Impending Doom I gingerly stepped on to the ship, as it wobbled side-to-side; slightly fearful of the soft blue sheet beneath me stretching to the horizon, undulating like the heaving breast of a runner having completed a race. At nineteen years old, some may think it is juvenile to fear the ocean, but not to me. I mean, how could someone look at the rising tides; getting closer each time, as if impending doom, and not get even the slightest chills of fear? And living above those rising tides for seven whole days? My stomach leaped forward. I heard my friends stepping on behind me: laughing and bickering playfully, and could slowly feel the fear begin to dissipate as excitement for the upcoming voyage took over my senses. It only grew as I glanced around. The inside of the cruise ship strangely but incredibly resembled a mixture of the buzzing and stimulating surroundings of Las Vegas, and the posh and classy atmosphere of Beverly Hills; which happened to be two of my favorite places; living in the States as we did. There were large branded stores, casinos, restaurants with worldwide cuisines, a games arcade; where I just knew the guys would …show more content…
Hurry it up will you?! We want to go zip lining!” My best friend, Katherine, or Kat, hollered across the arcade to the seemingly impervious boys who were leisurely enjoying a game of snooker. This was the third day of our insane journey and most likely our tenth time wanting to be attached onto a hook and thrown across a wire, with the clear blue skies above, and ocean beneath. It took me a while to get used to the idea of being hung above my biggest fear by a flimsy wire. I would feel as if I was falling down a bottomless pit each time. As the boys finally finished their game and moved toward us, we sighed and started heading toward our destination, stopping by the frozen yogurt machine for a refreshment to cool us from the ever-shining sun in wherever we are at this point; somewhere near Cozumel, Mexico I
In the document “Doomed to Perish”: George Catlin’s Depictions of the Mandan by Katheryn S. Hight, she analyzes the work of George Catlin while he traveled to the Mandan colony west of the Missouri River. Hight identifies that Catlin created a false and imaginative depiction of the Mandan Indians based on his social and political ideas which ended up creating an entertainment enterprise rather than reporting history. Catlin’s extravagant depictions of the Indians, which did have an impact on the Indian Policy in America, seemingly motivates Hight to write on this subject.
But nearly as soon as Marion's dreams of sailing became reality, the reality became a nightmare. On the voyage home, a whale rammed the schooner, ripping the seams and sending water into the hold. Before the schooner went down, the captain, al...
Some of the most intriguing stories of today are about people’s adventures at sea and the thrill and treachery of living through its perilous storms and disasters. Two very popular selections about the sea and its terrors are The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger and “The Wreck of the Hesperus” by Henry Longfellow. Comparison between the two works determines that “The Wreck of the Hesperus” tells a more powerful sea-disaster story for several different reasons. The poem is more descriptive and suspenseful than The Perfect Storm, and it also plays on a very powerful tool to captivate the reader’s emotion. These key aspects combine to give the reader something tangible that allows them to relate to the story being told and affects them strongly.
John Markoff's "The Doomsday Machine" is an intriguing view on how our technology may exponentially improve into the future, but the essay fails to support the thesis statement that our technology will eventually destroy the human race. His dire predictions for our future are based on theories as well as conclusions that are themselves based on theories. These predictions do not account for how other simultaneous technological advancements and the desire for profit will affect our world. It ignores the power of human imagination, ingenuity, feelings, and personal motivation. There is also a complete disregard for God's plan.
What would students think if they went into school on a beautiful April day not knowing that it was their last; would they be terrified to attend school, or would they skip school? Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, two Columbine High School students, went to Columbine High School on April 20, 1999 and killed people’s lives. Columbine raises questions, such as, who were Dylan and Eric, what was their plan, how did they achieve their goal, and what was the aftermath of that horrific day?
The ocean is mysterious to mankind. The unfathomable vastness of the ocean intrigues humanity into exploring it. In life, the immense possibilities that lie in the future compel us to reach for the stars. In the poem “The Story” by Karen Connelly, an individual willingly swims into deep waters even though they are fearful of what may exist in the waters. The swimmer later finds out that their fears were foolish, which illustrates the human tendency to venture into the unknown. The theme conveyed in this poem is that life is like a rough, uncertain, uncontrollable ocean that we must find get through with experience.
Where are we going? This is a fundamental question, one of several asked by the founders and thinkers of the world's largest religions. Each of the major religions has its own answer, and the study of these answers is called eschatology. In this essay, I'll take a secular look at the eschatological evolution of the Abrahamic religions, from Judaism to Christianity and finally to Islam. I will discuss the impact of these apocalyptic scenarios on people who do not practice each faith, and show that ultimately, answers to life's questions come from within.
