Category Archives: Project #1

draft, Project #1, Week 6

“POOR EMILY”

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When Miss Emily’s father died Tobe was worried about her.   “God knows how this poor woman will survive without her father,” he muttered to himself.”  He had worked as the Grierson family servant since Miss Emily was a little girl.   He never knew her mother.  When she became a young lady he could not understand why her father never allowed any of the men who were interested in her to court her.  It seemed in the eyes of Mr. Grierson, no man was good enough for her.

“Tobe,” Mr. Grierson would say.  “Show this young man to door.” This happened several times.

The young men would fidget nervously with their hat and would manage to say, “thank you for your time Mr. Grierson,” as if showing Mr. Grierson respect would change his mind.

He and his daughter had a close bond.  Now that he was gone Miss Emily was alone, husbandless and with no family or friends in town, this meant she was bound to be lonely.

He watched her sitting next to the bed on which her father took his last breath.  His body still lay there. He could hear her whispering, “father!”  “Father!”  “Can you hear me?”  “Please wake up.”    Several hours after Mr. Grierson’s death he cautiously approached her.  “Miss Emily,” he said, “should I fetch the coroner to take the body now.”  She turned her head and tears ran down her cheek.  Then she spoke with anger.  “No one is to touch my father!” she screamed.  “No one,”  “Do you hear me Tobe!?”  It was as if the grief she felt was making her mad.   He had never seen her so upset before.  “Alright Miss Emily,” was all he said.

The women folk from town came calling on the second day.   With great effort she manage to pull herself together.   When she met them at the door she was well dressed and very composed.  They had no idea the grief and pain she was feeling.  No one was admitted inside the house.    After Tobe opened the door she would look her visitors in the eye and in a curt voice she would say, “my father is not dead.”

One day after she abruptly closed the door she sat down in the parlor and wept.  Through her sobbing she said, “Tobe, I am alone.”   “Why did he have to leave me?”  He was unsure how to respond.  He was not use to her expressing her personal feelings to him.   Finally he said, “I am here Miss Emily, you are not alone.”

On the second day the ministers and doctors were admitted in the house by Tobe.  They did their best to persuade Miss Emily to let them bury her father.  She would not relent.   Just as they decided to use the law to force her to release the body Tobe appeared at the coroner’s office.   “Miss Emily is ready to bury her father.” Was all he said.

It was not an easy task for Tobe to get Miss Emily to relent.   “This is wrong Miss Emily,” he said to her earlier that morning. “Your father need to be put to rest.”  She turned from her position at her father’s bedside.  He saw the grief in her eyes, but he also saw that she was more subdued.  “You are right Tobe,” she had said.  “Fetch the coroner.”

 

It took him days to get the smell of death out of that house.   Miss Emily never acknowledge the smell.  It was as if it did not bother her one bit.

After she buried her father she became a recluse, barely leaving the house.   Tobe heard some of the gossip when he went to town on errands for her.   “That’s her negro,” they would say.   “Did you hear?”  a woman said in the grocery store,  “she is broke.”   The other woman chimed in, “I heard all he left her was that old house.”   As the conversation continued he heard yet another woman saying.  “The Griersons always act like they’re better than us, now she will see what it’s like to live like the rest of us.” “Poor Miss Emily,” they all said in unison.

In his mind he visualized himself going up to these women and defending Miss Emily.   He would tell them what a wonderful person she was.  Of course he could not.  He was her servant and there were different rules for people of his race.

One day while they were inside, a noise from outside interrupted the silence of that big old house.  “What’s going on Tobe?” she asked.  “Oh Miss Emily it’s that man Homer Barron cussing those Niggers.” “Who?”  She said.    “Homer Barron,” he repeated.  “He is out there with some niggers paving the sidewalks.”

“Tobe!” she yelled as the noise became even more bothersome.  “Fetch me my hat.”  He was surprised she wanted to go out and quickly fetched her hat.  He opened the door for her and watched as she ventured to the gate.

He was unsure about the conversation that transpired but when she came back inside, he thought he saw a faint smile on her face, something he had not seen in years.

He was shock when the doorbell rang that Sunday and Homer Barron stood there.

He had seen him in town on many occasion since work started on the pavements.  From what he knew he was the foreman of the contracted construction company.  He was a Yankee, a big, dark ready man.  He had a big booming voice and eyes lighter than his face.  He was charming.  The ladies liked him, the little boys followed him around and the men respected him.    Everyone knew Homer Barron.

Tobe! He said with hat in his hand.  “I am here to call on Miss Emily.”   Tobe was unsure what to say, but he quickly recovered and said, “wait here.”  He closed the door.  He was surprised all over again when he saw Miss Emily well dressed and wearing her favorite hat coming down the stairs.  Her face looked bright, she was beaming.   “She looks happy.” He thought to himself.   Despite the fact that she seemed to be expecting Homer Barron Tobe still informed her.  “Miss Emily, a Mr. Homer Barron is at the door.”  “Thank you Tobe,” she said as she waltz through the door he held open for her.    He watched as he held her hand to help her into the yellow horse drawn buggy.

This became a routine.  Every Sunday Homer Barron came by with the horse buggy to pick up Miss Emily.  The women in town now had new events to fuel their gossip machine.   Many were happy for Miss Emily.  Even Tobe was happy.   He noticed Miss Emily was in a pleasant mood since she started to spend time with Homer Baron.

It seemed the town folks especially the women could not make up their minds,  this minute they were happy for Miss Emily and the next minute they gossip about her relationship.   They felt it was not a good example for the young girls in Town for Miss Emily to spend so much time with Mr. Barron without a chaperone.   They forced the minister to speak with her.   Tobe admitted him.  At the end of his speech about moral standards Miss Emily merely said to him.  “What goes on in my life is nobody’s business.”  Then she summoned Tobe and said, “kindly show this gentleman out.”

A few weeks later when her cousins showed up at her house she was upset and told them in no uncertain terms that they too should stay out of her affairs.

