Author’s Note: After reading the first three chapters of Jekyll and Hyde, I’ve come to the assumption, although it may be incorrect, that Jekyll and Hyde are indeed the same person, living in the same body; created to express the unknown demons that lie underneath an innocent human’s heart. I’ve created this piece to illustrate the evil’s that lie within us, even if we fail to acknowledge their existence. We want to believe that we are wholly good; however, even the seemingly flawless, have an underlying sin. When we see a car accident, surrounded by ambulances and paramedics, we all fight the urge to look because we are intrigued by the evilness of it. Although it seems to be a small act, the evil and curiosity within, project themselves and create a dual human being. My goal in this piece was to demonstrate the difficulties that may tie into the effects of a dual human being; one who does one thing, but acts as another.
Awakening to the mind penetrating annoyance, rising recklessly from my forgiving sheets; wrapping myself in its warm embrace, I prepare for what has yet to come. Carelessly washing the sins, the sins of the night before, down the drain with the filth of my actions - the filth of my being - towards its unending descent in a suburban shower drain. Partially cleansed of my insecure state of mind, I step forth from the shower doors and glance at the mirrors ahead. The lights begin to flicker, I may have forgotten to pay the electric bill, but it was either that or groceries this month.
Rushing effortlessly through my morning routine, struggling to release myself from the comfort of my home – my sanctuary. Becoming the mold of the perfect human being I am expected to be. Too tight of clothes, caressing my thickening waist, faux tan, faux nails, faux lashes – I’m fake. Acceptance from those whom I can’t even trust, they know my name, not my story, not the things that I’ve done. Portraying myself as a confident, happy being, coming home to a barren apartment, no father, no mother, no siblings to care for, or love me. I work various jobs, here and there, forcing myself through the struggles, hardships, and uncertainty of life. No one knows what I go through, the things that I face. So I pretend that I’m alright, pretend that I can solve life’s problems on my own.
But as I get ready for the day to come, basking in the fakeness of my beauty, the fakeness of my smile, I remind myself to be kind, for everyone we meet may be fighting a hard battle.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
An Occurrence in Huntsville, Alabama
**Author's Note: This is the story about a boy named Luke, a senior in high school, who's biggest struggle in life, was himself. With an alcoholic mother, and a father who was killed in Iraq, Luke separated himself from the rest of society, reliving the moments of his everlasting childhood. While sitting in class one afternoon, Luke's school goes into lock down mode, into what seems to be an over practiced drill, but turns into a moment that ends up changing his life, forever.**
I
A boy sat cross legged underneath his desk at his school in northern Alabama, looking out at the frightened students surrounding him. The boy’s back was slouched, his knees pressed against his face. The dog tags around his neck jingled with the warmth of his father's last remaining aura that comforted him like his father was still there beside him. Some students found comfort laying against the cold stone tiles that created the structure that they, their desks, their teacher and the rest of their school’s population utilized daily, yet a floor that created a footing for their executioner – a recent escapee of the Federal prison, directed by his own thoughts and crazed state of mind, which in civil life may have been dreamt in a nightmare, yet never drawn out in reality. At a short remove in the doorway of which he stood was a man dressed in the same attire, armed. He was a killer.
II
Luke Schultz was a slightly skewed boy, of a broken apart Alabama family. His father was brought to death by a pistol in the hands of the enemy, dropping instantly on the Iraqi grounds. He knew firsthand how painful death could be, not only for the victim but the family as well and the impact on life afterwards. His mother found relief from it all at the bottom of a vodka bottle, the circumstances of this nature, prevented him from taking place in any activity that caused him to remove himself from his bedroom and everlasting childhood.
One evening while Luke and his mother were sitting on a rustic bench near the entrance to his rundown home, a crackling voice came through the speakers on the radio and spoke of an escape from the Federal Prison. Luke’s mother was only too happy to elaborate on the subject, with the news she had heard that day at work. While she was rattling on, her son listened in to the radio announcer and inquired eagerly the news from the town.
