Descriptive Essay On Buried Alive

     Some say that people never change. They may be right, but no one really knows. What people do know is that every living person has one thing in common, something that will never change. Everyone will die, there’s no way around it. Every “new” and “old” generation will succumb to the same ghastly fate. The differences in the “old” generation and “new” generation sometimes collide in life. The contrast between generations in James Joyce’s “The Dead” is similar to the contrast in the generations today. The “baby boomer” generation is the old fashioned generation preoccupied with hospitality and tradition, where as, “generation x” is the new generation, preoccupied with knowledge and intellect.

As I met her parents, the divine rulers of this land, BANG! Tragedy struck like an almighty hurricane. As I approached Emma's house from a distance I had begun to realize how insignificant I was compared to her family. Their house was absolutely marvelous; They lived in a prodigious mansion which was absolutely extravagant compared to the dump that I grew up in. A sparkling gold fence towered high like the Eifel tower and the path glistened as though it were the walkway to gods majestic temple. At the gates, stood strongly built men who had an extremely bellicose and obnoxious aura about them. As I etched closer, one of the guards aimed his gun at my face and questioned my presence. Loudly, he shouted "what is your business here filthy peasant? " I replied, "I am here to visit my beloved Emma." When I finally stepped inside the majestic palace that my beloved calls home, I was absolutely awestruck. As my beloved Emma led me down the endless halls of the palace, I felt a strong sense of euphoria. It was as though I was in heaven, being led toward the throne of an almighty god, by the most alluring angel. As the door slammed shut behind me, a figure approached from the distance, I felt an intense sense of panic. As the figure drew closer, I realized who it was; he was the supreme ruler who would ultimately decide if my never ending love would last. Nervously, I muttered the words "good evening your majesty"

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.

As she walks through the door after a long and exhausting day, Monee King is greeted with “Hey Mom!”, from her 4 beautiful teenage girls. She cooks an amazing dinner after cooking for others all day. They sit at the kitchen table and bow their heads in prayer. After a quiet “Amen” the table erupts in stories about each of the young girl's day. She listens and laughs while thinking “This wasn't easy but it was worth it”

With the fast-paced globalization together with the heightening political economic issues of the world, it has brought forth the illegal immigrants to cross the Sonoran Desert of Southern Arizona, or as the anthropologist, Jason De León describes it, The Land of the Open Graves. However, there is more to unauthorized immigration than what meets the eye. Scratching the surface of the case of undocumented migrants reveals that it rooted from the intensifying global inequality and crisis of the world. Accordingly, the author’s decision to vividly depict the brutality beyond words the undocumented migrants had suffered while crossing the borders allows the readers to see the bigger picture behind illegal immigration, preventing further unnecessary deaths of the innocents.

In the sea they are happy because they have their freedom and are far away from the harsh reality of war on the land. As soon as the bodies come on the land the verbs become rougher and impersonal "rolls" and "tread"…the personification of the bodies stops as soon as

‘Regardless of their social position, the characters in Burial Rites feel powerless.’ Do you agree?

Tombstone is a dynamic western adventure movie that is based around the life of Wyatt Earp, his family and close trusted friends. The main character in the movie is Wyatt Earp a successful lawman from Dodge City that has retired from law enforcement and moves to Tombstone, Arizona with his family. Wyatt, (Kurt Russell) his brothers Virgil (Sam Elliot), Morgan (Bill Paxton), and their wives arrive in Tombstone with the intention of establishing their homes there and starting a business and making their fortune. However, upon their arrival in Tombstone, Wyatt discovers that his long-time friend Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer) a southern gambler and expert gunfighter are there also. Doc is in Tombstone to make his fortune and seeking relief from tuberculosis; in a city made rich in the silver discovered there. The chance meeting of the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday, will demonstrate

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

The issue concerning the long battle between Native Americans and scientists seems to go back as long as scientists have begun studying the evolution of the human race. Generally the bones being study come from thousands of years ago and the Native Americans believe strongly that these remains belong to their ancestors. They do not agree at all with the scientists studying their remains and believe that their remains should be given a proper and final burial. In many Native American cultures, this final burial is the way to allow their ancestors to leave this world and to travel into the afterlife. It is a way of putting their soul to rest and allowing them to gracefully depart from this world. But if their remains are being studied and picked apart; the Native Americans believe that this will disturb the path of crossing into the afterlife and could potentially have a bad effect, as well as being very

Death, the momentary nature of life, the reminder that life can be taken from us at any given time. Anyone who is at the face of death wants to grasp onto any sort of hope, particularly being at war where there is a certainty of death. These are all ideas and themes explored in Kenneth Slessor’s sonnet, Beach Burial. The poem is not your typical glorified heroic notion of soldiers losing lives type of war poem, instead encompassing the uselessness of war and its dehumanisation of people. Slessor’s poem is a touching tribute to the soldiers who fought for Australia in World War II. The soldiers risking their lives fighting for their country were at the face of death, it was inevitable they were going to die serving their country. Beach Burial is an ideal inclusion in the Red Cross Anthology as the reader senses both hope and despair through a series of clear and observable literary techniques of theme, emotive language, poetic devices as well as imagery and symbolism. These techniques are used to convey his message, which can be analysed with a view to better accessing and therefore understanding the notions of hope and despair.

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.

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s

The cemetery I chose to visit and explore was the Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. On the way to the cemetery I couldn’t help but feel anxious. When I began to drive past the cemetery to its entrance, all I could see were miles and miles of headstones. It was eerie to say the least. As a kid, whenever my family would drive by a cemetery, my siblings and I would hold our breath until we passed so as to not breathe in the wandering, lost souls. Actually going into a cemetery to look around seemed counterintuitive, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to hold my breath for that long. It didn’t help that right when I entered those black gates that separated the living from the dead, clouds of smoke and ash permeated the air around me due to bodies being cremated on site.

To this day, I can still remember standing at the end of my driveway watching my mother arrive home from the bus stop. This day was different; she was not coming home empty handed. In fact, she had stopped at a yard sale on the way home and bought a prize for me, a doll named Suzy. This memory, from the age of two, embraces the story of my mother and my entire childhood. In Indianapolis, Indiana in September 1980, I was born to a single mother. Throughout her life, she worked for the phone company in downtown Indianapolis. Even though she raised us through hardships and despair, she always took the time to love my brother and me outwardly. Until second grade, I have no recollection of my father visiting more than three occasions. At last, in fourth grade we began to spend weekends at his house and with his family. Sadly, when I was eleven we learned that my father had cancer. One week before Christmas, after a school music program, I read his obituary in the paper and told my mother he had passed away. From that moment, our family forever changed, specifically my relationship with my mother.