By that time all the sidewalks had been paved and Homer Barron left town.   No one knew what to make of it.  After all the whole town thought they would be married.

Even Tobe thought they were to be married.  He had seen them together and saw how happy they were in each other’s company.   When Tobe picked up a man’s toilet set and men’s clothing and a night shirt that Miss Emily had ordered, he felt sure they were to be married.

The cousins left town and sure enough Homer Barron returned.  That Sunday he took Miss Emily on a buggy ride just like old times.

Tobe saw her when she returned to the house.  She did not look happy.  “Are you alright Miss Emily?” he asked.   She did not reply.   Next day she insisted that she have to go to town.  She returned with a package from the drug store.   She placed the package in the kitchen.  Tobe could not resist opening the package.   He read the label out loud, “for rats.”  He was puzzled because he had not seen rat in the house for a long time.

One day at dusk Homer Barron came for supper.  Tobe admitted him through the kitchen door.   He could not understand why he did not use the front door.  “Hi Tobe.”  “Miss Emily asked me to use the kitchen door.”

When Tobe walked by the parlor he overheard Homer Baron talking to Miss Emily.  “It’s the same as we discussed before,” Homer said.  “I am not ready to get married.”   Miss Emily was quiet for a moment then with grace and dignity she rose and looked at Homer.  “Would you like something to eat,” she asked.”  She excused herself and went to the kitchen.  She returned later with a tray.

As they ate she did her best to seem light hearted, but deep down she was hurting.  After the meal Homer Barron just sat there as if he could not move.

“Tobe!” Miss Emily said, “Take Mr. Barron upstairs to his room.”  He knew exactly which room she spoke of,  for earlier that day she had asked him to lay out all the items she brought for him in that room.

The next day he thought Homer had left town.  He brought Miss Emily her breakfast.  Her faced looked sad and withdrawn.  It reminded him of when she lost her father.

He noticed the room he had put Homer Barron in was locked with a key.

Then the smell started. At first it was faint like when Mr. Grierson died.  Then it got strong and overpowering.  It was the smell of death he thought.   He was not sure what to make of it.   Sometimes she would open the door to the room she had set up for Homer and stay there for a long time.

The smell went away in a couple of months.   Tobe was glad.  He was too old to track down where that smell was coming from.

After that Miss Emily never went out again.  She got older and frail from lack of fresh air and sunlight.

When she took sick and died Tobe felt sorry for her.  She had not experience the joy of marriage and family.  He left soon after her death.  He had family in another town he would be staying with.  He did not go to the funeral and he was not there when they broke open the door to Homer Barron’s room and found the man lying there.   Strands of grey hair and the impression of Miss Emily’s body was on the bed.    Poor Emily,  she could not have him in life, but she certainly had him all to herself in death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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draft, Homework, Project #1, Week 6

“The Husbands Side of Life”

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Beep beep beep! “What’s this? She’s in labor. My wife’s in labor everyone, I must leave at once.” Where’s my keys, John breathe think, oh here they are. This is going to be the longest 5 minute drive of my life.

“Where’s room 309?” “Right down the hall sir.” Said the Nurse

I better slow down I’m running out of breathe.

“John you’re here” says Jane, “of course, now it’s time to have our son.”

After 10 hours of labor we are exhausted. It was a stressful delivery, emergency cesarean. Thankfully mom and baby are in good health. I will have to take over lots of duties in the next week or so while she heals.

“Darling would you like to hold him, I can assist you?” “Not right now I’m too tired” she said.

Days like this turn into weeks, weeks turn into months. I had to hire a stay home nanny and have my sister Jennie move in to look after my family as I had to go back to work.

Work has become my life. At home I didn’t want to be in Jane’s way, all she would ever speak about was the ugly wallpaper in our bedroom. She hasn’t progressed she analyses the wallpaper in a way that she drives herself insane. Not calling my wife crazy, she’s just putting too much attention on unnecessary things instead of her health. I love my wife I want her back, back the way she once was. Writing about beautiful things and places full of life.

Our son is growing, my poor child needs love and affection from his mother. I try as much as I can and Jennie is great trying to play the mother role. But she’s not his mother, it’s a lot for Jennie she cannot have children of her own. Meanwhile Jane bared a child and doesn’t want anything to do with him.

Home is dreadful, but it’s home. I have horrid thoughts while I’m away at work, as soon as I open the estates door I run up to Jane’s room to check on her and hope she hasn’t harmed herself in away. I discussed anti-depressants for her with her brother, he agreed that taking something might actually help her relax. She slept better that night, but she’s still not my Jane. Will I ever get her back?

“Jane dear please go for a walk, some fresh air might do you well” “yes darling” said Jane

Finally she listened, getting out might be good for her. I wanted her gone so I can take a good look at the hideous wallpaper.

First thing I notice it yellow, ugly yellow not a happy bright yellow, with uneven patterns. Ahh that must be what bothers her. It’s not aligned correctly. This paper must’ve shifted with the heat and melted, no one has lived her in years. That can be irritating, there’s no beauty in the room. I thought possibly with this room previously being a nursery she might want to connect with our child.

“Jennie! Please come in here”

“Yes John, please hurry this room isn’t well” she said

“That’s exactly what I wanted to speak with you about. What do you see when you look into this wallpaper.” I asked curiously.

“John, I see Jane. Jane’s somehow lost in there. I notice the yellow and how it stains one’s clothing. Jane’s clothes always have patches of yellow as if she was sleeping on a yellow stained bed. I do wish you would take it down for her.” Said Jennie.

We only have a day left in this house, maybe I should’ve redecorated or listened to Jane and went into another room. Unfortunately I now have to leave for work over night tonight. This can be well for Jane, some closure or at very least happiness that she will never see the wallpaper again.

“Jennie, would you please stay with Jane tonight?”

“I will John, safe travels brother. Don’t worry about us here?” Jennie replied

My dear sister if only it was that easy to not worry. As I worked all I could think of was that wallpaper and what it has done to Jane. She looked at it as if someone was looking back her.

