Rain dribbled down the gravestones, down the monuments, down the men with bowed heads. The sky was trademark English grey, the sort of colourless, dreary sky that so many cynics and sceptics had been born under, the grass was less of a green colour, and more of a dead brown, and the poppies had bowed their head, weighed down by the drizzle, and out of respect for the dead. The only things that looked clean and not devoid of life were the gravestones: white marble, drenched in rain, almost gleaming. The gravestones didn’t slump like their onlookers, with their backs arched and legs bent, but rather stood upright, perfectly balanced, in neat, faultless rows. Each row was perfect, neat, and even rather beautiful. There was something breath-taking about the thousands and thousands of rows of white slabs, all anonymous and impersonal, standing at attention.
The rain pattered on the umbrellas as the village church chimed out the eleventh hour. One of the men with hunched
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The man’s hand shook, slightly nudging another equally hurt man to his side, and his foot started to tap out a different tempo to the bell’s chimes. A mother ushered her child closer to her side, glancing fearfully at the shaking man. ‘Typical’ he thought, jolting at the ninth chime. He kept his eyes focused on the teardrops dribbling down the marble, trying to ignore a child grumbling to it’s father on how the man with one arm to his side was scaring him and the father’s shushing, not out of respect for the others, but out of fear for his impeccable social image.
Tenth chime. The hunched man met eyes with the veteran to his side. He didn’t know him, he had seen him perhaps twice, wandering around the neighbouring town, hobbling on his crutch, scaring families away with his hacked off leg. They both shared a look, a look that had been branded on the faces of all who had been herded off to France like cattle to a butcher’s, and glanced back at the white, dead
The book the I am reading is called Dead And Gone, By Norah McClintock. Furthermore the book is about an 14 year old boy named Mike who's parents have died and know has to live with his foster parent John Riel. In the book Mike has to serve community service for stealing CD's. Working at the community center Mike meets a girl who's mother got murdered, And Riel knows something about the murder because he was an ex police officer. During this time, the police had found a body that mite of been Emily's mother. The main theme of the book is crime, murder, drama, adventure, and thriller.
Although different than the metaphorical graveyard of the Mississippi, the setting of the cemetery is similarly portrayed as a place of instability, as evident through the imagery of “the landscape blurred and waving.” The “weeds and grass” that have appeared around the gravesite adds to the apparent sense of constant change. The boundaries between nature and the human subjects present in the poem become increasingly dissolved by the fourth stanza: Trethewey tells of ants having “brought up soil [from the grave] of which [her mother] will be part” (Trethewey 43). Her mother, despite being laid to rest in the ground and becoming “part” of it, is nevertheless being “brought up” to the poet’s reality in a way makes it so that she is unable to properly mourn her
During the current Easter break, I ventured to Denver, Colorado with two others. The day after our arrival, I broke away from the group for a short period of time to visit Riverside Cemetery. Peering through the cemetery’s aligned headstones as if they were rows of filled bookshelves, my pupils skimmed from one headstone to the next, searching for an appealing name to take home to investigate like it was a book to check out from the library.
Their corpses lay among the poppies and forget-me-nots. Nature’s cruelty was shown as the sun shone brightly, a cool breeze now and then. A beautiful landscape littered with blood. Somewhere families waited in vain for their loved ones to come back. But they never would. These men were now meat for the birds.Their eyes were as still as their body. Their souls long departed to walk with their ancestors. The battle was lost. The enemy had won. The corpses lay there to rot. So cold. The life that had kept them alive until now, Gone. And they were now safe from the dangers lurking in the shadows. No harm could come to them
Medieval China, as seen in the Stories from a Ming Collection, was characterized by distinct separations between men and women’s abilities, typical old fashioned family structure, and a desire to advance their social status. Throughout all the stories in this book, it dives deep into different aspects of how men and women are treated, how families were structured and how that affects their lives, as well as the values these people held. A very common trend in the stories was how different men and women were treated and the limitations they may or may not had.
