished. My teacher was dissatisfied and told the truth to her students in her homeroom class, and hoped all her students could do something to push the school to deal with this thing actively.
I remembered the day was the 18th anniversary of 921 earthquake. According to the convention, there was an earthquake disaster prevention drill that day. Every military instructor always spoke eloquently in the past time, but the instructor put us back to our classroom just after calling us to the playground on that day because we intended to launch a protest to draw the school’s attention. The condition was unexpected, but there were still some classes standing on the playground and shouting “Make the truth public, kick the wolf teacher out!”. At that time most students went back to the classroom because they didn’t want to get themselves in trouble, including me. Most students thought that this was our last year in high school. We didn’t have to protest. The only thing we had to focus on was the coming exam. The thought made the 46
coordinator, one of my civil and social teacher’s students, disappointed.
After the earthquake prevention drill, our biology teacher told us about her personal experience. When she was a student, she took the bus as usual. She napped on the chair, but suddenly she felt someone was touching her boobs. She was panic and shouted, but the woman beside her said, “You need not fuss.” She was surprised and shouted, “If you don’t help me as you are a woman, who else in this society can help me?” I thought she must have been very despaired, telling us this difficult past to advise us that ignorance was very harmful to the victims.
In the end, the “wolf teacher” was dismissed and was not allowed to teach for his whole life. Fortunately, we did some change unlike those villagers in the story “The Lottery”. Although this was a negative event, I learned much from it. I hope I can do some change to protect victims who are afraid to stand out to fight against evil force.
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The condition on the 18th anniversary of 921 earthquake
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Creative Writing 1 I remembered Emily was a cute girl and she always played with the kids in the town, but the things changed after her father died and her lover left her. She became very strange. She didn’t go out anymore.
After Mr. Grierson’s funeral, some construction workers came to our small town. One of them was extraordinary handsome, and soon after working for a few days he had a close relationship with Emily and then really had an affair. We all thought that it was very improper!! She ignored her aristocratic etiquette and had a relationship with a Yankee!!! This was really shocking. I totally cannot agree on this kind of thing!
Although everyone gave negative comments to their relationship, their relationship seemed to be quite good. They often went out together. Sometimes I saw them going hiking or fishing. 49
That was a beautiful time for Emily I thought. And some people had seen her go to buy men's bathroom supplies, and even thought they were going to get married. What a romantic and sweet thing! But I still cannot identify with their improper relationship. Unexpectedly, just after we believe they would go into a church and get married, Emily and the worker seemed to be gone. We don't know what happened to them.
A while ago, some stench smell came out of her house. Every villager could not stand it. We didn’t know what happened in that mysterious house. We reported to the mayor and asked him to tell her to eliminate the disgusting smell from her house. The mayor said that he thought telling a woman her house was stinky directly was an impolite behavior, also was not a gentleman’s behavior, so he assigned a few people to sneak into her house and sprinkle lime. And the bad smell was gone.
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After that, no one watched her go out, only her negro housekeeper would go out to buy things, and others could occasionally see her slightly from the window. I usually passed by her house when walking to buy something, but I had never seen any shadow of her or the worker. I thought it was strange but no one minded this tiny thing.
After a few years, she died. We all were surprised. We didn’t know what happened to her in the end of her life, also didn’t know what made her become so strange. Poor Emily! She really experienced an unsatisfactory life. I hoped she could rest in peace. Later, some people went into her house and said that they saw the bones of the worker. It was really terrible. It was terrifying enough. Fortunately, I didn’t follow along.
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Creative Writing 2 July 04th, 1912
(sunny)
On the way to Grandma’s house, Auntie was boring as usual. The scene looking from the train to outside was the same as every time we passed by before. Trying to look for some interesting things, we asked Auntie some questions. But the answer Auntie said was as boring as her. She said she would like to tell us a story, but the story was really terrible. She always couldn’t give us a satisfying answer to the question we asked. Oh, it was a tiring day I thought.