Now to get ready to go home. It’s been a strange 3 months. Let’s see how Jane will be in the comfort her own home. “Let’s get going everyone, the sooner we have everything together the sooner we are out of here”. I yelled.

“Jane dear, it’s John, I’m ready to take you home.”

“John” she said

“Open this door”

“I can’t, but you can from the outside with the key” she replied

I can’t get this door open, she doesn’t sound well. I hope she’s safe and my worst fear hasn’t come true. She cannot be harmed. I need her I love her. Finally it’s open.

“What the matter with you Jane, I nearly had a heart attack for god’s sake your yellow”

“I’m free!” she whispered

Maybe I was wrong for bringing her here and I shouldn’t have left her last night.

“What do you mean by free.”

“I’ve ripped off the wallpaper, so you can’t put me back” she said

Now I understand she was so lost and confined she saw herself in the yellow wallpaper. Oh no what’s that I think I’m having that heart attack now.

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draft, Project #1, Week 6

The false freedom

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​My health wasn’t in a perfect condition. I had heart trouble, perhaps caused by living in a male dominated society that offered women limited access to the outside world. However, my husband and I had a happy marriage.

My life was dramatically changed when my sister Josephine and my husband’s friend Richards gave me the lowdown in broken phrases about my husband’s death. They were breaking the news in a gentle, calm manner because of my heart condition. I couldn’t stop crying. I isolated myself in my private room and gave myself a space to consider the damage of losing a husband in a train accident.

I went through a sequence of emotional changes, and I felt empty. I couldn’t imagine the rest of my life without my husband Brently. I was sitting alone in my comfortable chair in my room for a long period facing the window. I gazed outside dreaming of how my life would fall apart and thinking of what would follow the disaster of Brently’s death. The internal struggle gradually intensified inside me and became unbearable- it couldn’t be supported in any capacity by any human being, especially one with heart trouble.

I was looking through my open window to see high trees, blue sky and birds flying and singing freely. I could feel the freshness of spring and smell the fresh dirt after rain falls over it. The view out of my window resuscitated me and I knew I had accept the facts and persevere. I said “life must go on”.

A weird feeling reached out to me while I was in my room. It wasn’t a grieving feeling, it was fearful and falling out of the sky. While trying to adapt to this environment whispered words have flew over and over my slightly parted lips in a quiet voice “free, free, free!”. I started to feel a sudden change. The grief and the internal struggle transformed into joy and happiness. I could see the freedom. I can be in control over my own life and live the upcoming years for myself instead of living them for Brently. Brently tried to be a good, caring husband but he imposes his will upon me and now! There will be no power will upon me. I have freedom and I don’t have to be obeisant to anyone. I enjoyed this new life and I kept whispering “free, body and soul, free!”

My sister Josephine reached out to me and knocked on the closed door saying “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door–you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door”. I wasn’t ill but I was healing from the illness and the suffering I was experiencing in my married life. It was a relief to know that I can be myself and follow my guts to make personal decisions freely without being told what to do. ” Go away. I am not making myself ill.” I said.

Eventually, I opened the door to my sister and hugged her with wide open arms. I felt the joy of freedom. Josephine could see the happiness of victory and tears of joy flowing over the edge of my eyes. I took the stairs down to where Richards was waiting. We heard the sound of keys in the door lock and realized that someone was trying to open the main door of the house. That was surprising because no one had the house keys except me and my husband. Behind the door Brently Mallard was standing in a perfect shape. Brently was away from the accident and had not even been aware of the train accident.

All the joy and happiness have been taken away from me, and I felt trapped again in a prison that I had struggled to escape from for such a long time. I passed out and they thought that was the joy that makes people unconscious.

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draft, Project #1, Week 6

The Pulse of “Love” and Emotions

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It was a day with a clear blue sky. It was peaceful and I was glad especially knowing that my husband went off on a trip. Why do I say I’m glad? I wonder myself. Love is that sort of feeling of deep affection towards one another or the act of wanting to see someone by your side. Love however is something that I can’t truly define. I love my husband but my love for him fluctuates like my heart beat.

There was somewhat of a commotion downstairs. I questioned myself, what could possibly be going on? So I went downstairs to find out what was going on for myself. Judging by the commotion, I knew something unappealing was coming my way. That “unappealing” thought I had turned out to be my sister Josephine. She however, stood with a troubled and glum look as the beat of my heart slowly began to speed up.

I thought to myself, “Why does she have a depressed look on her face?” Josephine then looked at me with the eyes of a sloth. “What brings you hear with sadness my sister?” I said. As Josephine talked, I saw my husband’s acquaintance, Richards, standing by her. “Your….husband…Is….Dead.” she muttered hesitantly. Upon hearing this, I instantly wept into the arms of my sister. Slowly, but surely, I eventually calmed down. As I wiped my tears, I requested to be alone in my quarters. I dispiritedly trotted back up the stairs to my room with my heart beating in sync with my emotions.

I entered my quarters and immediately sat down on my armchair. The chair was very comfortable, as if it was drawing me deeper into its comfort; it felt like a seat of a royal horse drawn carriage. It felt like I was being brought more into the chair. This news I just received only recently, shocked me. The warmth of the chair was soothing and calming not only for my mind, but the beat of my heart.

The scenery was peaceful, the paragon of the spring season. Trees were blooming with new life while the spring rain was pleasurably redolent of that familiar scent. It was quiet here. So quiet, that I could faintly hear the sound someone singing from a distance and the sparrows chirping outside my window. I looked up; there was a serene blue sky filled with clouds that often collide with other incoming clouds to form larger clouds. At this point, my heart had settled down and I was calmed.

I was almost motionless; I shook periodically due to my sobbing. I felt like a sleeping newborn after crying for so long ; however, I felt calm. I exhausted all the stresses that broke me down. I looked away from the clouds thinking to myself, “If my husband is gone doesn’t this mean I’m free to do whatever I please?” Once again, the beat of my heart slowly started to accelerate.

