The Living Dead : Katherine Smail Essay

     Some say that people never change. They may be right, but no one really knows. What people do know is that every living person has one thing in common, something that will never change. Everyone will die, there’s no way around it. Every “new” and “old” generation will succumb to the same ghastly fate. The differences in the “old” generation and “new” generation sometimes collide in life. The contrast between generations in James Joyce’s “The Dead” is similar to the contrast in the generations today. The “baby boomer” generation is the old fashioned generation preoccupied with hospitality and tradition, where as, “generation x” is the new generation, preoccupied with knowledge and intellect.

I covered my mouth to keep it shut and not say anything. He was wearing black boots and black pants. I could see him running towards the open window in a hurry. Maybe he thought i jumped out or something. He began to run towards the stairs. “He’s leaving” i whispered… But there was no answer, I realized that the call was cut. The man was stepping down the stairs… when all of a sudden there was a loud ringtone coming from my hand. There was then a panic in my heart. The man rushed back into my room and entered, There was a moment of silence when all i could see was the man’s black boots staring straight at my eyes. When suddenly there was a powerful pull dragging me out of the bed. Closing my eyes all i could feel is was extrucenary pain all over my body, every second. I reached out for anything near by so I could at least fight. I felt something from the tip of my fingers. I got a grip of something and swung as hard as I could, I hit him hard. The man fell back. I opened my eyes and there he was, Lying on the ground. Weak and hurt i got up and slowly started walking out of my room and down the stairs. My whole body hurt it was hard to move. I heard the man start to get up, I was terrified. I decided to walk to the basement door to try and hide. I remembered the small door that was in the basement. And went gently to open the door. Weak and in pain I was able to get down the old sketchy stairs and move some boxes to open the door. I opened the door. On the other side was a little room. It was dark and had a little bit of light coming from the outside. Maybe the moon light from the outside. I sat on the small corner of the room.I wrapped my arms around my body to try and stay warm. It was quiet for a second. Until I heard the basement door slam open. The man's foot steps were loud and you could tell he wasn't very happy. I could easily read exactly where he was. He was looking for me,

In the novel The Dead, Gabriel Conroy, who is the nephew of Julia and Kate Morkan, is the main character of the story. One night he and his wife attended a party, which was given by his two aunts, and there were many other members in the party. The story revolves around their life and memories.Gabriel Conroy felt a blur between his soul and the dead. Some people died, but they are still alive because they have true love. Some people are alive, but they are still dead because they never love.I like the story for three reasons.

I kept my eyes closed shut on the way in. I held my breath as If I were going diving, but I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I knew I had to stay still or else, so I peeked and I saw the red light. It was beaming down on my chest, as I lay there, hopeless as the bed shifted side to side. The only thing that came to mind was the panic button, a grey clicker with a large red button. Yet, all I could think of is if I pressed it, I would have to start all over.

I woke up looking around not knowing what was going on. I looked around realizing that I was in an unknown bed. Panicking at first I tried to find my bearings, but I calmed down quickly as I watched my mother walk into the room.

I remember falling asleep, but I don’t remember being in a bed. I had fallen asleep in the hall due to my emotional state. My body didn’t need the sleep. My mind did. I’m actually happy I did. It got my mind off all my problems and sorrows for a good while. I sit up, pushing the unfamiliar blankets off my body. I’m in a strange hard bed in a foreign room. Everything around me feels new and alien. This isn’t my dull little prison. This room is slightly decorated with light brown walls and a dresser covered with random things.

My legs are shaking with pain, but I need to know where I am and what strange things lie outside of that door way. Slowly I am making my way there, I hear people having a conversation just outside. I haven’t a clue what they are saying, it seems to be in some odd language. Finally I’m at the door. Terrified, I grab the knob and start to open it. It squeaks when I swing it open. In the hall I see no one, just white walls with white tile. “What the,” I say to out loud. I could have sworn I heard someone. My eye catches my room number, 387, it has my name on it. I look right and left, but see nothing expect florescent lighting and shut doors. I go to the door across from mine and try to open it. Locked, that’s odd. I try the next one, locked once again. I keep going, now at room 365 I give the knob a turn and it actually comes open. I hesitantly wander into the area. It looks the same as mine, minus the painting on one of the walls. It is an extremely abnormal painting. It depicts an out of the ordinary creature. “Why would this be in a hospital?” I whisper to myself.

The rooms were confined to themselves by a large metal door with a small slot about 5 feet from the floor that could only be opened from the outside. The walls were once a brilliant white, but now filled with the scratch marks and blood stains from the ones before me. The room stench of urine, most likely from the other patients. All there was in the room was a small cot with a mattress so thin, it almost looked as if it was a thin piece of plywood. As I laid there strapped to my bed by leather restraints that were made to “protect” me from myself, I kept pondering on the question “what did I do to deserve to be locked up in a place like this?” Then I remember my crime, and smile.

I wake up and I am not entirely sure where I am at. I am laying in a bed and rolling around as someone is pushing me. The door infront of me opens manually and I am pushed through the door still not knowing what is going on. I have a sling on my arm, but I cannot feel it at all. My right arm is numb from the shoulder down, but as I am rolled into my room I see my mother, father, and grandma sitting and waiting on me. I remember now; I just came out of shoulder surgery that could possibly make or break my baseball career. The doctor comes in and explained what happened in the operating room, and explains that everything went very well. He had no complications and that after I get food in my system that I could leave. Everything was happening

I open my eyes and the first thing I notice besides the fact that I’m not in my room was the giant pile of shattered glass. I look away from the pile of glass and see a large group of tents and at least ten campfires. Instinctively I get up and start walking towards the tents. All of a sudden a strangely dressed man appears in front of me in a puff of smoke. I fall on my butt out of sheer shock.

When I woke up, I had no idea where I was, until seconds later when I realized almost everything in the room was white. My hair was pulled out of my bun and I was wearing a patient's gown. There was a lady in baby blue shirt with little snoopy dogs on it leaning over the bed with a clipboard in her left hand, and a pen in her right. The instant I moved my head to look around, I regretted it and let my head flop back down, then regretted that even more. My whole right side of my body felt like it was being burned and stabbed right there on the spot. I moaned and I heard my mom's voice, just a little too

I could feel a thin sheet of fabric on top of my weak body. As I regain my conscious, I could hear repetitive beeps next to me. I turn to my left to see a heart monitor. I could see each vibrant green line waving up and down. I was in a room of white. A white blanket, white furnishings, white walls, and white marble floors. When the realization that I was in a hospital, I begin to panic. Where is my family? Where am I? How long have I been out? Just as I was going to try to move out of the bed, an outburst of doors flew open and a nurse in white walked

“Nuit of the Living Dead” written by David Sedaris, the setting in rural France leads to part of the comedic element of this story. Reading this story very much feels like trying to follow an ADD chipmunk. There are generally several thought patterns running simultaneously throughout the entire thing. It’s a quick, fun, charmingly quirky read.

I woke up from a loud Bang! I did not know what it was. I walked out of the security footage room. To see that there was a trail of something on the floor, splattered on the wall. I tried to act like I was not tired, so Mr. Body would not know. I did not want to make any assumptions about what that stuff was on the floor, it might frighten people. So I tried to wake myself up. I failed I was still tired. I walked through the hall pass the ballroom. The trail I have been following leads to the conservatory. I was frightened at what I might see. I went over and cracked the door. I saw something I would never see again. I saw Mr. Body lies there dead! He was just there before I took a nap! Oh my god! I am so getting fired. So I went back to the room, I saw a woman she shot him she...she killed

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