Short Story

Prompt: Write a unified essay in which you relate the imagery of the last stanza to the speaker’s view of himself earlier in the poem and to his view of how others see poets.

"I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house."

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

He waited until the night’s 11th hour. By now the Princess rested in the highest tower of the castle, locked away from the dangerous world, yet so oblivious to the dangers that which fated the rest of her life. Silently the peasant journeyed outside, where he stopped at the wall of the tower where she lay. He watched her in the darkness from below, lifting his face to her, letting the light rest on his every surface of darkness. The night was cloudless. The winds wailed between the motionless oak trees as its thin branches clawed out, ever so slightly disturbing the leaves with its hostile screeches. Not the thick moss of the trees nor the damp leaves squirming in his toes could distract the peasant from so enticing a scent. All that encircled him was the sweetness of lavender and rosewood, filling his entire being as he sunk into the grass, like sand washed over by the water, with every breeze passing

Rupert hobbled out of the bar, his warm tears scolding the cold bitumen beneath him. Mustard gas hissed up from the grates on the sidewalk, exuding into the crisp winter air. Rupert coughed and spluttered out on the cold street, falling to the ground. With a quivering voice, and head humbly bowed he sang to

World’s held their breath as one single tear rolled down the cheek of a broken queen. Not a sound was uttered as the breath was released and Penelope wiped her cheeks clean of any sign that she had been mourning as she slid out from between the blankets. She crept through her house, though it could have been a stranger’s without her lord to make it a home. As she stepped onto the soft grass a warm wind whispered in her ears.

For once, she wandered toward him with no children in tow. Today, she wore no linen coif, and her elbow-length, blond hair hung down loose. Percival had not realized how thick and glossy it was. And instead of wearing her typical nanny uniform of a stiff beige tunic dress, she wore a pale blue dress, more fitted at the top, and cinched at the waist with dark leather girdle belt. The belt accentuated the curve of her hips, and he color of her dress brought out the light honey color in her eyes. She was even more beautiful than he recalled, and in that instant, her presence was the balm he needed to soothe his agitated soul. He realized that he’d had but one brief interaction with her earlier in the day, yet her presence was exactly what he needed.

Up until recently the small, fine unit that was their marriage had been predictable. Now disrupted by erratic behaviour, shifting gazes and finally exotic dinners of all things. Her unpredictability upset him, and as he ate the spices stung his tongue. He ground his food cruelly to fine shreds and swallowed forcefully, and the tartness of his rage clung to his palette and tasted an unpleasing aftertaste.

“In the kitchen, he stirred the coals in the old Home Comfort wood range. The coffee in the black percolator on the side of the range was still hot. He had made it by lamplight before going out. He poured a mug of the strong brew and sipped it as he took a heavy cast iron skillet from a hook on the wall and placed it on the range top. He set the coffee down and dropped a tablespoon full of soft butter into the warming skillet and broke two eggs into it, lightly salted them and sipped his coffee until they began to whiten around the edge.”

First in Ealdor and every day since, the coy maiden consumed his thoughts far too often and ever more since the day he comforted her in his arms. He would never forget her raw despair and vulnerability, her unrestrained trembling for which he was partly to blame. Perhaps she had forgiven him, but he was too cowardly to find out.

Due to the fact that the narrator could not actually know what the piano player is thinking, the reader can say that the narrator is actually describing his own actions after hearing the musician sing. Based on the lack of emotion given from the narrator and the blending of the narrator and the musician’s actions at the end of the poem, the speaker, has a common voice with the piano player, both of whom are

Tiora sat gracefully in her seat, still in her dress from the night before, one leg crossed delicately over the other and her shoulders back in a relaxed posture. She glanced around the room, her bright green and brown flecked eyes took in the plain white walls of the small room. A giggle bubbled from her lips, she knew that the plain

After Lionel finished his half-tankard of ale—he’s purposely short-poured from the pitcher—he paid for his men’s drinks, despite their protests. He wished Ulrich and Perceval a good rest of their day, then headed straight out of the tavern and up the castle path. He wanted to visit the kitchens and ensure the maids would have everything ready for his supper with Alis tonight.

"I reckon it's time for breakfast.” Bard said, changing the subject "What do you guys want?" The cook asked "I'll have eggs, hold the dynamite" Finny said raising his hand "Me too" Mayrin said as she and Finny sat down to wait.  The peaceful silence in the room was suddenly shattered by Sebastian's crying.   "You must be hungry too.” Mayrin said, smiling. "Mayrin, what do baby's eat?" Finny asked, causing Mayrin's cheeks to flush red. “Oh! Well, I've got some roses to take care of in the garden so I’ll be back later I guess" Finny stammered, backing out of the room, his face bright red. Finny pulled the door open, nearly ripping it off its hinges, and ran out. "Now it’s just you and me.” Mayrin said, untying her apron and unbuttoning her

Amelia silently ate her breakfast, unsure of what to talk about with the young Earl. The silence, however, was very much awkward to her. However, she wasn't sure if it was awkward to Ciel. She couldn't help but enjoy the food. "My lord, if I may, this breakfast your cook has prepared is very much delicious." She complimented, breaking the awkward silence that previously filled the air. Ciel looked up at Amelia, studying her for a second. He knew Bardroy really didn't cook the meal. However, he was surprised that someone complimented something that was presented to them. "He will be most excited to hear your compliment." Ciel responded before taking a drink of his hot tea. She giggled softly, as she copied his actions. But of course, not on purpose.