I immediately rose up and fell in the course of that action. “I’m now free.” I thought to myself. I stared at my hands and whispered, “Free, free, free!” I then wept again; however, this feeling was different. “Am I actually happy?” I wondered. After so many years of being confined by this one man, I had finally been released from my chains. I glanced at the sky and spread my arms wide open in happiness. I welcomed the face of freedom into soul. My heart pounded against my chest in such a way that warmed and relaxed every inch of my body.

I acknowledged would be alone. Nobody would be able to hold me back from doing as I please. There wouldn’t be any strength in the world to chain me down and my actions. It felt like a crime to even think about something so distant. My eyes were opened with a flame that would ignite the path to the world I was about to enter. I began to look into my future as my heart raced with the excitement of a child.

I entered a world in I created. It was the utopia I have endlessly been dreaming about for such a long time. A world with no limits and burdens. It was the ideal world I wished for. I tranquilly walked around the empty house with my husband out of my sight. I then raced outside to be greeted by the nature of spring without restrictions to my autonomy. I leaped into the meadow where bright flowers surrounded me as the sparrows continue to chirp. I looked up to the clear blue sky that yielded a more definitive hue of blue than the ocean that surrounds the lands we walk on and thought, “this is what true freedom looks like.” I slowly closed my eyes and snapped back to reality. My world, the real world, and now the beat of my heart now resonated as they begin to fuse.

I then heard the voice of Josephine behind the door. “Louis, open the door!” she stammered. “I beg; open the door! You’ll make yourself ill. What are you doing Louise? For heavens sake open the door!” “Go away. I am not making myself ill” I calmly told her. I was consumed by mu dream of the utopia I longed for. “Free! Body and soul free!” I murmured repeatedly. Spring days, Summer days, Fall nights, Winter nights. All of those would be mine. I help possession of my future days and nobody else had any authority over that. I prayed for a long life, which was something that I never could’ve hoped for in the past. With that prayer, my heart continued its acceleration.

I now stood up and proceeded to open the door where my sister was kneeling behind. I looked at her with the eyes of a soldier who came back from a victorious battle. I treaded towards her and clasped my sister’s waste. With that, we proceeded to go back down the stairs. Freedom was the only thing on my mind. My heart raced faster than a Kentucky Saddler. The sight of Richards waiting for us at the bottom was the finish line. My heart raced faster and faster wanting to reach the line.

As we went down step by step, I heard the sound of a door opening. I look towards the source of the sound was coming from and I see the front door slowly open. A bright light quickly entered into the room through the door and slightly blinded my vision. I closed my eyes and opened them again only to see the brightness slowly fading away. There was a shadowy figure standing in front of me. “Don’t tell me what I think it is.” I screamed in my mind, “No no no no! My freedom! I felt the chains slowly come back for me and my heart raced even faster. My sense joy now turned into fear and confusion. As the shadowy figure came closer into visibiliy, my heart felt different. I felt weak and I begin to drop down, carrying my sister along with me. I heard a piercing scream that also brought my heart to a sudden stop. My eyes began to slowly close shut at the image of my husband, Brently Mallard. It was the joy that kills.

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draft, Homework, Week 6

The Day Gregor Samsa Revealed to his Parents that he was a Bug

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Once Gregor decided to leave his room, he went through his double doors to hear the chief clerk exclaim a resounding “Oh” that could be heard throughout the entire house. The chief clerk had never seen anything so unusual in his life, especially a talking enormous pest. He thought, “this must be a dream, this cannot be Gregor Samsa,” while he pressed his hands against his open mouth, he slowly retreated as if driven by an invisible force. The chief clerk thought back on his youth and how he detested insects for their dreadful appearance, especially for their numerous, undulate, hairy legs. Gregor’s mother was sitting on the couch when she saw the reaction of the chief clerk, so she unfolded her arms, rose from her seat, took two steps forward where Gregor was standing, and she immediately fell unconscious on the floor. There were no words to describe her anguish for her son turning into a household pest, all she could do was lay on the floor in utter astonishment and gloom. Gregor’s father looked hostile and clenched his fists as if wanted to knock Gregor back into his room. He could not believe that his precious, hardworking son would turn into an insect. The once strong willed lieutenant in the army was now a repulsive insect that needed to be extinguished.

“Was this the secret Gregor was hiding from us when he refuse to open his door?” thought Gregor’s father. Then, he looked uncertainly around the living room, covered his eyes with his hands and wept so that his powerful chest shook. The father was depending on Gregor to take care of the family. Not only did Gregor financially support the family but he also took care of the father and mother as they were getting older. However, these responsibilities were not of Gregor’s duties anymore because the father saw that he no longer existed anymore. “Now how is the family going to be taken cared of?” “What am I going to?” “How is this vermin going to take care of me?” “He cannot possibly be my son,” thought the father as he continue to weep all the more louder.

Gregor tried to explain to the chief clerk about his excusable tardiness for not coming to work on time but the chief clerk had turned away as soon as Gregor started to speak. He could only see Gregor’s big stature, numerous, hairy legs, moving in all directions, and his antenna moving back and forth like a pendulum of a clock. These actions made the clerk very frightened and since he could not understand most of Gregor’s speech, he thought that Gregor wanted to eat him. So, the chief clerk moved gradually to the entrance hall where he rushed forward in a panic and stretched his hands out towards the staircase in order to escape from this nightmare. “I better get out of here before he consumes every part of my flesh,” thought the chief clerk.

However, while the chief clerk made all effort to escape, Gregor realized that is was out of the question to let the chief clerk go away in this mood, especially if his position at the firm was in extreme danger of being expunged. So, without considering that he was still not familiar with how well he could move about in his present state, or that his speech might not still be understood, he let go of the door; pushed himself through the opening; tried to reach the chief clerk on the landing but immediately fell over and, with a little scream as he sought something to hold onto, landed on his numerous little legs.

