The Scarlet Ibis Pride Analysis

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Pride can be a fulfilling quality at times, it can be your antagonist. It often breeds to cruelty. In “The Scarlet Ibis”, written by James Hurst, cruel pride is shown perfectly and tragically. In which Brother, the narrator, wanted a normal brother, a partner who could do leisure activities with. “I thought myself pretty smart at many things, like holding my breath, running, jumping, climbing vines in Old Woman Swamp, and I wanted more than anything else someone to race to Horsehead Landing, someone to box with, and someone to perch within the top fork of the great pine behind the barn, where across the fields and swamps you could see the sea. I wanted a brother.” (Hurst 595). Instead, he was born with “ invalid brother…” (Hurst 595). So ashamed, he killed his wounded brother trying to make him normal. In fact, pride can takeover your mindset without your awareness. As an illustration, I love bowling. But my siblings, on the other hand, it didn't come in their genes. Sometimes when we play on teams, I’d pressure them to get as many pins as they can. I’d get so mad if they failed me that I’d yell at them what they did wrong or even switch teams. It would be so ghastly that they ignore me till I apologize. Brother related to this when they were running home during the rigorous hurricane. He raced him thinking that it would trigger his flight or fright responses and would make him run even faster. “The lightning was near now, and from fear, he walked so close behind me he kept stepping on my heels. The faster I walked, the faster he walked, so I began to run.” (Hurst 604). Not only did pride seize my mentality, it controlled my mother’s. When I was younger, I witnessed my own mother stress my brother over his grades. My older sisters were unusually brilliant in school and my mother didn’t want the streak to be ruined. Almost every evening, she’d sit down with him and they’d have extra practice on assignments and projects. In “The Scarlet Ibis”, Brother forced Doodle to walk. “When Doodle was five years old, I was embarrassed at having a brother of that age who couldn’t walk, so I set out to teach him.” (Hurst 597). “‘I just can't do it. Let’s make honeysuckle wreaths.’ ‘Oh yes you can, Doodle,’ I

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