Then the bachelor in the corner suddenly said that Auntie was not a good story-teller. I was surprised and felt energetic to listen to the bachelor’s story. In the bachelor’s story, the horribly good girl was eaten by the wolf! There was no one that could help her. She thought “if I had not been so extraordinarily good, I should have been safe in the town at this moment.” Maybe she is an arrogant girl I think. If she had not worn the medals, she might not have been eaten. I think of one of my classmates. She is an excellent girl, but no 52
one likes her. Some bad boys even bully her. I am so confused about it. When I heard of the bachelor’s story, I realized something. The girl in my class always shows off the high points on her test paper and her Haute Couture. She despised us. In the beginning, everyone was envious. With her show-offs increasing, the classmates started to hate her. They started to isolate her and created some rumors about her. I think she is like the girl in the bachelor’s story. They are both so arrogant that they deserve the terrible ending.
Anything is a double-edged sword. Advantages can bring you up to the cloud floating in the sky and can also push you down into an abyss. It is all up to your behavior. If you share your resources, everyone will get ahead together. On the other hand, if you show off all you have but not want to share, you will be isolated from other students because you are too selfish.
There was something interesting in that afternoon finally. The bachelor won the storytelling game. Auntie lost. I wish that she would never tell stories to make the world seem to be friendly. That is really boring. And she is also a really bad storyteller. 53
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ROSE
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Introduction
李佩容
Hello! I’m Rose. These are my articles, including my opinions, experiences, and creative ideas for the stories that we have read in the class. The purpose of these writings is to explore the protagonists’ mind and analyze their behaviors and thoughts, and then I extend it for the purpose of comparing to my life experiences. In the last part, I wrote a creative article by imagining what a male protagonist would think. There are two thesis statements which discuss for observation (“Araby”) and the concepts of love (“A rose for Emily” and “A Shameful Affair”) respectively. In other two writings, I wrote about my experiences after entering university, including epiphany and gender stereotype. The last one is creative writing for Fred Evelyn’ mind. Hope that you like these stories. Thank you.
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Analytical writing for Araby
Rose
The first person narrator of the story “Araby” is also the major character as well as an observer. Also he is influenced by his own observation daily. By observing those people around his life, the boy’s behavior and personality are altered significantly. All in all, he gets mature gradually in his experience. The person who he most frequently observes is Mangan’s sister. “She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing.” (P.18) The boy carefully watches her hair and neck; moreover, he even doesn’t remember what he answers to Mangan’s sister. Another instance has made the boy lose his mind in attending class. “At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read.” “I could not call my wandering thoughts together.” (p.18) These show that The 57
thing that Mangan’s sister requests him to do causes him to be unable to concentrate in class. The image of Mangan’s sister imprints on his heart and makes him admire her more and more. Besides, he really wants to go to the bazaar as soon as possible and buys a gift to her. On the other hand, the saleswoman in the bazaar makes the boy feel inferiority. “At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two gentlemen.” (p.20) However, the young lady treats him with a passive tone when the boy comes to the stall. In contrast, she chats with the two men eagerly. He feels offended because of the woman’s attitude. He understands that his behavior just satisfies his vanity; moreover, his adoration to Mangan’s sister only exists in his imagination rather than in reality. In fact, the truth is not as romantic as he fantasies. It is underbelly, and he rediscovers the world is ugly. Sometimes, love can’t do anything, but money and power can do. 58
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Analytical writing for Emily and Mildred
Rose
The concepts of love vary from person to person. The protagonist in the story “A Shameful Affair”, Mildred, she values social status more than love. In the other story “A Rose for Emily”, Emily minds staying with her lover forever rather than his status. These two story tells us different type for love. Emily’s love is not limited by racism. She is infatuated with Homer Barron who is black. “The construction company came with riggers and miles and machinery, and a foreman named Homer Barron, a Yankee-a big, dark, ready man, with a big voice and eyes lighter than his face.” (P.75) We can understand the thing that in spite of being black, he is a cheerful and popular man. This is absolutely different from the people who Emily met and deeply attracts her. In the other story, A Shameful Affair, Mildred feels ashamed to love a famer. “Shame stunned her. But through it she gropingly wondered if she should tell the Kraummers that her chaste 60
lips had been rifled of their innocence. Publish her own confusion? No! Once in her room she would give calm thought to the situation, and determine then how to act. The secret must remain her own: a hateful burden to bear alone until she could forget it.” (P.84) Mildred consider she is not innocence because of the kiss. She thinks that the man’s social status is low rather than be noble and he is unworthy to get her love and kiss. On the other hand, Emily and Mildred are similar in dealing with first love. They are easily attracted to the person who grow up in a different environment and family. Both Homer Barron and the farmer are not as rich as them. I think that is because they are bandaged by rules and feel interested in the two man’s life, so they misunderstand that they fall in love. Social status is most people’s prerequisites to choose couple. For Emily, her love exceeds everything. She can’t live without love, and she also difficultly endures her lover departs her. Therefore, she 61
kills Homer Barron in the end of the story. Oppositely, Mildred avoids the man who despots her first kiss and she thinks that is a ashamed affair. That is, she considers social status are better than everything. These two examples display different types in concepts of love.
