Kingdom Of Dresenalt Analysis

she was kind and gentle but the power of slavery overcome her once gentle spirit. He explained that she wasn’t bad a person at first, but having complete control over another human being transforms her from an angel into a demon.

Robert Frost's 'Desert Places' is a testament to the harrowing nature of solidarity. By subjecting the narrator to the final moments of daylight on a snowy evening, an understanding about the nature of blank spaces and emptiness becomes guratively

Eaton presents both settings as hostile and daunting. The desert is depicted as being a dangerous prison from which escape is impossible as described as “Dry, thorny bushes formed a natural, almost impenetrable wall of spinifex.” (Pg.145) and Port Barren as described as “A hot, dusty, dry hole with flies.” (Pg.17) by Jamie. The reader is positioned to sympathize with Jamie’s predicament of being stuck in this unfriendly environment. Jamie’s relationship with the setting by the end as he is accepted by the locals and earns a sense of belonging. As a short extract from the story represents: “I meant to ask you, what do you reckon I am? Neither mate. You’re local.” (Pg.

The reek of death hangs in the air throughout the land. Filling the mouths of those who lived in this abandoned land was the taste of burnt garlic. The screams and cries of terror undistinguishable between beast and human fill the ears of the last ones living. The sky, which was lit by the glow of fires, is grey and empty. Decaying bodies and

She became accustomed to the perception of a desert being portrayed as dull and lifeless (Being raised in Kentucky) until this trip. Throughout this scene, she expresses her fascination for nature, and uses a tone of awe and allurement while describing the attributes about the land with metaphors. This narration occurred following the first rainfall, when Mattie and Taylor decided to go to the desert. This passage which is distinctive of Kingsolver’s portrayal of the natural landscape shows her sudden awareness diverse atmospheres. By linking to the scenery to “the palm of a human hand”, the author uses the literary device of personification with the mountains and the town. Her phrase “resting in its cradle of mountains” associates the basin to a child, and the phrases “city like a palm”and“life lines and heart lines hints a grown-up. The terrain exemplifies a life from the beginning to end. Taylor describes the land my linking each attribute with lots of metaphors, which then confirms that the tone is “wonder and allurement” because it demonstrates that she is emotionally connected to the

“Far on the sands” is a reflective poem that emphasizes Smith’s heartache. Smith expresses her feelings of anguish through her interpretation of the landscape. The beautiful image of “The sighing summer wind forgets to blow. / As sinks the daystar in the rosy West, / The silent wave, with rich reflection glows;” (ll. 3-5). should inspire some feeling of serenity. Instead, Smith feels bitter that even this beautiful scene cannot soothe her. She states, “Alas! Can tranquil Nature give me rest, / Or scenes of beauty, soothe me to repose?” (ll. 7-8). The focus on Smith’s feelings of torment when viewing the

It was a cold morning from which I had awoke. The ground was compacted from all of the slaves who had ambled upon this path, and was wet with the morning dew. I took a brief moment to massage my sores and I set off again, determined to escape this merciless place.

She loses sight of who she really is and instead, sees herself the way others see her. While they are in the forest, she notices that when the Erl-King calls for the birds, “the birds come; and the sweetest singers he keep[s] in cages” (Carter 87). The Erl-King proves to be no different from the Marquis, where he objectifies them based on their female bodies and is only interested in their physical characteristics. As a result, due to his narrow views on women, he places a ring around each of their necks, commands them like they are his pets and puts the ones he deems most valuable and precious on display in locked cages.

Already in the beginning, miles of farmland wedge between John and Ann as he ventures off to “help [his father] with his chores, while “mak[ing] sure he’s all right in case [they] do have a storm.” Without her husband for company, she spends the day alone at home, painting, “brooding” and witnessing the intensity of the storm grow vicious. As “the double wheel around the moon” foreshadowed, the storm tested the “elements of human meaning and survival,” forcing the wise to stay indoors away from its “sharp, savage blows.” Also, the desolate prairies, themselves, add to the tense, stultifying aura of solidarity. While the landscape lay bleak and uninviting, how even “the distant farmsteads [Ann] could see served only to intensify a sense of isolation” appears clear. Not only “miles deep between her now and John,” Ann faces a natural barrier between the neighbouring homesteads as the “long white miles of prairie landscape” conceived a “region strangely alien to life.” In essence, the physical barriers, from the “sudden, maniac raging of the storm” to the vast stretches of farmland, allows loneliness and the “ever-lurking silence” to creep into the characters’ hearts until suffering takes control of their

