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9/11 Dialectical Journal

Decent Essays

Eleven: A Messenger of Hope In late May during the wee hours of the morning a rapid knock at the door woke Anna from another horrible nightmare. She sat straight swimming in her bed, crying, and drowning in the torrent of blankets. Suddenly there was a second knock, but before she could completely rub the sleep from her eyes the door was opened and in stepped a very thin, tall stranger with soft curly dark brown hair and golden eyes hidden behind spectacles. "Hello I'm Joseph," he said and coughed, "I'm sorry I am a little under the weather." So you must be Willy," he smiled and walked over and shook his hand, "It nice to meet you. And you must be Anna the pleasure is all mine." Anna supposed he was thoughtful. He seemed to have a quiet, …show more content…

Slowly the feelings faded and perhaps because he feel as if he were being selfish he asked, "Do you write?" "What?" Anna asked surprised by Joseph's suddenly change in subjects. "Do you write stories? Could you write a story about a butterfly? If you would Willy and I will read it together." She thought to herself with a tinge of excitement, writing a story and having my words read by others would be a very strange and wonderful experience. But she dared not say the words out loud, afraid that it might spoil the moment. "Yes I can write a story." Anna finally responded, "but why butterflies?" "Because the flapping of butterfly wings that begins in our own hearts, minds, and souls flutters outward and alters all kinds of things in many different ways. They are flutters of a greater plan something bigger than us and have profound effects on everything and everyone in our lives and in the world. We are all connected by the light." Joseph …show more content…

The basement was their home. Every day they got up early and made their bed. Around six o'clock Miss Margot would come in breathless and in a hurry with their breakfast which usually consisted of warm tasty porridge. And now and then in the afternoon she would burst through the door holding flowers and cookies and smelling fresh like the outdoors. She would stay for a moment or two and chat about with the children about the wonderful weather or her garden. The children would show her the pictures that they had drawn and ask her questions about their mother. Which she could never answer, but she would try. On the other hand, at first Joseph, who was new to basement living often, spent his days quietly pacing. Anna noticed that at times he appeared to have silent remorseful secrets in his eyes and a tortured soul. But as time passed, he too accepted his fate and began amusing himself by talking. He would talk about anything and everything, including the occasional whiff of Miss Margot's perfume which Joseph said, "reminds me of a day when I had walked into my house and found that it was warm and cozy and smelt like sweet vanilla and pine

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