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Similar Experience in My Life
Rose
Experience is the best teacher. Indeed, the most important lesson we learn in life comes from our engagement in situations. And only practice makes you a successful person. All the theories I learned were enough to solve most problems in my life. This thought had come with me for a long time before entering the university. Until I met a class named mechanical workshop, it subverted my thinking. For example, a teaching assistant taught us how to operate the lathe, and then we would finish a work piece by ourselves. When I listened to the lesson, I thought that was so easy to do it. However, that is a stupid and arrogant thinking. There were lots of details that we couldn’t understand by manipulating, not to mention just listening and watching. We needed to turn the steering wheel slowly and slowly in order not to make any grain on the work piece. But how could I know what speed could achieve it? Just do it! Indeed, practice 63
makes perfect. The valuable knowledge was in implement. After that class, I realized that actions speak louder than words. The protagonist in “Araby� has been left out by the saleswoman, and he understands the real world is ugly. Similarly, I also learned that the most important lessons could not be taught; they have to be experienced. We always grow up because of the frustration.
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The Framework in My Life
Rose
There are many “frameworks” in one’s life, especially for women. In women are considered not as powerful as men. Women are good at word processing and men are good at coding or repairing machines. In this case, people always think that men work as engineers and women work in banks. Most people consider that boys should major in engineering. When they heard that I majored in mechanical engineering, their reactions were always surprising. Then, they would ask “Wow! There are few girls in this department. Why did you choose it?” I think this is kind of gender stereotype. Women can also finish a lot of things like flying airplanes or studying mathematics and physics. In my class, some women are better than men in operating machines, getting higher grades, and doing experiments well in lab. Take another example, some relatives would ask me “Do you think that you can handle it?” This was an unfriendly question. In this case, I 65
think that I should try my best to finish every challenge to prove that I can do it well and better than men. In contemporary society, the ability of women does not seem to be smaller than men’s, so people should change their concept of inequality between men and women completely. All I can do is improve my ability to prove that I am as capable as men.
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Fred Evelyn’ Mind
Rose
Mildred is young, cute and smart: “clever young women of twenty�. It is the first impression for her. It was a boring banquet, and I stood in a balcony to watch those people. Suddenly, there was a beautiful girl coming into my sight. This was the first time we met. I fell in love with her at first sight. However, I was not brave enough to talk to her. I just secretly observed her behavior, in this way, I understood what was her favorite food and how she communicated with people. I could not wait to tell her my mind. I made a wonderful plan to commemorate our first date. I gave up my easy life, and then I tilled the soil with laborers. This was because I heard that Mildred would come to this farm the next month. I pretended to be a tramp and got work in that farm. When Mildred came to the farm, I knew my opportunity also came. I picked up her paper and mounted the steps restored it back 67
to her. I understood that she didn’t remember me, but I believed she would be interested in me because of this encounter. As I expected, Mildred asked me to drive her to the church. Gods knew how I was excited, but I couldn’t answer her because I wanted to invite her to fish. Hence, I rejected her request and told her that I would go fishing tomorrow. Indeed, she came to the river and tried to chat with me. I was too nervous to answer her, and just said “Yes, madam” or “No, madam”. Out of blue, she asked to learn how to fish. She laid her book carefully down and took the pole gingerly that I came to place in her hands. Then I stood back and looked respectfully and silently at the absorbing performance. "Oh!" Mildred cried, suddenly, seized with excitement upon seeing the line dragged deep in the water. "Wait, wait! Not yet." 68
I sprang to her side. With my eyes eagerly fastened on the tense line, I grasped the pole to prevent her drawing it, as her intention seemed to be. I found that my brown hand came down upon Mildred's white one. I started violently at finding myself so close to a bronze-brown tangle that almost swept my chin to a hot cheek only a few inches away from my shoulder. Then, I couldn’t control myself and kissed her lips ten times. I realized this would get her disgust and I disappeared with rapid strides through the path that had brought her there. I felt so sorry to her. I should apologize to her because of my offense. In the gathering twilight Mildred walked again through the wheat that was heavy and fragrant with dew. I intercepted her.
