Tundra Welty: A Short Story

Despite his inexperience at living off the land, Chris Mccandless managed to survive in the Alaskan wilderness for a time. His adventures across the United States contributed to honing his skills at surviving with inadequate supplies, little money, and few essential tools. Unfortunately This was not enough, and his inexperience on the finer points of outdoor living and general knowledge of particular subjects proved to create more challenges, and finally this inexperience killed him. Particularly, with his successful kill of a moose we see a perfect example of his ignorance, “Then on June 9, he bagged the biggest prize of all: “MOOSE!” (166.) His tendency to brashly tackle everything head on with will and determination ultimately led to his demise, “Overjoyed, the proud hunter took a photograph of himself kneeling over his trophy, rifle triumphantly overhead, his features distorted in a rictus of ecstasy and amazement.” (166.)

In a thousand spots the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie broken and strewed on the ground; some entirely destroyed, others bent, leaning upon the rocks of the mountain or transversely upon other trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of the

Throughout the valley floor, superb sceneries cover the region with delightful trees and magnificent meadows. Exquisite views of the sheer rock faces surround the valley. While walking through the fields, you can feel the moist grass grazing your legs. There’s always the sweet smell of flowering plants, extensive rivers, and tremendous woodlands. You can hear the distant sounds of the crashing waterfalls,

“There once was a time when it did not rain for a great many months. The Prairie turned brown from the Sun, and the Great River that nurtured the land began to dry up. The Plants struggled against the dry Earth to breathe and grow, while the Animals became weak and could not hunt. All the while the People waited, looking towards the sky and wondering what they had done to bring such misfortune upon themselves. While the People waited, Fear grew. This Fear grew so quickly that in a very short time it began to spread across the entire Prairie, choking out everything and everyone in its path until at last it covered all but one very small place in the Prairie where only the Children and the Old Ones would sit and play together.

The troll’s knees buckled. Then he crumbled into a pile of pale brown dust that slowly slipped between the cracks in the marble floor. The forest darkened. Splits appeared in the dirt. Trees turned and bowed. A thick dreary haze dissolved the undergrowth and greenery and caved in the dastardly castle. Soon there was nothing left but ruins and an incensed gloom under a starless sky.

The visual depicts a small Native American settlement in an area which once was free of Americans and Europeans, but can be seen to have impacts from both in the visual. The setting sun and glooming l backdrop the settlement. Lastly, the image depicts two sparse and dwindling patches of greenery.

I was beginning to prepare for the next residency and I realized that I was not looking forward to hearing presentations from liberal and leftist progressive ideologues who seem unable to keep their opinions to themselves and just teach writing. Then I began watching Cold Mountain, the next PBIC and movie and once again, it's all about depraved ignorant southerners, a coward that runs from war, and slavery. I'm not sure why the faculty keeps returning to slavery and oppression in required books and movies again and again, but it's truly become repulsive for me. There's plenty of other optimistic works that could serve this purpose for learning.

Life in the town of Stoneshade was fairly simple. The weather is always warm, although the sun never seems to shine. The Stoneshade river brings us fresh water from Marianne's glacier, just north of us in the mountains. The people here are mainly happy, but I can’t be one voice for everyone, since the town is too big to know every person in it. In fact, it’s more like a city than a town, but since everyone lives so far away from each other, it doesn’t have the city feel to it. In between the many houses are a vast range of trees, which is where most of us spend our time. Even though our town has the high technology of any other place, the residents prefer to stay outside, and for a good reason, too.

I struggle each step, four weeks I have walked, and the cold drenching flood of exhaustion hangs at my heels. The crow urges me on and onwards I go. Sometimes I stumble, and sometimes I fall, and the crow calls again and I raise. I refuse to die like this, I will not fall to the weary. I will not die from the frigid cold. Only by blade will I accept death, and so, I continue. Over mountains I tread, my beard growing long bushy and white, shielding my wrinkled skin from the elements. Bounding over ice-frozen streams with walking stick in hand. Soon, the land loses it’s green, and becomes painted in only black ice and grey stone. The chill of the winter changes in feeling. Not only was my body cold, but this dark land chilled the very essence of my soul. The ice loses it’s reflection and instead shows the bones of the damned. Lost bodies entrapped to frost prisoners of their fate. Their skulls empty of emotion aside from the layers of preserved flesh in the snow. Yet, I continue on. I know well that I may be among these bones soon. Be it either the shadow giant, or one of its beasts. I cross over a frejold of black muck once had been snow. It clasps at my wolf-fur boots as though it desires a great hunger, and with each tearing step forward I grow

The short satirical story, “Hunters in the Snow” by Tobias Wolff elicits society’s problems and struggles through three men. In this short story, the three men (Kenny, Frank, and Tub) decide to go out hunting on a gelid winter’s day, but end with empty hopes as the day draws to an end. Returning with poor attitudes, the men let emotions take control of their actions and choose to make careless decisions which alter their relationship and shows how they disregard their moral values.

Hidden in the seclusion of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, sits a tranquil pond blanketed in a sheet of fragile ice. From atop the limestone peaks, the glistening rays of the morning sun tint the mountain side a sunburnt orange. The sloped peaks of the rippled mountain side are covered in snow, like they have been dusted with icing sugar, and cast a foreboding shadow over the pond below. In the valley, the arid, yellowed grass has been suffocated by the thick layer of snow and ice, for the winter storm has hit hard this season and spring has arrived later than usual. Yet, beside the frozen pool, there lies a growth of bright, rich evergreens, their trunks rising towards the stars, and their branches extending to the shape of a cone. From them,

I grabbed my balls, groaning in misery as I rolled around on the wet concrete. I could tell they were both in my hand, even though it felt like I was choking on them.

On a desolate battle scarred wasteland standing tall and proud are the four cities of war. The tyrannical leaders that have come into possession of the land treasure and citizens of these cities have hearts made only from hatred. The kings of each city may claim to be fulfilling the wishes of the gods. The southern barbarians and the malefic goddess Lerithia lay claim to the dangerous black forest known by the Lerith as only “The grounds”. Any creature that enters within the tangled inescapable web of thorns and branches the only manner of escape is death from the ripping agony of Larthorn that grow ferociously in the hills of the black and unforgiving mountains.

I’m visiting a tundra and I have to tell you how unique this place is. They get less that ten

When the sun slowly peeps over the range of mountains, birds shake the morning dew off their feathers and give a cheerful song that would lift even the most sorrowful of spirits. A light fog wraps around the mountain range, reaching to touch every bit of life thriving there. The slight chill in the air is enough to give a gentle shiver, but not enough for the need of a jacket. A breeze tickles the trees, making their leaves shake and sway with laughter. Sunlight seeps in past the thick canopy of branches with hopes of being able to reach the damp mountain earth. The mountains are the best place to live to be relaxed, see the most beauty, and never get bored.