The Watchers: A Narrative Analysis

So, Ainsley does not prepare like the note says, because for all she knows, she could be imagining all of this. She remembers seeing studies about how much psychological damages occur to people in solitary confinement. Just as she drifts in and out of sleep, eager to dream about her children, the heavy metal door in her room slowly creaks open. Ainsley jerks out of bed as she sees a tall female guard silhouetted in the

Boys and girls, husbands and wives, grown ups and kids sometimes struggle to find themselves. Some will face their problems while others will ignore them and walk away. In the short story “The Life You Save May Be Your Own” by Flanenry O’Conner, a main character struggles trying to find himself and his redemtion in society. O’Conner developes three characters, a woman, her daughter, and a man, Shiftlet. The three characters are standing outside the woman’s house. Shiftlet is watching the automobile while the woman is trying to marry off her daughter. They finally come to a compromise and Shiftlet is given the option to stay with her and make the write decision or leave her and make the wrong. He choses the wrong decision and abandons her. The reader is not given what happens to Shiftlet, and is left wondering how he ends up. An important theme of the story that O’Conner developes focuses in on the idea of redemption and that humans have the option to save themselves. The author claims you are always given the option to choose good or bad, resulting in concequenses. In Flannery O’Conner’s story “The Life You Save May Be Your Own”, she developes biblical allusions and symbolism to make her claim of redemption and you can save yourself.

It was a dreary day, as it was every day here. The sky permeates with hate. The sun hiding from the horror under a blanket of darkness. The door to our barracks slams open and I knew it was my time. Some of the new prisoners were up and ready not knowing what approached them while us more wary prisoners hid as we had heard the stories. They round all of us up but what awaited us was so grimmer.

It was like the moment; everything seemed to be clear, just instantly became clouded yet again. Just as Esther thought, her first taste of freedom wasn 't far out of reach, a gate of confinement came crashing down at her. Esther was both frozen physically, and emotionally with the fear of getting extreme punishment, and possibly death. Inside she knew that she had been captured, all she could think about now was, what will come on her, and her daughter? With a pistol pointed at the back of her head, the mysterious southerner begins to walk closer, and as he did Esther 's chances of seeing victory on the other side were becoming even slimmer. slim. Turn around, you do as I say now, both, you and your child will not be harmed. As Esther

“No. Not now. The garrison soldiers are listening to us.” my brother said walking in our private room. “Anyways I’m not letting my little brother get in trouble.” he said in with a happy grin. My brother is the leader of the group in our area. “I know it isn’t good to wait but we need to act in secrecy.” Then something was happening is the center of town while we were walking to our homes.

In the book the “Engaged Observer” Dana Ain-Davis defines institutional time as time lost by poor, disadvantaged people while they wait for the government and/or bureaucracies to meet their basic needs and human rights. The concept of institutional time is evident in Aida Hernandez Castillo’s field experience. He worked with the women of Chiapas who experienced political violence at the hands of their government. Even though former USA President Bill Clinton signed The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act in 1996, which was intended to aid and protect battered women unfortunately the Act later mandated women to work in order to receive or continue receiving benefits. As a result the women of Chiapas experienced not

Have you ever been in a life or death situation? Most people say, “No”. However, Corrie ten Boom can say, “Yes”. This blessed woman can testify that these situations challenge one’s sense of right and wrong, but it is up to each individual to prove that he will still choose the right over the wrong even when he may die because of that decision. Everyone agrees that Mary’s situation could result in death. However, some say that Corrie and the Jewish fugitives should accept Mary while other short-cited people say that Corrie and the Jewish fugitives should not accept Mary. Corrie and the Jewish fugitives should accept Mary for these three reasons, no other house will hide Mary, God will protect them, and Corrie will be more

“AHHH!” I screeched. My voice echoed and I crumpled to the floor. As I lay on the ground, a smell seemed to enter and toxicate the air. I didn’t run, I didn’t fight the urge to fall asleep, I didn’t care if I died right there and then. In my mind I had already died, and my spirit was still back in bed dreaming of nothing important. I was just a body, a body waiting to meet the horror of this white prison. As I lay crying and beginning to holsinate another wave of white washed over me.

  Why did you leave me alone! Why'd you betray me! She'd scream out into nothingness. She fought against a restraint. What the hell is holding me back!? All she could see was thousands of trees. She screamed out. A blood curdling scream. Clarke was awaken to the sound of twigs crackling. She sat straight up not registering her tear stained cheeks or how her clothes were damp with sweat. The only thing she did notice was there was a small fire and her pot from out of her bag with water in

Her whole world was crashing down. It what seemed like only a split second, her best friend’s father had been condemned to death. Someone who she considered to be like a father was going to be taken away, ripped away from her.

I walked to the room at the end of the hall that led to the attic. I slowly placed my foot on the first step, calling out for Nancy. When I finally reached the top, I saw a long haired woman standing by the window with her backed turned to me. "Chelsea? What the hell are you doing here?" She was holding an axe in her hand and I started backing up, with no intention on going any further. She turned around and to my surprise, it was not Chelsea at all, but Nancy. She had blood rolling down her forehead, from the scalp that was ripped from Chelsea's head. "Oh, Dear," she said. "You gave me quite a fright." She started walked toward me. "What do you think?" She asked, running her fingers through the

She was forced to watch it- guilty never felt so horrible. Each time a bruise or a deep, bloody scar appeared on her friend’s body, Soon-Young shrieked in horror and begged for mercy. Salty tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyes were bright red but she didn’t care. It was unbearable to watch a group of monstrous, heartless soldiers torturing her friend in all sorts of way. And they seemed to enjoy it.

The grey, concrete walls made goose-bumps appear on her arms. Because they were cold, not frightening she kept reminding herself. She had nothing to worry about. Walking slowly through security; metal detectors, search dogs, frisk searches, the whole lot. Walking out she had gained a feeling of somewhat relief. Finally, she had made it to the main quad. What would instil fear in anyone else excited her; she had arrived at her new job as a nurse, at Acacia Men’s Prison.

It was the year 3028, after World War 3. World War 3 had been pretty much the downfall of humanity, we had bombed each other senseless and everything was polluted, radiated, and destroyed. Except one little spot in Massachusetts where everything and everyone was protected from the outside world. The US government realized the conclusion of this war was going to be disastrous and made a metal dome for the residents of that area. The government then made one in space, right above the other dome. They called the space dome the Rotunda. The smaller dome and it’s people need the Rotunda to survive, the government and special officials go into the Rotunda and they soon started pulling the resourceful people from the dome into the Rotunda. The “others”,

Scuttling innocently through the twisting corridors I bore the same expression; head down, shoulders hunched, avoiding any eye contact - my desperate attempts to deter the despot for one day at least. Despite my efforts, there was no escape, as seemingly within the second of having that naively optimistic thought, a cruel, callous voice demanded I surrender my broach. Fear spiked, as it always did, but with it came something else, an alien emotion ... Looking back now, I see that it must have been the cumulative effect of months of torment that brought me to the realisation that at this point I had reached the nadir of my life. Deriding cackles pierced my ears and this time I recognised the emotion, fury. It burned through my veins, along with the memories of the past to form a feeling of overwhelming power. I met the daggers that would usually invoke terror, and calmly, I said “No.”