Chapter Four Mona held open the creaky wooden door as Emma stepped into the building. The walls were either painted a light green, which the lights picked up and reflected throughout the hall, or the florescent light cast the minty color over off-white walls. Either way, the space made Emma think of straightjackets and padded cells. The cold linoleum floor, however, resembled icepacks, soothing her road-beaten bare feet. The smooth surface felt like a pillow compared to the gravel and pebble-strewn street. A few framed posters, like the signs she saw on the houses, hung on the walls, depicting staged scenes of people shaking hands in an office, moving into apartments, and cleaning up mountain trails. The phrase, “This is the Place, for …show more content…
“I’ll find you some shoes and socks. What size are you?” “Eight.” “Great. Be back.” When Mona disappeared into the hallway, Shelly asked, “Grace is it?” “Yes.” She paused. “Well, actually, it’s Emma, but I often go by my middle name,” she lied. “I see,” she replied, her drawn-on eyebrow arched. “Emma what?” “Sinclair.” “Age?” “Twenty six.” “Do you have any items to declare?” “Pardon?” The stark obviousness that Emma had only the clothing she wore, made Shelly’s question feel like an insult to injury. Shelly looked up from her paper and waited. Emma found it not only absurd, but painful, considering everything she owned is now gone. She blurted, “I must have forgotten to grab those oranges on my way over.” Shelly sat up straight, finally looking awake. She leaned forward, and placed her elbows on the desk, her fingers laced together. “Miss, I’m trying to help you. I’ve got plenty of folks here who would be thrilled to perform a cavity search on such a sweet, young thing like yourself, so I suggest answering my questions without attitude.” Emma nodded and looked away. Next to the desk, a sign with a tally board hung from a nail. “2 days since last intake.” “So, any items to declare?” she repeated. “No.” “Good. Next question. Do you need medical attention?” Remembering the burn to her hand, she glanced down at her palm. Even though it shone red, the stinging had subsided. “I don’t think so.” Shelly looked at her with indifference. Using her pen, she pointed at Emma’s
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The mouldy, rotting, brown house stood in front of Emily, only fear keeping her feet planted to the ground. Moaning and creaking noises being projected from the house. The grass was damp from the evening fog and every time she took a step the mud squelched. The bottom step squeaked as she applied pressure with her foot, she let out a sigh of relief as the old structure hadn’t swallowed her up. The door, slightly off colour from the rest of the house, loomed over her like a giant as he reached for the brass door handle. A shiver ran through her body like an electric current, the musty smell of a house that had been long abandoned filled Emily’s nose. It was dim and uninviting. The furniture dusty and old, looking as if it would crumble to dust if she was to touch it. Mould ate away at
“The bunk house was a long, rectangular building. Inside, the walls were whitewashed and the floor unpainted. In three walls there were small, square windows, and in the fourth, a solid door with a wooden latch. Against the walls were eight bunks, five of them made up with blankets and the other three showing their burlap ticking. Over each bunk there was nailed an apple box with the opening forward so that it made two shelves for the personal belongings of the occupant of the bunk.”
In today’s society, racism and stereotyping occur in every aspect of life. No one should ever take anything for face value before they examine it first. In reading the narrative, “The View from the Bottom Rail” by James Davidson and Mark Lytle and “Frederick Douglass's Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglas” by Harold Bloom. I became very aware on how American history can be looked at as one sided or bias. Even in today’s society, there is still a lot of biasness presented in American history that is told when it is related to the history of slavery. For us to understand history, we must enable ourselves to look deeper into the articles and examine the prejudices and the source
“This one was hardly bigger than a garage. The table was cluttered with limp- looking magazines and at one end of it there was a big green glass ashtray full of cigarette butts and cotton wads with little blood spots on them. If she had had anything to do with the running of the place, that would have been emptied every so often. There were no chairs against the wall at the head of the room. It had a rectangular-shaped panel in it that permitted a view of the office where the nurse came and went and the secretary listened to the radio. A plastic fern, in a gold pot sat in the opening and trailed its fronds down almost to the floor. The radio was softly playing gospel music” (O’Connor 3). As the Turpins waited Mrs. Turpin began to describe the other waiting room occupants to pass the time. Mrs. Turpin can be seen as a larger woman who is proud of her means and then there is her husband Claud who can be described as a “florid, bald, sturdy and shorter than Mrs. Turpin (O’Connor 1). Next was an unnamed blonde child whose attire consisted of a dirty blue romper, the boy’s mother was seen “wearing on a yellow sweatshirt and wine- colored slacks, both gritty-looking, and the rims of her lips were stained with snuff. Her dirty yellow hair was tied behind with a little piece of red paper ribbon” (O’Connor 5). The next woman is called the “stylish woman” by
The adventurous family thought they finally found the perfect settling house on Little Hobart Street that could eventually lead to them building their dream home. Like all the previous homes they lived in, however, it started to fall apart. They lost air conditioning, heat, and parts of the house started to fall off. It got to the point Jeannette proclaimed, “If I had woken up one morning with a raging fever, I would never have admitted it to Mom. Being sick meant having to stay home in our freezing house instead of a toasty classroom” (Walls 177).
“Wooden floors were an unknown luxury. In a single room were huddled, like cattle, ten or a dozen persons, men, women, and children. We had neither bedsteads nor furniture of any description. Our beds were collections of straw and old rags, thrown down in the corners and boxed in with boards; a single blanket the only covering.”
“ I’m sorry, but I would like to know what your name is.” he said sincerely.
In front of house, on sweeping lawn, largest SG arrangement ever seen, all in white, white smocks blowing in breeze, and Lilly says, Can we go closer?” (Page 3). While in the grandiose mansion, The Torrinis give the family a tour, often degrading the family’s socioeconomic status in society, saying subtle things such as “Perhaps this is all very new and exiting for you?” (page 4) and when talking about what the protagonist does for a living with the wealthy mansion owner Emmett, “He asked about my work, I told. He said, Well, huh, amazing the strange, arcane things our culture requires some of us to do, degrading things, things that offer no tangible benefit to anyone, how do they expect people to continue to even hold their heads up?” (page 5). After this disappointing visit the family leaves the mansion devastated, filled with feelings of shame, inadequacy and jealousy.
Where the colorless tiles ended, a dark carpeting started. He looked further right, to the wall beyond the flooring, seeing the silhouettes of several stacks of boxes and metal racks used to hold clothing. From there, he looked ahead the thirty-foot space to the far wall, the view showing him empty floor space from where he stood, its emptiness ending at the building’s right wall.
Upon arrival at the colonial estate, the narrator quickly notices a big, airy room that she has a strong distaste for. She mentions that it was a nursery first, then a playroom, and finally a gymnasium, but that the windows are barred. With how she is describing her surroundings it allows for one to notice attributes of postpartum depression if it is applied to later on. The room in which she has
I need air, he thought to himself, and walked toward the gigantic front doors. He pushed them open, careful not to let the right one reach the point where it always squeaked. The devil of sneaking around lay in the detail, and this house he knew every floorboard and door’s sound of. Aldersley Park was Carver Aldersley’s childhood home, where he had been born, raised and now left to live. It was
The cupolas, spires, and scrolled balconies are the hallmarks of a decadent style of architecture that became popular in the 1870s. Around the time that the story takes place, a variety of things had changed. The street and neighborhood that was once prosperous, pristine, and indulged, had lost their standing as the realm of the elite. The house, which in some ways an expansion