Geez! This is very weird! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Charles Atkinson, and I have had one very weird day! It all started when I was, as usual seeing where I work at; making a tombstone a sample tombstone I could show to interested customers. I wasn’t planning to choose a real name to engrave onto the tombstone; I was planning to engrave a name like ‘Scott McCall’ but I didn’t. I started to daydream while I was chiseling a name on a marble; it was a boring, hot day. When I woke up from my daydream, I looked down and saw a name I had never heard of or seen before. I don’t know how long I was daydreaming but I guess it was about 5 hours a very long time.
I was just starting to put today’s date August 20, 1900 on the tombstone when a man entered my garden. He was a very skinny man, but very tall maybe about six feet and three inches. As the man came closer, he seemed to be shocked as he looked at me. I asked him “why are you staring at me, and what his name was.
All he said was, "Come over here, and look at this paper!"
I looked at the paper and almost fainted, literally. I asked him how he had got a picture of me. He said he had had no idea that he was drawing a real person.
After he said that, I asked him what his name was. He replied, "James Clarence Withencroft, Sir."
That name sounded familiar to a name that I’ve heard before. I tried to remember where I had seen or heard it before. I was still pondering when I looked over at the headstone on which I was working on and saw the name I had chiseled into the marble. I ran over to the stone and read the name slowly again. I was sure it was that one guy’s name, so I told him to come over to the tombstone and see if it was engraved there.
He yelled, "Yes!"
Then he got a terrifi...
... middle of paper ...
... scared I didn’t notice that the chisel had flown from my hand. I looked around but did not see the chisel anywhere. I looked about me one more time, and there—in the throat of James—was the chisel. I checked to see if James was still breathing. He wasn’t.
I summoned our sheriff, who came to take the body away.
"How in the world did he accidentally get stabbed in the throat?" the sheriff questioned.
I told him the whole story, but he didn’t believe me.
"Well, Sir, you’re going to be held responsible for this, you know," he said.
I was put in jail, and eventually I went on trial for murder. I was asked a lot of questions, and I answered them successfully. In the end, I was declared "not guilty." The one question that I still could not answer was, "Why did James die?" I knew I had erased everything. Oh, no! I hadn’t! The date was still on there: August 20, 1900. . . .
On March 4th, 1921, Congress approved the commissioning of a tomb of an unknown soldier of World War 1, this soldier will be buried in the new Memorial Amphitheater (“The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier”). On Memorial day 1921, U.S. Army Sgt. Edward F. Younger, was selected to select from four caskets for the Tomb of the Unknown(“The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier”). He
Here I write in the closing days of my life. My life has been full of many wonderful experiences, and I thank God for that. However, the events of almost ten years ago are a black mark on my legacy, an event that will forever haunt my spirit, while it walks the Earth within my body and when I have ascended to heaven to be with the Lord. The unjust hangings of many of God 's people, including the honourable John Proctor and Rebecca Nurse, was a regrettable moment in my life and all of New England.
Cemeteries represent numerous lives and memories commemorating their deaths in scenes of cultural and social
The boy responded kindly, “I am Kent Palace and I am sixteen years old. I hail from the land of Palaces in Topeka, Kansas. I have been sent this way to find the blacksmith named Xavier Bon who provides people with anything a blacksmith can make.”
Without the assistance of generous community members, the cemetery would not have been possible. “Pap” Taylor, a longtime citizen, gave the first acre of land, which inspired another outstanding citizen, namely “Uncle Bob” Wilson, to donate a second acre of land for burial p...
The ninteeth century was a turining point for mourning, grief, and funerals. During this time, the care and ceremonies for the deceased loved one were held at the home. The body was washed and prepared for the ceremony by the family and a family member usually built the coffin. Friends and family went to the home to view the body and pay their respects. After the body had viewed, it was carried to the church or cemetary for the commital. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, the undertaker’s role had grown. He was no longer just the man who furnis...
The cemetery my grandfather is buried at Gate of Heaven Cemetery, one of the largest cemeteries in the New York City area. It’s filled with people of all backgrounds and nationalities that came to the city and surrounding area. It has become home to many people as it was created in 1917 and it’s still active to this day, showing exactly one hundred years of progression. The location of the cemetery’s first plots is important to begin with, because New York City is an urban and central hub for lots of the world, the cemetery being outside the city in Westchester County is done on purpose. A cemetery can be a somewhat depressing sight, so it’s placed away from everyone and where they will only see it if they travel out to. It creates a separation between “us and them” (233). Because of the large number of residents from New York City are buried there, the cemetery’s origins start the progressive story of how it grew. The beginning of the cemetery tells a great deal about who was living there at the time. The original tombstones had all of the last names seemed to be
Parkman was properly interred in the family lot in Live Oak Cemetery, they kept insisting, “Mr.
A 19-year old female from Harford County, Maryland, narrated the story of Black Aggie, the urban legend of an overnight stay in a cemetery. She grew up Christian, and still lives in one of the more rural areas of Maryland with her younger sister and parents, who own and work at an electrical contracting business. Accustomed to hearing many ghost stories and urban legends, she first heard the story of Black Aggie during a middle school slumber party. Late one Saturday night over pizza in our Hagerstown dorm, she was more than willing to share her favorite urban legend with me.
“Your Name.” Home | The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Web. 22 Feb. 2011.
The story of Summer, by David Updike, is set during that idyllic time in life when responsibility is the last word on anyone's mind. And yet, as with all human affairs, responsibility is an ever-present and ever-necessary aspect to life. What happens when the protagonist, Homer, loses his awareness of a certain personal responsibility to maintain self-control? Homer's actions increasingly make him act foolishly, internally and externally. Also, how does Homer return to a sense of sanity and responsibility? To a degree, I would say that he does.
“ Here Rests in Honored Glory an American Soldier Known but to God.” The Solemn phrase engraved into what became the tomb of the Unknown Solider offers a sense of dignity and tranquil feeling to those who visits the magnificent marble sarcophagus. The body of an unknown soldier was entombed on November 11, 1921, as a tribute paid by the Americans to those soldiers who perished during World War I. A military honor guard was established at the tomb. The honor guard is made up of select members of the Third U.S. Army Infantry Regiment, known as the Old Guard. Guarded day and night, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier became a national memorial that will forever symbolize the peace, victory, and valor of those American soldiers died fighting for the freedom of this country.
Suspense; Suspense is the intense feeling that an audience goes through while waiting for the outcome of certain events. It basically leaves the reader holding their breath and wanting more information. The amount of intensity in a suspenseful moment is why it is hard to put a book down. Without suspense, a reader would lose interest quickly in any story because there is nothing that is making the reader ask, “What’s going to happen next?” In writing, there has to be a series of events that leads to a climax that captivates the audience and makes them tense and anxious to know what is going to happen. And Suspense, is what “August heat” primarily uses to keep its story so invigorating.
He brushes a hand across the tombstone, his fingertips tingling upon the engraved lettering. The name. The epitaph, banal and meaningless. The dates of birth and death--dates too close together for comfort, dates that stir murmurs in passersby. How tragic. Poor boy, to die so young. Those who had cared to know him never said so, only the strangers.