III
As Luke Shultz dropped out the window he lost consciousness and was as one already dead. In this disposition he was awakened by a stabbing pain in his shoulder. Racing turmoil’s shot through every nerve in his body, triggering even the smallest of muscles; he is alive. Excruciating streams of fire spread from the point of impact, throughout his veins, filling his heart, his lungs, his soul. Subconsciously a feeling of lonesomeness filled his mind, leaving him only to think of himself, his actions, and to feel the feeling of torment. All at once, with terrible suddenness the light of the vast sun overtook him, pushing him further from the gates of heaven into the hands of Satan. He was mindful of his actions. Captured in an insightful dream, in which he was now merely a string puppet, without physical control, he meandered through unknown obstacles, like a child in a corn maze. Then all at once, with complete uncertainty the world around him flashed outward with the brightness of a million stars; a painful surge was in his eyes, and all was warm and bright. The mobility of his body was renewed; and he knew that the window was opened and he had wandered into the forest. He felt a presence beside him; he heard sounds surrounding him, urging him to keep running further and further into the unknown. “To be shot by a known murderer,” he thought, “that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be hunted. No; I will not be hunted by the powers of the unknown.”
His shoulder was throbbing and he found it horribly swollen. He saw his father –sitting upon a cloud, looking down on those below him. He looked the same as Luke had remembered. The same dark hair, dark brown eyes – features that could be found not only on his father, but on himself. “Hello father,” Luke called out, “I have been waiting for years to see you again. Why can I now?” His father looked in his direction, but gave no response, almost as if he couldn’t hear him. The vividness of the picture slowly began to fade away. His father disappeared as quickly as he had come. “Goodbye father. I’ll see you soon.” A surging pain strikes once again at his shoulder, outbursts of light and sound send him crashing down, his head spinning with uncontrollable might – then all is darkness and silence.
Luke Schultz was dead; his body with a penetrating bullet, lay lifeless from end to end, below a desk in the Huntsville Science Lab.
Mimic Lines:
•"He was conscious of motion. Encompassed in a luminous cloud, of which he was now merely the fiery heart, without material substance, he swung through unthinkable arcs of oscillation, like a vast pendulum. Then all at once, with terrible suddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise of a loud splash; a frightful roaring was in his ears, and all was cold and dark. The power of thought was restored; he knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream."
•"To be hanged and drowned," he thought, "that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be shot. No; I will not be shot; that is not fair."
•"Peyton Fahrquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge."
I
A boy sat cross legged underneath his desk at his school in northern Alabama, looking out at the frightened students surrounding him. The boy’s back was slouched, his knees pressed against his face. The dog tags around his neck jingled with the warmth of his father's last remaining aura that comforted him like his father was still there beside him. Some students found comfort laying against the cold stone tiles that created the structure that they, their desks, their teacher and the rest of their school’s population utilized daily, yet a floor that created a footing for their executioner – a recent escapee of the Federal prison, directed by his own thoughts and crazed state of mind, which in civil life may have been dreamt in a nightmare, yet never drawn out in reality. At a short remove in the doorway of which he stood was a man dressed in the same attire, armed. He was a killer.
II
Luke Schultz was a slightly skewed boy, of a broken apart Alabama family. His father was brought to death by a pistol in the hands of the enemy, dropping instantly on the Iraqi grounds. He knew firsthand how painful death could be, not only for the victim but the family as well and the impact on life afterwards. His mother found relief from it all at the bottom of a vodka bottle, the circumstances of this nature, prevented him from taking place in any activity that caused him to remove himself from his bedroom and everlasting childhood.
One evening while Luke and his mother were sitting on a rustic bench near the entrance to his rundown home, a crackling voice came through the speakers on the radio and spoke of an escape from the Federal Prison. Luke’s mother was only too happy to elaborate on the subject, with the news she had heard that day at work. While she was rattling on, her son listened in to the radio announcer and inquired eagerly the news from the town.
III
As Luke Shultz dropped out the window he lost consciousness and was as one already dead. In this disposition he was awakened by a stabbing pain in his shoulder. Racing turmoil’s shot through every nerve in his body, triggering even the smallest of muscles; he is alive. Excruciating streams of fire spread from the point of impact, throughout his veins, filling his heart, his lungs, his soul. Subconsciously a feeling of lonesomeness filled his mind, leaving him only to think of himself, his actions, and to feel the feeling of torment. All at once, with terrible suddenness the light of the vast sun overtook him, pushing him further from the gates of heaven into the hands of Satan. He was mindful of his actions. Captured in an insightful dream, in which he was now merely a string puppet, without physical control, he meandered through unknown obstacles, like a child in a corn maze. Then all at once, with complete uncertainty the world around him flashed outward with the brightness of a million stars; a painful surge was in his eyes, and all was warm and bright. The mobility of his body was renewed; and he knew that the window was opened and he had wandered into the forest. He felt a presence beside him; he heard sounds surrounding him, urging him to keep running further and further into the unknown. “To be shot by a known murderer,” he thought, “that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be hunted. No; I will not be hunted by the powers of the unknown.”
