A long time ago, far far away was a little village called Icelandic. The little village was an excruciatingly hot town, ruled by the powerful Goddess Pavlof. The villagers would daily be in pain from the vibrant heat, they wouldn’t complain for their queen; for they knew what would punish the courageous soul.The villagers would try to leave, but always ended up back in their homes or find some reason to stay in the boiling town until death. One day, a villager tired of being scared, a young woman of the name Poinsettia. Though, she was small and weak young lady, she knew it was imperative for her to take action. She just wanted was to feel some kind of coolness in her life, even though all she ever felt was the blazing heat. With a positive in mind state nevertheless, Poinsettia marched into the castle with her confidence up to the roof and stood high while faced with the queen, “Oh my dear goddess, may you let some of the cold air in the village?” Sitting at her thrown, Goddess Pavlof looked down at her for a minute before she started to cackle. The only sound that was heard throughout the castle was her cackle echoing through the halls of the castle, as she wiped the tears in her eyes from laughter Pavlof told her,“The only way you’ll ever feel the cold is if it rained from the sky,” said the Goddess. As she cackled, she signaled the guards to take her to the dungeon. Without putting up a fight, she allowed the guards to lift her off the ground and take her to the freezing
All the Marigols And The Migrant Mother The Great Depression Era,a time in American history when the nation feel into a time of poverty and hopelessness. People standing in lines for hours for a bowl of soup and a piece of bread.When jobs were few no matter how desperatly people looked for them.Doing without and wondering if or when a better time would come. The story "Marigolds"by Eugenia Collier is the memories of Lizabeth, a fourteen year old black girl in rural Maryland.When I think of that time and place ,I only remember the dry September of the dirt roads and grassless yards of the shantytown where I lived.Memory is an abstract painting - it does not present things as they are,but rather as they feel. Another inconsistency of memory, a brilliant splash of sunny yellow against the dust, Miss Lottie's marigolds. Lizabeth has a lot of memories.Fishing for minnows with cupped hands just to have them slip away.Loafing around trying to find something to do.The Childrens favorit thing to do was to annoy Miss Lottie.An old Indian woman they called a witch. Why ,when her shack seemed like it would fall down at anytime would she have beautiful mounds of
Writers are able to leave their personal fingertips on their pieces, which is why writing is such a beautiful hobby. Whether one is writing poetry, short stories, novels, scripts, articles, etc., the diversity and uniqueness is absolutely amazing. In order for writers to keep their pieces original, they use literary devices such as imagery, juxtaposition, and diction. These devices help create something called voice, which is essentially the special way an author writes, including word choice and the way the author communicates his or hers ideas. These three literary devices are used frequently in the short story “Marigolds,” and each of them contribute to the author’s voice.
Suddenly my eyes flew open, the coldness slowly lingered away. My body felt warm. Almost as warm as how my mouth felt the last time I had sipped on my grandmother's tea. My grandmother always told me to have faith and to believe in the end everything would be alright. I felt the frigid saltwater against my skin. “Where am I?” I thought to myself. I couldn’t quite recall what had happened nor where I was. All that I could recall was hearing screams of innocent children and parents trying to comfort
At a young age, children do not understand the importance of having compassion as for they hold innocence within themselves. Growing up and maturing into an adult, children begin to progressively lose their innocence as they become more of a compassionate person because one can not have both innocence and compassion simultaneously. In fact, a coming of age short story called “Marigolds” written by Eugenia Collier, tells about a young girl named Lizabeth who grows up to become a compassionate person. For the most part, Lizabeth tells her childhood experience in a flashback on how she mostly remembers Miss Lottie’s marigolds. Ultimately, Lizabeth decides to destroy Miss Lottie’s marigolds out of anger because she hears about her parent's economic struggles. Shortly after Lizabeth realizes what she had done, she realizes the meaning of why Miss Lottie plants the marigolds. Throughout the short story, “Marigolds,” the characterization of Lizabeth helps develop the author’s argument that one can not have both compassion and innocence. The three events that show this is, when Lizabeth hesitates before throwing the rocks at the marigolds, hearing the sounds of her father’s sorrowful cries, and eliminating Miss Lottie’s marigolds.
One night, thoroughly past her bedtime, Georgiana crept stealthily downstairs to sneak a bite of pie, even though her mother would never approve. She immediately realized a heavy drape of desolation. The only noise was her heart beating to the rapid rhythm of the twitching fan. Georgiana thought that no one would be awake at one in the morning. She slipped through the doorway into the kitchen. For an instant, her heart stopped. A dreadful sight stood in her way. An innocent and isolated individual lay with his hand grasping for life, but it was already over. Taking a step back, she
Written in 1969, the plot of the short story "Marigolds" is built by the interactions between Lizabeth, Lizabeth's brother, Miss Lottie and Miss Lottie's marigolds. As the story begins, Lizabeth remembers how her mother and her father left her and her brother home alone while they went to work. Lizabeth's brother suggests that the pair go annoy Miss Lottie because it "was always fun. " The young siblings gather a group of their friends and go to Miss Lottie's house. Once there, the group then proceeds to throw rocks towards the marigolds planted outside Miss Lottie's house.
It was a pleasant fall Tuesday when Stephanie went to work. Her day normal consisted of writing reports, and filing paperwork for her office. She turned on the television to see if there was anything alluring in the news. “NEWS FLASH: MAN CONVICTED OF MURDER HAS ESCAPED PRISON.” The warning did not phase her, considering the jail was far from her office. She concluded that she was safe. By four o’clock, it was time for her to travel home from a laborious day of work. She arranged her things into her bag, and began her trek. Walking out the door, she was met with warm rays from the sun. It was an astounding way to end a strenuous
The room is too cold, yet too hot and Eleanor wants to scream. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel the room spinning. There’s no air and Eleanor’s panic shifts from her past to the present. She can’t get air, air that she needs.