As the mother witness all this, she thought of Gregor’s face as a young boy, then as a mature man. She could not believe that this vermin was her son. She closed and opened her eyes, so that Gregor’s normal body would magically reappear but it did not work. All she could see was an enormous bug. Then, in her hysteria, Gregor’s mother suddenly jumped up with her arms outstretched and her fingers spread shouting, “Help, for pity’s sake, Help.” She hurriedly moved backwards until she reached the kitchen table and quickly sat on it without realizing that all the breakfast things were on it. She did not even seem to notice that the coffee pot on the table had been knocked over and a gush of coffee was pouring down onto the carpet.

“Mother, mother,” said Gregor gently, looking up at her but he could not help himself from snapping in the air with his jaws at the sight of the flow of coffee. Mrs. Samsa saw Gregor’s movements but she could not make sense of it, so it caused her to scream anew. “Oh, my God, what is he doing?” “Oh, my God, I think he is going to kill me!” thought the mother as she fled from the table, and fell into the arms of Gregor’s father. The chief clerk had already reached the stairs of the entrance hall and Gregor did not want him to leave if he knew that he would be left without a job for this dreary situation, so he made a run for him. While the chief clerk tried to quickly leave he noticed that Gregor’s dome like body was shifting and his antenna was moving to his direction. He did not want to be touched by this hideous creature, so, he leapt down several steps at once and disappeared, while his shouts resounded all around the staircase.  Gregor’s father realized that immediate action was going to have be taken to extinguish this situation. “I don’t want this thing running around my house, it needs to get out,” thought the father. So, he seized the chief clerk’s stick in his right hand, picked up a large newspaper from the table with his left, and used them to drive Gregor back into his room, stamping his foot at him as he went.

Although Gregor tried to reason with his father, his father could not understand him and wanted him to leave. He no longer considered Gregor as a son but as a repulsive pest that needed to die. Across the room, Gregor’s mother could not deal with the present ordeal and felt she was going in a state of unconsciousness, so she pulled open a window, leant far out of it, and pressed her hands to her face breathing in and out.

“Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out you filthy pest,” thought Gregor’s father as he hissed and stamped his feet to drive Gregor back to his room. Gregor had never had any practice in moving backwards and was only able to go very slowly. He did not want to get a fatal blow to his back or head from the stick in his father’s hand, so he quickly and anxiously tried to turn himself around. As this process went very slowly, Gregor’s father was becoming impatient. “I don’t want this vermin in my sight anymore,” thought the father. So, he used the tip of his stick to give directions from a distance on which way to turn as he kept hissing at Gregor to get back in his room. When Gregor had finally turned around, he was pleased that his head was in front of the doorway, but then he saw that it was too narrow, and his body was too broad to get through it without difficulty. “Finally, he is almost out of my sight, he needs to hurry up,” thought the father. In the father’s present mood, he did not have the idea that Gregor was unable to open the double doors. He was merely fixed on the idea that Gregor should get back into his room as quickly as possible.

As the father watched Gregor desperately trying to push himself back into his room, he became more impatient and the hissing became louder and louder in an attempt to drive Gregor all the more harder back into his room despite his current paralysis. With the little strength that Gregor had, he pushed harder into his room but then one side of his body lifted itself making him lay at an angle in the doorway. One flank of Gregor’s body was scrapped on the white door causing him to get painfully injured. His scrap left vile brown flecks on the door and soon he was stuck fast and was not able to move at all by himself; his little legs along one side hung quivering in the air while those on the other side were pressed painfully against the ground. The father could not accept Gregor’s off putting nature of being an insect and the flecks on the door made him more appalled of the situation. “This is so horrendous, I can’t take this anymore,” thought the father, so he gave a hefty shove behind Gregor and released him from where he was held. This sent Gregor flying, while heavily bleeding, deep into his room. “And good riddance to you,” thought the father as he slammed shut the door with his stick, and finally, all was quiet.

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Project #1

Project 1- A Rose For Emily

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I will be Re-telling the story of “A Rose For Emily” in Tobe’s point of view. Tobe is the negro servant that has been by Emily’s side since the passing of her father.  Through everything that has happened, tobe seems like a loyal servant.