Closer and closer the people approach like anxious children touching their toes to test the waters. Farther and farther the landscape is beaten back, receding like the tides, growing restless encased by the awaiting mouths of greed. Once noble legions of trees dwindle and scatter with bated breath, unable to stop the rising tide of numerous enemy forces. Droves of caravan’s influx in with workers, looking to find profit in its destruction. The people loom in with their machines annihilating a tapestry of history in one fatal swoop of its cold jaws, wreaking havoc with reckless abandon. In their wake the Earth laid bare, having been turned over reminiscent to tomb robbers of Pharaohs for its

The hot, arid air burned into my soul as millions of needles pricked my delicate skin. Beads of sweat coursed down my face as I turned towards the window facing the barren desert surrounding me. My family and I were on an ever sought vacation to the Grand Canyon, yet we had to drive from New York to Arizona and I radiated impatience throughout the journey. Walls of heat shrouded me as I gasped for air, yet my efforts were fruitless, swallowing nothing but fire. As my lungs collapsed, I looked out the window and into the heart of the looming sun, taunting me from afar. Suddenly, my eyes gave out and sweat and tears engulfed them till they took their true form. A forest blanketed with soft and gleaming snow, blemished by the phrase: “Only 10 more minutes.” However, I was awakened from my revery by a vehement cry as I gazed into the eyes of tattered vultures, of every discrepancy, with an unforgettably shrill voice. “Who dares enter our land!” they screeched dissonantly. Trembling, my eyes flashed over the sun and I was standing in a perpetual desert, with vulture's eyes glued to me. I froze with fear, though the sun baked my skin.

Her name has long since been forgotten, but her actions will live on until the End. She was a Witch, neither good nor evil. There may have been others like her, who created other galaxies, or she may be responsible for all of what is. Nobody knows. Before her, there was only black, and she grew tired of existing in complete darkness. So she made the stars, which lit up her working space. And then she made the Sun, for heat.

The howling of the wind brought my eyes to open. Where was I? Focusing in the dark of night, confusion washed over me as I came to realize I was in the desert. Distant landscapes of dry and worn rock surrounded me, and beneath my bare feet I felt the gritty sand caught between my toes. I was surrounded by those rocky hills and yet as I scanned the desolate desert it seemed never ending. The irony of the nighttime desert suddenly set into my body; that ghastly wind moving right through me and chilling my bones to that of splintering ice. The need to move started me forward though, and I felt a sharp ache all over, my body trying to fight against change. Was I lost? My heart began pounding fast in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins

Every 13th of a month, for the last 2000 years, all around the earth, thousands of raging souls are gaining flesh and bones, taking the shape of nightmares, urban legends, and myths, spreading terror and death to the unprotected crowd. A group of women, who later proved as witches, gained enough wealth and supremacy based on humanity’s need for safety, evolving into an evil Empire.

I gazed up at the mountain now drenched in light red and squinted, trying to keep my eyes open, as the bright sharp light burnt into my eyes. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I finally closed them unable to the pain any longer; I wiped my watery eyes and thought where Samneric’s fire was? There was a rumble inside me, and I looked hopefully at the jungle wondering if I could find Samneric’s fire as well as something to eat. In the morning light the jungle seemed like an old and tattered rug chewed to bits by moths, yet despite this the jungle and the whole island was beautiful shining in the sun’s warmth. I kept on walking as the jungle beckoned me calling me with its beauty. As I passed between the trees, the canopy overhead plunged me into velvet darkness. The only source of light was from the small gaps in the shell of overlapping leaves, where the sun glistened through. Moss and lichen covered the ground in abundance, thriving in this humid atmosphere, and feeding on the eerie green light that managed to penetrate through the ceiling of emerald leaves. The strange green shade and the various knotted pillars made it impossible to see for great distances or to walk about freely.