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"Miss Orme," I said, "I have wanted to say to you, every hour of the past week, that I am the most consummate hound that walks the earth." She made no protest. I felt disturbed. "If you have a father, or brother, or any one, in short, to whom you may say such things " "I think you aggravate the offense, sir, by speaking of it. I shall ask you never to mention it again. I want to forget that it ever happened. Will you kindly let me by?" "Oh," I ventured eagerly, "you want to forget it! Then, maybe, since you are willing to forget, you will be generous enough to forgive the offender some day?" "Someday," she repeated, almost inaudibly, looking seemingly through me, but not at me "someday perhaps; when I shall have forgiven myself."
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I stood motionless, watching her slim, straight figure lessening by degrees as she walked slowly away from me. I recalled what she said. Afterwards, I realized the thing that she rejected me fiercely. I couldn't tell Mildred how much I hated that I jumped the gun and I made her feel uncomfortable. Perhaps, I needed to arrange another plan‌
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FRANKLIN
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Why is the fraud raising up these day?
趙仁超
Because the legal punishment is too light, and many people want to speculate too much. For example, on the mainland china if the fraud is serious, the prisoner may be sentenced to death or imprisoned for life. In Taiwan, such a punishment is divided by educability in the end. Such deterrence is not enough. Resulting in the criminal's crime cost being too low. The exception is that people nowadays were too irritable. Many people have a speculative attitude and thought that pies will fall in the sky. That gives criminals the opportunity to the crime. After all, fraud is a low-cost and highly profitable industry so criminals wanted money in an easy way and do not wanted to obtain wealth through regular channels such as hard work that was too slow for them. Most people have low awareness of anti-fraud and it is difficult to distinguish between true and false, especially when temptation is placed in front of them. Victims still have to learn to ask for help with an open mind. Don't stop reporting 73
because if we afraid of other people's gossip. That will only encourage the crime. Modern technology is becoming more and more developed, so fraud methods are becoming more and more sophisticated, making people unpredictable. Fraudsters also have researched on the victim’s psychology, not just simple fraud, they have their own set of control over human nature, and they work for teams to make people. It is difficult to telling the truth. Finally, we just always remember one sentence: “ the pie will not be in vain in the sky, if only there will happen in the dream.� In this way, you will not be fooled by fraudsters.
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Bird with no wings I remembered that day was sweet and nice. class was finished, I walked to the late-night street to eat some food and I felt exhausted, walking impatiently, thoughts flying away, nothing special. But the leaves that were falling to my shoulder made me feel blessed. People were in a rush to do something. They were talking, smiling and some of seem to be an eyesore because they just walked and with no any connection to others. I’m ok because I felt pleased when I was by myself. There is no pressure at all. I didn't expect to follow the clown is like a flock of sheep with no self-spirit. I walked in the cafeteria, just as usual I didn't pay any attention to others. I chose the food I wanted. When I was paying, I saw an angel was standing beside the rice pot to fulfill the empty- plastic bowl for the others who had ordered the rice. I was trying to escape the look, the smile, the blink of an eye. I could literally see nothing except her. I knew that was bad for the staring but you had to forgive 75
me because she was so attractive for me. I mean tender and soft. If there was anything that needed to complain, it must be the unreasonable beauty of her. Maybe she was in a relationship, but I didn't care, I just wanted to spend the limited time with her. Maybe just a moment, just a minute, just a second, I felt satisfied. The heart was beating fast. I felt something inside my body and I didn‘t know what that was. That made me nervous and happy. I wanted to wish that she would be smiling every day of her life. I would do everything to just have a chance to say hello to her. I knew that was fantasy. The night was getting late like my expectation. I needed to do something.....