I’ve been on Miss Emily’s side since i was a young man. When her father passed, Mr. Grierson, i came and ran errands for her. After her fathers death, it took a bit for her to accept her father was dead. She didn’t want to allow anyone in the house to dispose of the body. It took three days for Miss Emily to give in and allow for her father to be buried. Miss Emily was a lonely woman. She didn’t go out, talked to nobody but me sometimes, and for her age, she wasn’t married yet. Mr. Grierson is to blame for that. Any man that presented himself to his daughter wasn’t good enough for him. Miss Emily thought china painting classes for awhile. Must’ve been a hobby because thanks to Colonel Sartoris, she didn’t have to pay taxes. Most people don’t understand because they don’t know her, so they judge.  Miss Emily has been through alot, seems like i’m the only one that see’s that. I felt some what happy for her when she started hanging out with a fellow named Homer Baron. I didn’t know much about him except that he works in construction, and moves alot. One day i was on my way to the market to pick up a few things for Miss Emily. I heard chatter that concerned Mr. Baron. There were two light skinned women, one was wearing a light blue dress with a matching hat, the other had a yellow dress, with matching ribbons in her hair. “Have you noticed Miss Emily and Homer Baron hanging out lately?” asked the woman in blue. “I have, i think it’s wonderful she’s finally getting out the house.” stated the woman in yellow.  “But isn’t Homer gay? i’ve heard he goes out to drink with younger men at the Elk’s Club.” said the woman in blue. “I heard something like that too, also that he’s not a marrying man.” said the woman in yellow. “I just hope everything goes well between them, Miss Emily has been through enough.” said the woman in blue. Amazed by what i just heard i rushed to Miss Emily’s home to inform her of what i just heard. She didn’t seem surprised nor upset by what i just told her. Miss Emily just sat there with a emotionless face , as if in her mind she finally snapped. “I’ll be right back.” said Miss Emily. Where are you going? i replied. She didn’t say anything, just walked right through the door. I was concerned so i followed her. She walked into a drugstore, and i saw her talking to the druggist. I’m looking inside from outside the drugstore so i wasn’t quite clear what she was telling him. I saw the druggist go to the back, but he never came back. A negro boy came out and handed her Arsenic. Why would Miss Emily need poison?, i thought to myself. We don’t have any rats, i made sure of that. I headed back home and waited for her there. Once Miss Emily walked through the door i jumped on her with questions. “What’s the poison for?” i said. She didn’t say anything. “Are you okay? you’ve been acting weird since the news i gave you.” She didn’t respond, just looked at me with a scary stare and walked into her room and closed the door shut. After that Miss Emily and I didn’t speak. I would just come in and out the house running errands for her. She wouldn’t permit me in her at all. When she wasn’t there she would lock it so i couldn’t get in. I wonder what she’s hiding from me. A few weeks has passed and i was smelling something horrible from Miss Emily’s room. I couldn’t stand not knowing what was back there, so i broke in while she was bathing. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Homer Baron’s body was laying on the left side of the body. He looked nasty and decomposed. As i was turning around to leave the room, Miss Emily appeared in front of me. I was completely horrified because i thought she was gonna kill me next. Instead she shoved me softly out the room and closed her door. I was in shock because of what Miss Emily has done. She was going about her day as if nothing happened. She wasn’t even worried about me telling someone. And she was right, i  didn’t tell anyone. I wanted to because this makes me an accomplice, but i cared for Miss Emily too much. I feared what would happen to her. Years has passed and we still haven’t spoken a word, Homer’s body was still laying next to her, and she was very ill.  Just before she died  she thanked me for everything i’ve done for her. After her father died, i was the only family she had left, even though we weren’t blood. I informed Miss Emily’s cousin of her death, they informed the town and planned to pay they’re respects. The next day i let everyone in the house. As they were entering, i was leaving through the back door. It was time for me to leave and move on with my life. Miss Emily was a kind woman, i just hate what lack of love pushed her to become.

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draft, Week 6

‘Little Salem Village’

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‘Young Goodman Brown’ by  – 3rd person limited

 

‘Little Salem Village’ First person narrator – The Old Man

 

Today is the day. I take the people of this Salem village and convert them, and expel the ‘love of god’ out of them. This may not be a simple task, since this village is heavily religious, but everyone is capable of being corrupt. This could be proved by the amount of people I already converted. Getting the ones with the weakest faith in god was definitely a good start. Have them attend my gatherings, go back to their village and help manipulate the citizens, making them easier to catch for me when the time comes. If I could maintain this cycle, the people of Salem will be under my arms, and most importantly, my control.

 

Now, I was on my way to the gathering in the middle of the forest. Then I laid my eyes upon this young lady with a knotted pink ribbon tying her hair, frightened out of her skin. I try to remember if I ever saw this one in the Salem town I found the others, but I can’t recall. I observe her from my hiding spot to hear what she is talking about to herself.

 

“A dear God, please let him be safe.” she said to herself. “Why did I ever let him out of my hands and make him go in to these dreadful woods? If only a persuaded him more vigorously…”

 

Who is this man she speaks of? I haven’t encountered anyone in my journey yet. I need to know. When she approached the tree I was stealthy waiting behind, I approach her with a greeting:

 

“Hello, you seem to be los-”

 

“AAHHHH” she screamed, as she back peddled, tripping over a tree branch and falling on the ground. Little did she know, she wasn’t alone after all. She’s lonely, afraid and helpless. This will be easier than I thought.

 

“Oh, Im so sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am.”

 

“Get away from me!” she said. “Who are you?!? and-and why are you following me???”

 

“Im sorry to have startled you ma’am. If there is anything I could do to help you, I’ll gladly give you a helping hand. Here, let me help you up.” As I extend my hand she starts to crawl back, avoiding me.

 

“Im looking for my husband. Have you seen him?”

 

“Can’t say I have. I’ve been traveling alone for a couple hours. What does he look like?”

 

“He’s a-” she paused and started reading me, trying to figure me out.

 

“Here, let me help you”

 

I extend my staff to her so she could get up. Not knowing what powers I possess in my priceless staff, she grabs on and her demeanor, her trust towards me changed.

 

“Wh-why thank you for helping me, sir.”

 

“No problem at all. So, you never told me why you’re in this dreadful forest ”

 

“Well I trying to look for my husband, Mr. Goodman Brown. You and him kinda look alike.”

 

As we walk side to side, I tell her where this gathering is, and I part ways with young Faith, with her pink ribbon which now has a bit of dirt on it when she fell during our run-in.

 

I see a figure walking alone. This has to be him. Mr. Goodman Brown. I sneak towards him to hear what he’s muttering to himself.

 

“-leaving her like this. She tells me she’s afraid and I run off it to this forest? Leaving her to her nightmares? Maybe I sho-.”

 

He stops walking and looks around him. I know he can’t see me, but it seems like he feels my existence.

 

“I feel there is evil hidden within these woods. For all I know, an evil presence may be upon me right now.”

 

He feverishly looks behind him every couple steps, until I present myself as another lonely traveler. If his loved one was as easy to convert, he will be in my hands in no time. If I somehow fail, I guarantee, his experience with me will stay with him for the rest of his life…

 

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draft, Week 6

Farewell to my duty.

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Ever since Miss Emily’s father passed away, she had been staying in her house for years. I was the only connection to the town- but only when I need grocery or something for Miss Emily or for the house. When Homer Barron, a foreman of the construction company, came to the town for paving the sidewalks, Miss Emily started to come out to the town, driving in the yellow-wheeled buggy on Sunday afternoons. I saw the town people were surprised that she actually came out to the town. Not only that, but also it might be a shock that Miss Grierson, with dignity of her family and noblesse oblige, came out to the town because of this day laborer nigger like me. There cannot be any relationship between a nigger laborer and a noble family in any places in the world – even if the Grierson is being corrupted and Miss Emily might be the last person in the Grierson, I think. I grew up with Miss Emily in this house, and I saw her going through hard time after Mr. Grierson passed away, and even before that. I think I knew her feeling better than anyone else because I was the only one who had been staying with her in this house for years. It was just my duty that I have to take care of her and do anything to protect her, but I also have loyalty and compassion to her. So when the people in the town talked about Miss Grierson and Homer Barron, I pretended I didn’t hear anything as I’ve done for my whole life.