The smell of the restaurants faded and the new, refreshing aroma of the sea salt in the air took over. The sun’s warmth on my skin and the constant breeze was a familiar feeling that I loved every single time we came to the beach. I remember the first time we came to the beach. I was only nine years old. The white sand amazed me because it looked like a wavy blanket of snow, but was misleading because it was scorching hot. The water shone green like an emerald, it was content. By this I mean that the waves were weak enough to stand through as they rushed over me. There was no sense of fear of being drug out to sea like a shipwrecked sailor. Knowing all this now I knew exactly how to approach the beach. Wear my sandals as long as I could and lay spread out my towel without hesitation. Then I’d jump in the water to coat myself in a moist protective layer before returning to my now slightly less hot towel. In the water it was a completely different world. While trying to avoid the occasional passing jellyfish, it was an experience of
Chronicle of a Death Foretold In Chronicle of a Death Foretold, the narrator tells us that two people were responsible for the death of Santiago Nasar, however the narrator is wrong. Ignorance killed Santiago Nasar. There are three specific townsfolk responsible for the murder; Leandro Pornoy, Divina Flor, and Colonel Lazaro Aponte. Each of these three people had an equal opportunity to stop the murder; however each person’s ignorance caused them to fail in their duty as a fellow citizen. It was their duty after they heard of the Vicario brothers’ plot to kill Santiago
The human voyage into life is basically feeble, vulnerable, uncontrollable. Since the crew on a dangerous sea without hope are depicted as "the babes of the sea", it can be inferred that we are likely to be ignorant strangers in the universe. In addition to the danger we face, we have to also overcome the new challenges of the waves in the daily life. These waves are "most wrongfully and barbarously abrupt and tall", requiring "a new leap, and a leap." Therefore, the incessant troubles arising from human conditions often bring about unpredictable crises as "shipwrecks are apropos of nothing." The tiny "open boat", which characters desperately cling to, signifies the weak, helpless, and vulnerable conditions of human life since it is deprived of other protection due to the shipwreck. The "open boat" also accentuates the "open suggestion of hopelessness" amid the wild waves of life. The crew of the boat perceive their precarious fate as "preposterous" and "absurd" so much so that they can feel the "tragic" aspect and "coldness of the water." At this point, the question of why they are forced to be "dragged away" and to "nibble the sacred cheese of life" raises a meaningful issue over life itself. This pessimistic view of life reflects the helpless human condition as well as the limitation of human life.
OCALYPSE The following chapter explores, some dimensional topoi of the Apocalypse, namely its appearance and effects it produces, in time and space. In the analysis of the apocalyptic discourse, it is fundamental to individuate the spatial and the temporal dimensions, in which a catastrophe brings an according cultural influence, developing a peculiar mindset. Through the delineation of its spatiotemporal coordinates, my intention is to explore the manifestation of an apocalyptic discourse on a cultural and social level, thus, a materialisation of the phenomenon in a realistically, quasi-tangible,
Fear has taken a hold of every man aboard this ship, as it should; our luck is as far gone as the winds that led us off course. For nights and days gusts beyond measure have forced us south, yet our vessel beauty, Le Serpent, stays afloat. The souls aboard her, lay at the mercy of this ruthless sea. Chaotic weather has turned the crew from noble seamen searching for glory and riches, to whimpering children. To stay sane I keep the holy trinity close to my heart and the lady on my mind. Desperation comes and goes from the men’s eyes, while the black, blistering clouds fasten above us, as endless as the ocean itself. The sea rocks our wood hull back and forth but has yet to flip her. The rocking forces our bodies to cling to any sturdy or available hinge, nook or rope, anything a man can grasp with a sea soaked hand. The impacts make every step a danger. We all have taken on a ghoulish complexion; the absence of sunlight led the weak souls aboard to fight sleep until sick. Some of us pray for the sun to rise but thunder constantly deafens our cries as it crackles above the mast. We have been out to sea for fifty-five days and we have been in this forsaken storm for the last seventeen.
I will never forget the first time I went snorkeling, it was something I had been afraid to do up until the moment I touched the water. Beforehand all I could think about was what if I got attacked by a shark? I was too young to die and I felt like I was tempting fate. Then once I made the plunge into the water everything washed away, as if the waves carried the fear with them as they folded over me. I remember that day so clearly, rocking back and forth, up and down, I sat on a small glass bottom boat. The enormous ocean waves making me nauseas as I put my snorkel gear on. I hurried as fast as I could, knowing my nausea would go away as soon as I entered the water. This wasn’t the first time I have gotten sea sick, but it only shows up when the boat is sitting still. As soon as I got my equipment on I jumped into the water, fins first. I felt the sensation of goose bumps shivering up my whole body, tiny bubbles rolling over my body from breaking the surface, they ran from my toes upwards to break free at the ocean’s surface. Once the bubbles cleared, I looked around to see a new blue world I have never experienced before. I heard the sound of the ocean, mumbled by the sound of my deep breathing and the tanks of the more experienced scuba divers below me. It’s a very relaxing and peaceful sound, and if I had not been in such a new and unusual place I could have floated with my eyes closed for hours.
But we did go on the boardwalk almost every night. Every night seemed to be different. We tried to experience everything in a different way. Coastal Highway, not unlike the ocean, seems to go on endlessly. When we were near Coastal Highway, I put my window down and let the smell of the sand and sea waft into the car. The rain had started, but it was only a light mist. The temperature had cooled off now too. I decided to take an evening swim. Some of the waves were raising nearly 10 feet. In the evening when we all entered the beach some lifeguards were announcing that tides are so strong. Though I was not
Rolling waves gently brushed upon the sand and nipped softly at my toes. I gazed out into the oblivion of blue hue that lay before me. I stared hopefully at sun-filled sky, but I couldn’t help but wonder how I was going to get through the day. Honestly, I never thought in a million years that my daughter and I would be homeless. Oh, how I yearned for our house in the suburbs. A pain wrenched at my heart when I was once reminded again of my beloved husband, Peter. I missed him so much and couldn’t help but ask God why he was taken from us. Living underneath Pier 14 was no life for Emily and me. I had to get us out of here and back on our feet. My stomach moaned angrily. I needed to somehow find food for us, but how? Suddenly, something slimy brushed up against my leg and pierced my thoughts. I jumped back and brushed the residue of sand of my legs. What was that? As my eyes skimmed the water in front of me, I noticed something spinning in the foam of the waves. Curiosity got the best of me and I went over to take a closer look. The object danced in the waves and eventually was coughed out onto the beach. “Emily!” I called to my eight-year-old daughter who was, at that time, infatuated with a seashell that she found earlier that day. “Come here and see this! Mommy found something.” Although I had no idea what that something was and I definitely didn’t know it would change my life forever.