“That is when I remembered that I had a father. During the alert, I had followed the mob, not taking care of him. I knew he was running out of strength, close to death, and yet I had abandoned him. I went to look for him. Yet at the same time a thought crept into my mind: If only I didn’t find him! If only I were relieved of this responsibility, I could use all my strength for myself… Instantly, I felt ashamed, ashamed of myself forever.” Slowly though, he starts to feel more and more that his father is a burden, like page 107. “I gave him what was left of my soup. But my heart was heavy. I was aware that I was doing it grudgingly. Just like Rabbi Eliahu’s son, I had not passed the test.” On page 108, he becomes frustrated with his father. “I sat next to him, watching him. I no longer dared to believe that he could still elude Death. I did all I could to give him hope.” Then finally, on page 111-112, “The officer came closer and shouted to him to be silent. But my father did not hear. He continued to call me. The officer wielded his club and dealt him a violent blow to the head. I didn’t move. I was afraid, my body was afraid of another blow, this time to my head… When I came down from my bunk after roll call, I could see his lips trembling; he was murmuring something. I remained more than an hour leaning over him, looking at him, etching his bloody, broken face into
At the beginning of the novel, the reader is introduced to the one defining character trait of The Man: his devotion to his son. This concept is a staple in The Man’s personality, and greatly affects his actions. We see his devotion through small acts like how The Man sleeps with The Boy to keep him warm and how The Boy always drinks, eats, and bathes before The Man. The reader sees a larger example of this commitment when a “bad guy” threatened The Boy with a knife. The Man swiftly and ruthlessly shot the man who “fell back instantly and lay with blood bubbling from the hole in his forehead.” (McCarthy.). Rather than simply incapacitating the bad guy, The Man made sure that at least that man would never be able to hurt or threaten The Boy again. The Man is not only devoted to his son, but he is committed to his goals of heading South. Even though they made some stops along the way, the idea of getting South and to the shore never wavered from The Man’s head. The intensity that The Man devoted to protecting The Boy continued as their journey did. When someone started shooting the two men with arrows, the readers were treated to
I thought about going back to Wellpinit. I blamed myself for all of the death. I had cursed my family. I had left the tribe, and had broken something inside all of us, and I was now being punished for that” (173). He carried the guilt of his sister’s death; “I had killed my sister. Well, I hadn’t killed her. But she only got married so quickly and left the Rez because I had left the Rez first. She had burned to death because I had decided that I wanted to spend my life with white people. It was all my fault” (211). He took on the burden of responsibility for the death of his sister; she was killed in an accident when she was drunk; what happened to her wasn’t Junior’s fault. As result, he was terrified of losing his father, “Please God, please don’t kill my daddy” (203). Then Junior got some guidance from his father and some words of encouragement from his mother, and Junior began to understand that he made the change in his life for the better. Junior wasn’t the reason her sister died, but he had inspired her to follow her dreams as well.
Delaney’s grandsons, Willie Jackson and Bolls Riley, told the story of the death of Samuel Scott, passed down from their parents. Before day, the slaves of Poplar Hill Plantation would go to the barn to pull out the plows, hoes, shovels, rakes, all the tools they would need for that day. On this day like most with preparation underway, seeds for planting located at the rear of the building, one of the slaves walked to the other side of the barn they noticed a shadow, hanging from the rafters was the body of Samuel Scott, he had committed suicide.
Dinner that night was silent, Mrs. Ruffin had heard what happened and wouldn’t dare bring it up. Julian didn’t eat at the dinner table in fear of what his father would say to him because he had let the slave rest. So after Edmund finished his dinner he went to his bedroom. Though he felt someone was already in there, watching him, but he didn’t think too much of it and went to his bed. He then heard a loud knock, as he looked to his left he saw a faded figure standing in front of his bed. As he looked closer he saw it was John C. Calhoun. Edmund was terrified, not of John but because John had died 10 earlier. Unable to speak or move, Edmund lay there petrified. John then spoke, “ Hello Edmund, its been awhile and things have changed and I think
In the novel Montana 1948, by Larry Watson, we witness this through the eyes of David a 12 year old narrator, the sickness and death of his beloved caretaker Marie Little Soldier by the doing of his Uncle Frank whom he has always looked up to. An important character central to the story is David’s father Wesley the sheriff of Bentrock who is brave, courageous, conflicted and, protective of his family. A message Wesley helps us understand a thought-provoking message that it is difficult to choose between family and doing the right thing.