Miss Emily might know what other people in town would think about her falling in love with Homer Baron. I was sure that she cared about the town’s thoughts when I saw her getting poison. It was arsenic. She even went out to the town to get the poison by herself. If it was for rats, she would’ve told me to get it. I knew she got the poison because of Homer Barron but I didn’t know how she would use it. Is she going to kill herself? But I know she is not the type of person to kill herself because she cares about other people’s eyes. She is the tradition and the noble in Jefferson, and she can’t just kill herself because of love for a Northern laborer. But I cannot ask or tell her what to do because I am not in the position; luckily, regardless of my concern, she didn’t use the poison for herself.

Later Miss Emily ordered a man’s toilet set in silver with the letters H.B. on each piece. She also bought a complete outfit of men’s clothing, including a nightshirt. I wondered what she was planning to do; even her two cousins came over to the house. On the day the cousins came to the house, I overheard that they came because the town sent them a letter saying it would be a disgrace to the town and a bad example to the young people if Miss Emily and Homer Barron marry. When I looked at them, – they didn’t see me looking at them because I pretended I was just serving them a cup of tea – I felt like they were little different than Miss Emily. They looked full of egoism and prejudice that they were not even considering Miss Emily as a member of family. Maybe that was why they didn’t let me be next to Miss Emily when they were talking. And maybe, that was the reason why they left back to their home because they think nothing would happen. And even if anything happen to Miss Emily, it wouldn’t matter to them.

After the two ladies left, I had to clean a room in upstairs and furnish the room as for a bridal and Homer Barron came to the house couple of days later. I opened the door for him at dusk, Miss Emily, with sad smile on her face, greeted him. She took him to the bridal room, and that was the last time I saw Homer Barron.

It has been years now, and Miss Emily’s corpse is laid in this house and I know some other corpse is still in the abandoned room. In this morning I announced the town people that there is going to be funeral held for Miss Emily today. There are people coming: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house. Poor my lady, poor Miss Emily, I thought. She had been a tradition, a history, and the last real lady in this town. But now she is laid dead, and the whole town doesn’t look like they really came for Miss Emily’s farewell sincerely. How hollow and meaningless life she had lived! But now, after I’ve done with all of my duty for Miss Emily, after all these years in this dreadful house, I am leaving the house through this back door, and I say farewell to this house, to this town, and to Miss Emily.

 

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draft, Week 6

The Story of An Hour – Josephine view

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It was a nice beautiful afternoon, when my sister’s friend Richard came over to my house and told me about the news of my sister’s husband Brently had died in a railroad accident. “How could this have happen,” I said with a sadden voice. “Have you told Louise about this yet?” Richard just stood there and finally said “How could I break this news to her without breaking her heart.” “I was hoping you can tell your sister about her husband,” Richard had said with a troubled face.

We went to Louise’s house to tell her about the tragic news about her husband. On the way to her house we had discussed about how we should break the news about her husband and that we had to take caution on the effect that this will have on Louise. As we approached Louise’s house tears started to come down from my eyes, as I was afraid that this would be too much of a burden that Louise can handle. After calming down and the tears have stopped, we rang the bell on Louise’s house.

The door opens and Louise greets us with a smile, “Hello there Josephine and Richard.” When we go inside we went into the living room and Louise brings us a cup of tea. As I was sitting there with Louise, I started to feel tears coming down again when I think about breaking this news to Louise. I resolved myself to tell Louise the news as I was drinking the tea. When I finished the cup of tea Louise brought, she asked if I wanted more tea. “Louise, you have to listen to me carefully now,” as Louise listens with a calm face “ Your……Husband……..Brently………he was in a railroad accident today.” “Richard found out the news today when he was at the newspaper office and Brently’s name was on the list of those that have been killed.”

Louise calm face suddenly turned pale and she was just sitting in the chair with no expression. Then she started crying like she was a newborn baby and I held her in my arms. Louise cried in my arms for a while and when she stopped crying she slowly went upstairs to her room. As I was following her up to the room, she closed the door and locked it before I can go inside of it.

I waited outside of Louise room, but I did not hear any noise from inside the room and I started to worry about Louise’s health. I started to bang on the door and yell “Louise, are you ok?” “Please open the door.” There was no response from Louise so I looked through the keyhole of the door and I can briefly see Louise sitting on a chair near the window. Louise seemed to be lifeless as she did not move at all. My worry started to increase, as I called for Richard.

“Richard……Richard,” as I yelled the loudest I could. Richard came running up the stairs wondering what was going on. “Louise is just sitting on the chair near the window, I’m worried that her heart is giving her troubles.” As I told this to Richard I asked if he can call the doctor over and find a way to open the door. When Richard went downstairs to call the doctor, I suddenly hear a faint noise from the room and I put my ear closer to the door. “Free! Body and soul free!” I can faintly hear Louise saying this.

I started to panic and wondering what this message can mean so I kneed down and put my mouth by the key hole and started to beg Louise to open the door. “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door—you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door.” Louise yells back answering my cry for her to open the door “Go away. I am not making myself ill.” I started to worry more and kept wondering what she was doing inside that room. I yell for Richard “Richard have you found a way to open the door yet?” Suddenly the door opens and Louise comes out of the room. “Louise,” I yelled with a worried face but she seem to not notice my cry for her.

As Louise came out of the room, she did not have a face of one that just lost her husband. Louise looked like she came out of a fight with the devil himself and had the face of a goddess that won the battle with the devil. Louise helped me off my knees and held me by the waist.
“Let’s go downstairs,” she said to me with happy face. As we went down the stairs, Richard was waiting for us and said “Louise, are you ok?”

