Wynonna's A Dolls: A Short Story

She forced my stiff neck upward and noticed for the first time another figure strewn upon the floor beside her. Her stomach dropped and bile began to rise in her throat. No, no, no, please let me be wrong. Using the little strength remaining in her arms she heaved myself towards the figure. She closed her eyes afraid to recognize the reality she was certain to be true. Finally after what felt like an eternity she opened my eyes and came face to face with her nightmare. Rhys lay his face pale and silent, there was nothing left for him to say, he had no voice, nor soul, nor life. Giant pearls of liquid rolled down her face splattering against her forearm stinging at the cuts.

“Who are they?” Asked Georg quickly, straining his eyes to see what the other gladly would not have seen. “Wolves.”

“WELL I DARE YOU TO ATTACK THE TOWN OF HEOROT.” He bellowed out. The whole room went silent. Then the only sound was claws

She simply nodded back, smiling tightly and hoping her brown hair would fall into her eyes thus hiding her face but it was pinned back. She mentally kicked herself for pinning her bangs back this morning. “So what do you have?” His older brother asked. “Honestly, it's kinda strange. The girl was drained of blood then dumped behind a dumpster.” She looked up at him and only him. “So vamp?” He asked in a quiet tone. She shook her head at his question and received a quizzical look in return. “There’s no bite mark so I’m assuming it was a Djinn.” “But why would a Djinn dump the body?” The younger one jumped in. Her heart stopped for a moment. She didn’t expect him to speak to her, she hoped that they’d never really speak to one another. It hurt just being in his presence much less having him actually speak to her. She shrugged, not trusting herself to actually speak to him. “Are you sure it's a Djinn?” The older of the two asked me. “If you have a better suggestion, please, do tell.” She had snapped at him. He didn’t flinch or even look upset by her comment but gave her a sympathetic look. She let out a sigh before

“Fine,” she looked up as a man with a scar running down his cheek smiled sinisterly. She didn’t trust him, she moved to try to get out of his reach but he pulled his arm out. Her eyes widened in horror as his fist came forward, she had stopped crying, watching the fist as if it was coming at her slowly. When it hit her face she barely registered it, it didn’t hurt, only stung and sent a shock through her body. Another fist came, then another. Her vision was going blurry, she heard them say something but she couldn’t make out what it was as her body fell limp against the seat and her eyes shut, unable to handle the pain in her

The men all erupted into laughter. “We aren’t hunting no deer tonight, boy. We are going to keep the town safe tonight by decreasing the wolf population.”

rubbed her eyes frantically trying to adjust to the bright light she'd be exposed to with absolutely no warning. She'd wondered

“Concentrate, Aiden!” He clapped his hands. “Please you really need to focus. This is important. Children have to be careful when they venture into the forest. There’s a pack of wild, voracious wolves with gaping mouths reeling with fangs and forked tongues each as thick as my wrist. They roam the woods, ten feet or more, and then hung in the trees, breathing raggedly tasting your scent, considering how best to devour you. As a matter of fact only, the other day several of them snatched a baby elf out of its sleeping mother’s arms and thrashed the poor little dear to pieces.

"This is not the time to sleep!" screamed Ulrich. "There are wolves running towards us, you can sleep when we escape!"

“I suppose he is the side that’s my familiar.” The woman gave a hint of a chuckle. “Most witches are rather dull. Consumed with coven duties and various old rituals. Most of them haven’t been brought into this century.” There was clear disdain in her tone for her own kind, but she swiftly changed direction. “I couldn’t sense what you were immediately. If I had known, I don’t know if I would have helped. Werewolves are not something we ever want to mix with. Not only does it go against our laws, but we all have our own struggle with the war.” She wasn’t even sure why she was trying to justify her actions to him.

I’d become so consumed with thoughts of uncertainty, regarding Margaret’s antics, and whether I should adhere to my body’s urge to trail her, that I nearly became disconnected from the physical realm; and, if it wasn’t for the indignant roars of thunder, it’s quite possible that I would have remained, there, for hours. Promptly after coming to, however, the entirety of my body began to shiver. Each raindrop felt to be swelling with time, and I immediately wished to act on the situation, but my mind questioned how. I questioned how angry she would be with me, considering how she responded to even the minutest attempts of humor or to accompany her, and questioned whether it would truly be worth the

The enforcement of specific gender roles by societal standards in 19th century married life proved to be suffocating. Women were objects to perform those duties for which their gender was thought to have been created: to remain complacent, readily accept any chore and complete it “gracefully” (Ibsen 213). Contrarily, men were the absolute monarchs over their respective homes and all that dwelled within. In Henrik Ibsen’s play, A Doll’s House, Nora is subjected to moral degradation through her familial role, the consistent patronization of her husband and her own assumed subordinance. Ibsen belittles the role of the housewife through means of stage direction, diminutive pet names and through Nora’s interaction with her morally ultimate

In “A Doll House” by Henrik Ibsen was created during 1800s time period. This play helps shine a light on the gender roles of the 1800s while also creating a twist that was uncommon for this period. During this time period, women were left home to oversee the domestic duties, while men went to commuted to work (Hughes). Men were seen as physically superior but morally inferior to women; which is also portrayed within this book (Hughes). This play marks the beginning of Henrik Ibsen’s realist period, which he explored the ordinary lives of small-town people (Kirszner and Mandell 881). This “modern tragedy” helped make Ibsen famous internationally because of the real-life story it captured (Kirszner and Mandell 882). Henrik Ibsen uses an array of literary devices to help keep the reader captivated from beginning to end. Three of the most prominent literary devices used by Henrik Ibsen are symbolism, foreshadowing, and an array of themes. These literary devices help transform a basic play into a complex story of lies and deception.

Nora Hemler – The protagonist of the play and the wife of Torvald Helmer. Nora initially seems like a playful, naïve child who lacks knowledge of the world outside her home and a bit of a ditz. When her husband, Torvald, calls her things like his "little squirrel," his "little lark," and, worst of all, a "featherhead," she doesn 't seem to mind. Experiences and knowledge have enabled her to see her position in her marriage with increasing clarity and finds the strength to free herself from her oppressive situation.

A Doll’s House was published in Norway in 1879 by Henrik Isben. He is known as the father of Modern Theatre. He is also referred as the father of realism. The play is very interesting because of the funny dialogue, the unique characters, and Ibsen 's view of the place of ladies in the public eye. The main characters of the play is Nora Helmer and her husband Torvald Helmer. Imagine what it would be like to live in a doll 's home? It 's a house in which you are controlled and have no energy to settle on any solid choice; It 's a house in which you are a play thing for another person 's amusement. This sounds a ton like an awful marriage, so it 's a house in which your husband holds the satchel strings, in a manner of speaking, and abandons you with no influence over your family 's accounts. In fact, your husband keeps you on a tightrope. Such is the perceived life of Nora Helmer.