Holger Ernst

Tar Baby It is often said that it is better to follow your heart instead of your mind because it will never lie to you. However, when you follow your heart you are not always prepared for what the outcome may be. This is proven in Toni Morisson's novel Tar Baby . Tar Baby is Morrison's fourth novel and it took three and a half years to write . The story was based on an old African American folk tale about Brer Rabbit and Tar Baby. This book is said by some to be an excess of what made Morrison's

You get to the base of the glass hill and begin the upward ascent. Even though there is a trail of rocks that is easier to keep a grip on than the pure glass, your feet keep slipping trying to get there. You fall on your hands and knees to keep yourself from tumbling all the way down to the bottom. In some of your stumbles you keep knocking rocks loose from the path. When they are ripped out of the glass hill by your foot there are cracks where there used to be rock and smooth glass. You know if

Jaehun Lee D Block, Film Studies 10/16/16 Grief, Loss, and Everything Josh Kos would Floss (this is not the actual title) Grief and loss are some of the most defining characteristics of the human experience. Therefore, dealing with grief and loss is one of the most important things humans must learn. While there are many approaches, Jennifer Kent uses her film The Babadook to suggest that suppression is not a healthy way to deal with grief. By thoughtfully planning the mise-en-scene, soundtrack

The play ‘A Raisin in the Sun’ by ‘Lorraine Hansberry’ is about a matriarchy, Lena Younger or known as “Mama” to her family the Youngers who are poverty stricken family. She is about to receive insurance money from her husband’s life insurance policy, which is rightfully hers. However each member of the Youngers family we come into contact with have a plan to use the money for themselves, each individual’s through-line plays a vital role in their dreams, thoughts and choices in the end. Throughout

“Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep” Kissy’s alarm went off, gesturing for her to start up for the day. Kissy went through her normal morning routine, then caught a ride from her best friend Ibbie, and they both continued on to the school day. Kissy was a normal 14 year old girl. She’s got light brown hair, hazel eyes, and was pretty tall for her age. “Kissy has been acting strange lately, not talking very much.” It seems she wants to be outcast from us all. She hasn’t even been talking to me lately, which

Sarah The wind was blowing and leaves were falling, it was fall. It was my favorite time of year. I stood out on my front porch and soaked up the fall breeze and the pumpkin spice smells. Everything was perfect and for a moment it felt like there was nothing wrong with my life. Then I heard her, it was my Mom. “Sarah!” she yelled. “Yes Mom?” I responded. “Come inside and start packing,” she said. “Okay i'll be inside in a minute,” I said back That’s when it hit me, my life wasn't all happy and great

Unfortunately, I have been unwell. The last week has allowed the great English weather to take its toll upon me. I arrived at my lodgings yesterday in such a condition that my landlady, Mrs Whittlesworth reenacted all the actions of an old mother hen. Dressed in her usual attire of black poke bonnet, tied tight around her many chins and an ill-fitting black tea dress, she flapped around me to the point of exhaustion. She then remonstrated on the state of weather we are having, and my lack of a good

Prologue By 1920, Abraham Whitfield was a successful surgeon. He was popular for his expertise in orthopedic surgery, his name has become a household word. And with success comes the wealth he could only dream of as a young struggling resident physician in his place of business. Thus, he lived the life of comfort and built a Victorian mansion in the woods of Natick, Massachusetts. The mansion fronted a sprawling garden of about 70 meters from the road. With his affordability, Abraham married Victoria

Colors are flashing. Faint sounds fill the air. Everything’s a blur, like it’s being swept up by the wind. I try to find my footing and stand up, but I just fall back down again. I try to grasp onto my last memories, searching for answers. The only memory I find is my name. Shailene Fonder. When my vision returns back to normal, I see that I am sitting on the greenest patch of grass. When I look around, I see that it is my own front yard, yet I don’t remember my life before the blur. I see trees

Arriving at the home of my sperm donor, a sense of nostalgia wafts over me. The house hides itself from sight along the roadway. Your trek begins with the driveway. The slick pavement of the road stumbles until it falls to pieces at the base of this driveway. Walking up it, the rock ground trembles and causes a falter in each step; the bulbous stones kiss your feet as if peasants meeting their king. The walk up passes quickly. Before long, the house is within your sights. It resides about 30 yards