His shoulder was throbbing and he found it horribly swollen. He saw his father –sitting upon a cloud, looking down on those below him. He looked the same as Luke had remembered. The same dark hair, dark brown eyes – features that could be found not only on his father, but on himself. “Hello father,” Luke called out, “I have been waiting for years to see you again. Why can I now?” His father looked in his direction, but gave no response, almost as if he couldn’t hear him. The vividness of the picture slowly began to fade away. His father disappeared as quickly as he had come. “Goodbye father. I’ll see you soon.” A surging pain strikes once again at his shoulder, outbursts of light and sound send him crashing down, his head spinning with uncontrollable might – then all is darkness and silence.
Luke Schultz was dead; his body with a penetrating bullet, lay lifeless from end to end, below a desk in the Huntsville Science Lab.
Mimic Lines:
•"He was conscious of motion. Encompassed in a luminous cloud, of which he was now merely the fiery heart, without material substance, he swung through unthinkable arcs of oscillation, like a vast pendulum. Then all at once, with terrible suddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise of a loud splash; a frightful roaring was in his ears, and all was cold and dark. The power of thought was restored; he knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream."
•"To be hanged and drowned," he thought, "that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be shot. No; I will not be shot; that is not fair."
•"Peyton Fahrquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge."
Friday, June 4, 2010
Summer 2010
Author's note: This took forever to make; starting with the collage on the left and getting all of the pictures to look good together, then blending the picture on the right into the collage, and rounding the courners on picnik. It took awhilee, but I think it turned out pretty cool. :) Can't wait for summerr. :)
Saturday, May 29, 2010
And this is how it ends.. :/
Author's Note: Frienship breakups suck. End of story. :(
Thinking back to how things were,
Reminiscing, everything's a blur
Deep dark secrets that we'd never share
Why did this happen? It just isn't fair
What did I do wrong?
Why's this happening to me?
I thought you were my friend,
Now it's easier to see:
You gossip for hours
Not the way we did
This time it's about me
About things I never once did
Forever and always
Not anymore
We're miles away
From how we were before.
Thinking back to how things were,
Reminiscing, everything's a blur
Deep dark secrets that we'd never share
Why did this happen? It just isn't fair
What did I do wrong?
Why's this happening to me?
I thought you were my friend,
Now it's easier to see:
You gossip for hours
Not the way we did
This time it's about me
About things I never once did
Forever and always
Not anymore
We're miles away
From how we were before.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Author's Symbolism
Author's Note: Here is a response to Mark Haddon's novel, The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-time. This response is mainly about the symbolism in this novel and the other novels that we have read. It points out the meaning behind that symbolism, and the people involved with it.
In each of the many novels we have read throughout the course of the past two years, we have seen many different author's takes on the lives we live, with their use of symbolism. In the novel The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-time, Mark Haddon's main character struggles from autism, making me wonder what exactly his inspiration was when writing this novel. In the first few sentences of the novel, an innocent poodle is killed, which in my opinion is showing us that those who refuse to believe in the possibilities in life, are those who are too scared to embrace their true feelings and those who are not strong enough to live with the truth.
In each of the many novels we have read throughout the course of the past two years, we have seen many different author's takes on the lives we live, with their use of symbolism. In the novel The Curious Incident of the dog in the Night-time, Mark Haddon's main character struggles from autism, making me wonder what exactly his inspiration was when writing this novel. In the first few sentences of the novel, an innocent poodle is killed, which in my opinion is showing us that those who refuse to believe in the possibilities in life, are those who are too scared to embrace their true feelings and those who are not strong enough to live with the truth.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
:D
Author's Note: This is what I made instead of doing my homework the other night. Haha it's a jumble of some of my favorite quotes. :)
Life Without Purpose
To read my essay response to Graham Greene's novel, The Power and the Glory, visit my essay blog. The link is at the top of my blog, and be sure to give me your feedback.
Thanks :)
-Taylor
Thanks :)
-Taylor
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