Eugenia Collier uses diction and imagery to create the voice of her narrator, Lizabeth, in her short story “Marigolds.” Lizabeth has a negative tone in the beginning of the story. The imagery she stated, “When I think of my hometown, all that I seem to remember is dust- the brown crumbly dust of late summer-arid, sterile dust that gets into the eyes and makes them water (Collier)...” proves that she is unhappy to be in that place. There are a lot of reasons why she is unhappy in that place and one of them is poverty. Lizabeth hinted that one of their struggles was poverty when she said “Poverty is a cage in which we all are trapped, and our hatred of it was still the vague, undirected restlessness of the zoo-bred flamingo who knows that nature created him to fly flee (Collier).” Lizabeth established the juxtaposition when she said, “And one other thing I remember, another incongruency of memory-a brilliant splash of sunny yellow against the dust-Miss Lottie’s marigolds (Collier).” She is stating that Miss Lottie’s marigolds were the only beautiful thing in that unsightly place. Those marigolds did not give her a pleasant feeling because she thought that they were too beautiful to exist in that kind of place. Miss Lottie was believed to be a witch when Lizabeth was young but she knows she is mature enough not believe in those things anymore. Their first encounter resulted in Lizabeth and her company destroying some of Miss Lottie’s marigolds and they left Miss Lottie and John Burke, her son, enraged. When she got home and went to her room hoping to rest after a long day, she overheard her parents talking. She heard her dad say, “ Twenty two years, Maybelle, twenty two years…and I got nothing for you, nothing, nothing (Collier).” She then realized that her father got fired from his job and was not taking it too well after what they have been through. Maybelle, Lizabeth’s mother, attempted to comfort her husband by saying, “Honey, you took good care of us when you had it. Ain’t nobody got nothing nowadays (Collier).” After a while of discussion Lizabeth’s father began to sob, loudly and painfully. At this point, LIzabeth is confused because she never heard a man cry before. She did not even know that men cry.
In Shirley Ann Grau's "Fever Flower" the mood of sadness is present in the various familial characters in Maureen's life by foreshadowing to highlight the loss of Annie, diction to display the solemn way Maureen receives Katherine, and irony in how Maureen's father fails to see the value in his only daughter while others view him as a great father. The loss of Maureen's primary parental figure and caregiver Annie displays a mood of sadness as this is the one person that was always there for her and the stories foreshadowing to the eventual death of Annie shows that Maureen will never have to opportunity to stay happy even in the years to come. The diction the narrator uses to describe the resent Maureen has towards her uninvolved mother, and repetition Katherine uses to reassure herself she is an active mother contributes to create a mood of sadness in the story. Hugh is ironically on display as being a good father who is later said to abandon his daughter and not see value in the investment he has placed in her until her eventual marriage. The continuous disappointment Maureen must go through in her life from her parents lack of involvement to the eventual loss of Annie, causes for the mood of sadness to increase as the story progresses,
Three days earlier on a wintery morning. I walked out of my warm apartment, as the cold breeze instantly smacked me in the face, even with my woolly, Christmas themed sweater and thick, quilted coat I was still cold. The sky was washed with grey clouds, as the ground was covered in crisp, white snow. The wind whooshed and whistled past my ears giving me the shivers; I quickly ran through the deep,
“It is a shame that her father left her...this happened because her mother failed her job as a wife...she is so young...what was her father thinking?”, my relatives whispered as they sipped their tea. My cousin’s face turned pale like the white blanket of snow falling outside the lodge at the camp in Lake Tahoe. Her expression held so many emotions as if it was a canvas of a painting to be gazed upon. I could see that she felt frustrated and tired of these rude remarks, and all I did was just stand there and caressed the back side of her hands, so I could comfort her. Suddenly, it felt like the air had thickened so much that even a hammer could not slash it into tiny bits. My cousin had not yet known why her father left the house yesterday.
The day I planted my marigolds was when I was little there was this really nicely colored blanket that my cousin got the day before. He loved it so much he would take it everywhere; So one day I decided I wanted it one too so I took it, I would sleep with it and it had colorful designs on it, also I knew it was wrong but i was so mad that i wasn't thinking about it.
The clouds came in overhead darkening the ground underneath where the travelers lay to rest. The snowfall that followed them was a beautiful dancer dressed in all white with a black knife behind her back. They did not know of a single man who still had all his fingers and toes for the dancer was spinning and spinning with her knife out wherever she pleases. She was brutal in the cruelest way and careless way. She was killing the men one by one. She would not rest until summer came. Sometimes they would look up at the sky and hate with all their heart how beautiful she is for she is a monster of the worst kind. The ones that greet you with kindness and beauty and leave you with nothing but your own rotting flesh. They would walk forward in
Today April 10, 2016. This spring I have watched with awe the breaking through of the flowers that have been out of sight all winter. It is almost as if they have been in reserve for several months waiting for a call to come out of the ground. They have been frozen, drenched with water from the winter rains, and snow piled on top of them for days. Yet, when the time of their arrival comes from that bulb or seed, suddenly that green stem begins to emerge. As it emerges it begins to transpose into its own personal flower, the lilies do not look like the irises or the mums, the peonies take on their own special look. One flower in peculiar I was watching for was a peony. We have two rows, one has four large peonies in it the other has seven. All