They All Just Went Away Poem

After Sarah wished the Goblin King would come and take Toby away, she could no longer hear the crying coming from the nursery. Panic and regret flashed across her face because she knew something had happened to Toby. Her dilemma is easily relatable to anyone who has ever thought something awful, only to feel guilty instantly, as if his or her mere thoughts had become actions. In the midst of her panic, Jareth enters in a flurry of glitter. Flamboyant, charismatic, and mysterious, Jareth is the embodiment of Sarah’s struggle to want to keep the playful innocence of her childhood instead of growing up to the sensual pleasures of adulthood. The labyrinth itself represents Sarah’s late-adolescent, convoluted mind while baby Toby signifies the responsibility of adulthood. But far from being a dry intellectual exploration of a teenager’s existential angst, Labyrinth is an amusing escapade, filled with witty riddles, and infused with absurd little comic touches that keep you smiling and guessing. In Jareth’s labyrinth, everything seems possible and nothing is what it seems. Sarah must endure a series of trials designed to complicate and divert her from her task of reaching the center of the labyrinth and rescuing

Society judges those who are different both physically and mentally and those that don’t fit in with the social norm but it is up to the individuals to look past that and rise against their judgement. Shane Koyczan’s ‘To This Day’, is a poem about those who have been bullied throughout their lives and its long term impact it leaves. The poem tells multiple stories of the victims of bullying due to their physical appearance or their mental state. The poem begins with a personal adecdote talking about how he earned his first nickname. The anecdote is used to allow the readers of the poem to relate as it doesn’t rely on the abstract logic as the anecdote provides proof. He tells his story about how he used to love pork chops, and didn’t know the difference between pork chops and karate chops, until he was called pork

An article by Joyce Oates titled “They All Just Went Away” written in 1969. Oates tells us a story about an abandoned house called the Weidel House. This house was for the Weidel’s family where the cruel father used to hit his wife and treat his family badly. One time, the cruel father went angry then he burned the house. After the house was burned, two or three years later, Oates saw Ruth Weidel who were Mr. Weidle’s daughter and asked her where her family had gone after the fire and she answered “They all just went away”. Oates was sympathized with Ruth, but she could not really understand Ruth’s feelings because she had not been in such situation before. There is a difference between sympathy and empathy. Both

When I almost reached the door, I felt something at my foot, a broken hourglass, that had ran out of sand. Shaking and suddenly bursting into a cold sweat, I furiously jammed the key in. It felt like an eternity, but finally I succeeded. Pushing the door open, and wiping a faceful of sweat from my face, I felt this wave of aromas crash over me. Putting the key in my pocket(FORESHADOWING) and then entering the cellar I tried to calm down. I tried to look for the cask of Amontillado that I bought several weeks ago. There were millions of wines in that cellar (HYPERBOLE). But at last I found it. It felt, lighter, and after opening it I realised that it was empty. I wasn’t enraged, just tired. I made my way to the door, suddenly feeling drowsy. Then I became a little bit nauseous and shaky. Looking into the darkness, I saw, darkness. So I picked up my dying torch and put it up and almost yelled “Who’s there?”. There was no reply but a figure seemed to appear in the darkness. It was carrying a scythe and it started towards me. I fell back, and was caught by the wall, slamming my head against it and dropping my torch. The figure whispered in the dark, “Free the fortunate one, for be warned fate will find

The narrator in this torture chamber is submitted to several kinds of traps and torments: the pit, the rats and the closing walls. He tries to escape from each one of these but every time he succeeds he finds himself in a worse situation than he was before. Inside the chamber he is deprived of the sense of sight so at first he cannot know where he is or what dangers surround him. His will however

The creature is aware of how much strength he possesses and often has moments of pure rage while contemplating the general destruction of all that surrounds him.

Death is the undeniable force that compels people into extreme situations. The Demon in the Freezer, by Richard Preston, is a dystopian novel that focuses on smallpox and the eradication of the horrific disease. On the other hand, Lost Horizon, by James Hilton, is a utopian novel set on a surreal island where a perfect society is idealized. These two novels present a central theme about human nature; however, it is displayed in different ways as shown through the contrasting genres of books. The novels' use of conflict, as well as diction, tone, and mood; along with motifs, present the theme that the fear of death pushes people to extreme behaviors.

I used to be proud of who I was. I used to be free, but I’ve fallen, slowly stripped bare of all I was and could have been. I resent them, those who gruesomely ripped me from my haven and shackled me beneath their feet. I resent the world for abandoning me in this hell, leaving me to suffer. I resent who I have become, a puppet, used only for their entertainment. The devil only grows within me, plaguing my mind during the sleepless nights. Feeding images into my mind. Images of their blood splattered across the walls of their beloved blue and red (tent). My teeth sinking into the fatty flesh of their neck. The horror painted on their faces as I gleefully avenge the loss of my sanity. And I detest myself. I loathe the satisfaction that I feel fantasising about their murder. I fear myself, and what I have become under their control. I yearn for the days I spent in my

This symbolizes the darkness of a world without hope, without decency and without humanity. This challenges my experiences, as I have witnessed the harsh environments of a war-torn country, however, the novel presents scenes that even exceed my own imaginations of fear and trepidation. And as a result, the novel forces me to

A murderous Warlock is on the rampage, and he will not give up. Evil is about to invade Kaye’s ordinary life, determined to bind her within its torturous grasp with monsters and mayhem around every corner.

From a young age, I drew images of flowers, rainbows, birds and bees. I felt connection with the Earth. Slowly the story world began to crumble my innermost being. It felt like being ripped from my earthly knowing and innermost self. To compensate I succumb to parts of the mainstream story at various junctures in my life and the internal conflict was enormous. (Insert Images)

I would shut my eyes because I knew what was coming. And before I shut my eyes, I held my breath, like a swimmer ready to dive into a deep ocean. I could never watch when his hands came toward me; I only patiently waited for the harsh sound of the strike. I would always remember his eyes right before I closed my own: pupils wide with rage, cold, and dark eyebrows clenched with hate. When it finally came, I never knew which fist hit me first, or which blow sent me to my knees because I could not bring myself to open my eyes. They were closed because I didn’t want to see what he had promised he would never do again. In the darkness of my mind, I could escape to a paradise where he would never reach me. I would find again the haven where I

I slowly open my eyes and I am terrified. Where am I? How did I get here? I can hear many loud booms which I presume to be the constant shelling of my brothers-in-arms. I see syrettes, saws and lots of black rats lying dead with unearthly expressions of anguish on their grotesque faces. There is fresh blood on the floor next to me, a bitter metallic smell penetrating my nose. I close my eyes for a second to regain my composure and when I open them fragments of information start coming back to me.

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.”

A stream of bitter tears descended from my gloomy eyes, like a broken necklace of pearls as the spiteful ridicules continually stabbed me in the heart. I felt like a caged rat, constantly being poked at by big sharp excruciating sticks. I was in an everlasting calamitous nightmare.