As we walked down the stairs the door suddenly opened and a familiar body figure was at the door.

“Brently!” I yelled as loud as I could. I turned around to look at Louise, but her face turned pale as seen a ghost. Richard tried to block Brently from Louise’s view, but it was too late. Brently stood there with a confused look on his face, as he had no clue on what was
happening.

Then a thud sound could be heard and Louise had fallen to the floor. “Louise!” I cried. Louise showed no sign of breathing. “Richard where is the doctor?” I asked while panicking. A few minutes later the doctor shows up and claimed that Louise had died of a heart disease.

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draft, Week 6

The Yellow Wallpaper, John’s Story

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The dream is finally coming together. The beautiful wife, the darling baby, and now we are finally able to afford the renovations that we’ve been speaking about. Sure it’s expensive, and we’ll have to be away for the entire summer, but it couldn’t have worked out better. I found a nice rental home for the full three months, and got a job at the nearby clinic.

There’s just one problem. Ever since the baby has come along, Jane seems a little on edge, and perhaps a little depressed. This little “vacation” will give her a chance to get some fresh air and clear her head. In fact, the cleaner air will benefit her and the baby, such fragile things.

We finally arrive at the house, and it really is perfect. It is set back from the road and is on quite a large property. It has the most beautiful gardens; Jane and the baby can spend hours out there in the wonderful summer air. Jane immediately says the house is haunted, but I know that is just her depression talking. It was sitting empty for a couple of years but that just led to the price being reduced, not to having ghosts in the attic.

We finally got settled. We chose the room on the topmost floor. It has lots of windows, providing plenty of fresh air and sunshine, practically the cure for her symptoms of depression! At first she wanted a room on the ground floor, but I talked her out of that in a hurry. Although she did make a good point about the wallpaper-  it really is ugly. Maybe I’ll get around to repapering the room this summer.

Jane has been complaining about her “illness” as of late. What a silly girl. Illness? This is a mild case of depression brought on by the stress of giving birth. I’ve seen it before and will no doubt see it again. How lucky she is to have a physician as a husband! With fresh air and lots of rest she’ll be back to her good old self in no time. She wants to write, and talks about visiting her cousins, but that must wait. Rest is what she needs now.

The work at the clinic is really interesting, and challenging. It’s really a shame I have to spend so much time there, sometimes staying late into the night. I’m just glad that Jane is on the mend. This wonderful air is really doing her well. She does have some trouble sleeping at night, but it’s just her nerves. It’ll pass soon.

My, how Jane can go on about the wallpaper. She speaks of its crazy patterns, angles, and curves, and how it makes her nervous. I’d love to repaper it, but we are so very busy at the clinic these days. Besides, to repaper it would be giving in to her wild imaginations and make her fantasies more real. It’s really a great room- all but the wallpaper.  But it’s not like we live here. It’s only for a couple more months. I’m sure she understands that.

Again, Jane speaks about visiting with her cousins, and again I tell her she needs more time to rest. Her cousins Henry and Julia are very excitable folks and that is too much for her right now. I’m also having suspicions that she might be writing. It’s a good thing my sister was able to come out and help around the house. I’ll be telling her to keep an eye out for Jane’s notebook. Jane needs her rest, we are so lucky to have found such a great house for her to recuperate.

After the fourth of July, Jane’s mother and sister spent some time here along with her sister’s kids. I thought the company would do her good, but she seems very tired out. If she’s still not 100% by the time we go back home, I’ll take her to see Doctor Weir Mitchell. He has been known to treat hysteria very effectively. But in the meantime I’m very glad Janie was able to stay, and help us out this summer. Jane has to focus on getting healthy, not on housework, and caring for the baby.

What a busy summer this is turning out to be, there is always something going on at the clinic, with lots of late nights. And when I get home, there is Jane’s silliness to deal with. Again she asked me about visiting her cousins, but made my argument for me by breaking out in tears during our conversation. They’ll be plenty of time to visit once she gets better, now she needs to rest.

Last night I awoke to find Jane creeping around the room in the middle of the night. She decided that was the time to tell me she wanted to go home. She can be so silly. Where would we go? The house is still not ready. In only three weeks we’d be leaving anyway. In the meantime she is getting noticeably better. She seems to think that physically it might seem so, but mentally she is suffering. It is just that kind of thinking that is making her feel that way. After speaking about it, I’m sure she feels the same way I do about it. If she puts those thoughts out of her head she’ll be better in no time.

Jane seems to be doing much better, and is really getting her rest. Jane and I had a laugh today about her getting better in spite of the wallpaper. I’m pleased to see she is getting over those ridiculous fantasies.

Boy am I tired. After spending the afternoon packing and getting ready to return home, and spending the entire night at the clinic, I hope to sneak in a short nap before traveling back home.

Finally, I arrive home and head to bed. Luckily, it’s bolted to the floor and does not need to be moved. As I approach the room, I notice something very wrong; for one thing, the door is locked, and from within there are tearing sounds and maniacal laughter. “Unlock the door,” I yell to Jane. But to no avail. The strange noises from inside the room continue. I call to Jennie to bring me an axe; I must get Jane out of there. Then I hear her speak. In a very gentle voice she says, “John dear, the key is down by the front steps, under a plantain leaf.” 

She is just being silly again. “Open the door, my darling,” I pleaded. But again and again she says the key is downstairs. I send Jennie to go check before taking the axe to the door and, indeed, she comes back with the key.

Bracing myself, I open the door, and there is my wife creeping around the room amidst the ruins of the wallpaper. I call to her ask her what she is doing. She turns to me and I will never forget her face at that moment, the crazy look in her eyes. “I’ve got out at last,” she said, “in spite of you and Jane. And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!”

The world starts going dark. What is she talking about? I have a very clear thought just before hitting the ground. That crazy woman creeping about is not my wife, she looks very much like her, but that is not her!

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