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My Childhood Memory Allow me to share with you a beautiful memory of my childhood. I lived in a small town and before the Chinese New Year, there’s a tradition to buy firecrackers before New Year’s Eve. This was my most exciting moment because my grandfather would buy a lot of firecrackers, including skyrocket the favourites of kids. The car arrived, that was my grandfather. Me and my brother, both holding the most exciting mood, we couldn’t wait to know what was in the car. As there was a magic trick that my grandfather usually played. Bother and I run to the car and surround it. While Grandpa just came out and he was being surrounded immediately, waiting to open the trunk and to take out the most magical present(firecracker), grandpa bought various kind of firecracker, such as ground and sky type, some of them just played just in that day, some are told to be saved to play in the New Years Eve. The moment during that time, it was like no one could be compared to us. I could tell at the moment we 77
are the happiest and satisfied kids in the world. If I can grab the time I wish I could stop the time forever. Although it’s still three days before Chinese New Year, we’re kids, the feelings of wait seemed as long as years. We ignored the mother and grandpa’s suggestion and took their words like a passing wind. We could hardly wait to play and appreciate its beautiful flame. It is a gift from the angel. Grandfather said, “You two need to play in a count in case that you won’t have any to play in the New Year.” We hesitated before in a second, but then played after in a moment in our back yard. The sound of firecrackers was like pala..pala.. that running out an amazing flame and grace of fireworks that sounded as marvellous Mozart's music. Merely we just preferred the fireworks. I’m sure if Mozard had come, he would have been amazed by the incredible sound. The laughter of parents and kids. Form time to time, I still remember waving of the firecrackers. This is the most glorious symphony from nature. The most precise 78
moment of life but now. Suddenly I recognize a quote “to be or not to be, it’s a question.” At this time, I only have happiness, but I knew I’m here, in the dream, in the universal, in the love of family. I’m the god’s kid.
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Araby Analytical Writing Form the second paragraph which was a sentence said:" I like the last best because its leaves were yellow” that metaphors the protagonist likes the old school fashion style. When Joyce describes Mangan's sister. It doesn’t show directly but using a lot of scenes like: “Her figure is described by the light from the half-opened door/her dress swung as she moved her body, and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side” The boy's various performances are out of his inner fantasy and desire for romantic love. From these plain texts, the author not only made the reader understood the psychology and life situation of the boy but also makes the reader felt compassion for the protagonist who is in a dilemma of the love relationship. Joyce used symbolism in his early works. In his works, many descriptions of the environment and the foreground contain profound symbolic meanings. The first paragraph at the beginning of 80
"Araby" expresses the conflict between fantasy and reality symbolically. The "dead-end" of "North Richmond Street" symbolizes that the protagonist has no choice in such an environment. The houses on the street are gloomy, terrifying and damp. The gardens with bad smells symbolize the bad side of the town which strongly implied the contrast of beauty to ugly. The darkness of Dublin society It also implies that the romantic pursuit of "I" will inevitably fail in such a social environment.
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Araby Poem Being a blind, quiet, musty street A boy crush on a girl Beautiful long hair and colourful dress Light from the dark Ignorant and foolish Boy with shy and fantasy Chasing the dream of love Imaged heaven “Araby� Restless and anxious Across the land passing the reality A dream became a cloud of dust Blowing in the wind
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Poem for the “ A Rose for Emily” A girl put under pressure. She just wants to fly. Big house with no love. Stonefall. She is released. The broken heart needs to be repaired. Shy, unique, different. She just didn’t dance. The rose is not red but turns to dark. Maybe that is the way she is. Someday. Time is passing. Rose will grow once again. In the sky, in the heart.
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Our beloved teacher-- Nicole
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