Again, focusing on the inhumane territory caused by war, he questions, “ How long you Honor, will it take for the world to get back the humane emotions that were slowly growing before the war? How long will it take the calloused hearts of men before the scars of hatred and cruelty shall be removed?”. Again he is forcing the audience to recognize the effect of the immortalities that the young are surrounded in. Bringing up the defendants’ families, Darrow says “What should he be considered? Should his brothers be considered? Will it do society any good or make your life safer, or any human being’s life safer, if it should be handed down from generation to generation, that this boy, their kin, died upon the scaffold” Darrow is wondering what kind of impact these boys’ execution would have society. It would not make society feel any better or any less fear. It would only bring heartbreak and misery and denial to their family
“His jaw was in his throat, his upper lip and teeth were gone, his one eye was shut, his other eye was a star-shaped hole...,” writes O’Brien as he studies the deceased enemy (118). Throughout the novel, the author shows consistency with repeating stories and lines in a way to present a greater image. He reminds the reader of details the elaborate his larger view. When he writes of the man he killed, he wants the reader to imagine themselves in his shoes, as he imagined himself in the enemies’. As he carefully studies the dead man, he imagines how the boy found himself in the war. By relating American society to the boy’s village of My Khe, he bridges similarities connecting the two by a culture that promotes defending one’s land and ways of life. By saying, “he would have been taught that to defend the land was a man’s highest duty and highest privilege,” he shows there is minimal difference between how most Americans view the military and the duty of the villagers in My Khe (119). Although he had not known the exact history of the boy, he attempted to illustrate in his own mind what his life may have been like prior to the invasion. The inability for O’Brien to walk away from the body as Kiowa continued to pry him away says he was troubled by the similarities. Despite Kiowa saying it could have been him lying lifeless on
Jake rode his horse in thoughtful silence. The outlaw’s violent death didn’t bring him the peace he sought, but it did reinforce his need to return to Texas. With few exceptions, the bodies from the Scarlett Rose were unidentifiable and although the sheriff concluded that Duvall must have perished in the explosion, he wasn’t so sure. Something in the kid’s voice, fear perhaps, made him wonder.
I never saw my mother, to know her as such, more than four or five times in my life; and each of these times was very short in duration, and at night. She was hired by a Mr. Stewart, who lived about twelve miles from my home. She made her journeys to see me in the night, travelling the whole distance on foot, after the performance of her day 's work. She was a field hand, and a whipping is the penalty of not being in the field at sunrise, unless a slave has special permission from his or her master to the contrary--a permission which they seldom get, and one that gives to him that gives it the proud name of being a kind master. I do not recollect of ever seeing my mother by the light of day. She was with me in the night. She would lie down with me, and get me to sleep, but long before I waked she was gone. Very little communication ever took place between us. Death soon ended what little we could have while she lived, and with it her hardships and suffering. She died when I was about seven years old, on one of my master 's farms, near Lee 's Mill. I was not allowed to be present during her illness, at her death, or burial. She was gone long before I knew any thing about it. Never having enjoyed, to any considerable extent, her soothing presence, her tender and watchful care, I received the tidings of her death with much the same emotions I should have probably felt at the death of
He will pay for all the suffering he has brought on me. William was the last family I had. After the morning ale, he followed them. He was drunk, but that did not stop him. ‘’I will avenge my cousin,’’ he said several times as the shambled his way behind them. They entered a door beside the baker, John Collinson’s house he knew. The walls were thin, so he could hear voices up there. He stood by the window to listen. When the stranger looked out, he hid in the doorway. He could hear something about Alfred Collinson’s bank debt and the disappearance of the manager. What are they up to? He thought as he listened. When the voices died out, he heard footsteps behind the door. He ran behind into an alley beside the house and hid behind some boxes. Edward heard them whispering to each other as they walked. As he were about to move backwards he fell on some cans. Did they hear that? He did not hear footsteps, nor talking, only silence. After some painfully tense seconds, the footsteps began again and faded when he looked up. Edward got back up and brushed his clothes before heading home to sleep of his
The familiar, tortured strain of my mother’s voice curdled my stomach. I flung open my bedroom door, sprinting towards the living room, my heart thumping like a relentless drum. My lungs were on fire. My eyes darted around the room frantically until they landed on him. There he was, the man I was forced to call my father. He lumbered towards me, this big atrocity of a creature, swaying dangerously from side to side. His beefy arm hurled my mother onto the floor, as if she was a bag of week-old garbage. Her hands desperately reached out to clutch onto his arm, to restrain him, but they missed. My mother was a frail wisp of a woman – so much that she practically dissolved into the grey curtains. Her powder-white face was streaked with tears. My father’s dark, hooded eyes locked onto mine. A supercilious, arrogant smirk was stapled onto his face. Tumescent flesh spilt from the sides of his leather belt, his stomach jutting out comically. He was a man with barely any neck, the red flush of alcohol staining his pug-like face. Oh, how the sight of him boiled my blood.
Skipping steps is unacceptable in the Henry family. My family includes many successful leaders. My brother Shawn is enrolled in the honors program of Lehigh for Engineering. My brother Josh takes classes at a local school while juggling two part time jobs. My brother Jason takes night classes at West Chester University for his Masters. My Father is a Chemical Engineer at Arkema, leading groups for research and testing. My mother is a supports coordinator for the county, helping those who need support for people with physical or mental disabilities. None of them skipped steps to reach the level they are at today, and I aspire to be just like them.
Confused, shocked and fear filled my mind as I lye on my side, gasping for air, trying desperately to stagger onto my knees. A sharp pain suddenly ran up my spine into my forehead and quickly I collapsed back onto the cold damp floor inside this mangled metal coffin in which I was trapped in. Bit by bit I moved my hand closer to my forehead, trying to impede this massive throbbing that was affecting my head. I skimmed my forehead and paused my hand on a huge gash. The pain shot into my head again, but I was able to clutch on to the seat and hold my balance. There was blood pouring down the side