Pigpen and Weir are fired at an August band meeting yet they continue to perform at gigs. That november all six member of the Dead set off on tour having been reunited by Pigpen’s gal, Vee, suffering a stroke. With Pigpen still technically fired, Tom Constanten took over on keyboard and this moved Pigpen to conga drum. The Dead somehow found themselves along with some Hells Angels and Diggers a monk in London on a trip that would be known later as “The London Run”. They arrived at Apple, The Beatles's headquarters. Richard Nixon is elected and from that year on, they would play more than a hundred shows a year for the next several years
O’Brien culminates The Things They Carried with “The Lives of the Dead,” which includes a story about a girl named Linda that is at first seemingly unrelated to the overall plot. O’Brien discusses the story of Linda, a girl who he fell in love with in elementary school who succumbed to cancer. He had a deep connection with her, and found himself relishing sleep so he could dream endlessly about Linda. O’Brien then connects this story to those revolving the occurrences of Vietnam. He reveals yet another purpose of telling war stories: not to simply show readers what war in Vietnam was like, but to “revive…that which is absolute and unchanging” (O’Brien 224). Telling war stories serves as a way of “making the dead seem not quite so dead” (O’Brien
This is Samantha galindo from A&P 1, I feel as though ,earlier when we spoke, I was being rude about the way I was talking about my grades. I wanted to make sure I didn't make you upset or make you feel uncomfortable and think I was asking for a grade bump. It's just that I have been panicking lately since I do need to make a 70 In the class to pass my high school course. I am not asking for extra credit since I am aware that you have given the class many chances for extra credit and it is my fault for not keeping myself in check with the way I was studying and I also know that the grade I get is the grade I deserve. I would like to say sorry if I did perhaps do something that displeased you I some way.
Silently they stand, tall, strong pillars of memory in a seemingly long since forgotten world. Rows upon rows of white marble glisten in the first rays of the rising sun. The shimmer of morning frost still graces their elegant arches as the brisk air begins to take on a slightly warmer tone. In this quiet hour, not quite night, yet still not day, one lone man stands respectfully next to a small, almost insignificant grave stone. His head hangs slightly bowed, and except for the small hunch in his back, he stands at perfect attention.
Author’s always utilize their words carefully whenever they are writing their story, poem, or whatever it may be; every literary device has a purpose within the text. In the short story “The Dead” the author’s point of view, third person omniscient, and recurring theme of death lets the reader comprehend the character of Gabriel.
As the sun slowly set, the fading light of day found Ronon seated outside on the doorstep of his sister's house. With his hulking frame blocking the entrance, the brooding Satedan was an effective deterrent. Nobody was getting in; not until Dr. Keller gave the go ahead, of course.
In the novel The Dead, Gabriel Conroy, who is the nephew of Julia and Kate Morkan, is the main character of the story. One night he and his wife attended a party, which was given by his two aunts, and there were many other members in the party. The story revolves around their life and memories.Gabriel Conroy felt a blur between his soul and the dead. Some people died, but they are still alive because they have true love. Some people are alive, but they are still dead because they never love.I like the story for three reasons.
The power of the story has been very much a part of the lives of humans throughout time. The story is able to bring the past to the present and the dead to the living. The story can make the blind see. The story is able to make others feel for events in time that they have never experienced. The story has a profound effect on both the teller and the audience. As the audience is thought to be the beneficiary or the storytelling process, the teller is able to relive the times of old, or even teach a valuable lesson to his or her audience. Thus, allowing both parties to gain something intangible throughout this process. In “The Lives of the Dead,” O’Brien conveys the importance of storytelling and imagination by suggesting that the dead can be brought back to life in the minds of the people who hear it.
In this flash fiction, Lennon used imagery to guide readers into the plot. His descriptive language about the neglected graveyard helped readers picture how worn out the place was. It was “long inactive, [and] stood bordered by a crumbling wall”(Lennon 184). The road into the graveyard is filled with weeds and is only cut about once or twice a year. It is old and decrepit, as also shown by the “crooked and worn stones”. By indicating that the graveyard had not been cared for in a while shows that it did not have many outside visitors. Since no one is visiting the graves, readers can assume that the narrator has not been exposed to the stories of the dead. Because of this, the narrator often wonders who was buried and spent their time sitting in the cemetery, enjoying nature or thinking about life. This was the time when the narrator was ignorant about stories of the dead but also the most peaceful.
Hannah had a focused look as she explained her theory. “As a child, it is said that Edgar played with the 'little folk' and was alleged to have seen his deceased grandfather. He regarded them all as incorporeal because he could see through them if he looked hard enough. One day he said he heard the voice. He did reveal at the age of 10, while in his hut in the woods, he saw a woman with wings who told him that his prayers were answered. He was given something by this being he said, but he never told anyone what it was, Don’t you see, he was given the talisman?” Hannah said passionately.