If Anything At All “Such a penetrative stare could not belong to a mere mortal. Some of us live very long lives and we are still subject to surprises up until the very hour of our demise. Those eyes however, they had been hardened by things of another world.” The sound of overwhelming silence came pouring out of the audience. His words had moved them with astounding effect; however, if anything was hardened by things of another world, it would have been the expression on the face of the Chief Officer Edward Norris of the district police as he gave those final words. Sleep had not seen his eyes since we left the hospital, and that was three days ago. Still, he delivered our speech without hindrance. Never has a monotone produced such an uncanny dance with our various distractors. The coffee stains, the unkempt whiskers, the usual talking points for those of more opulent taste were as obvious as the absent thought. The speech had ended the way it began, in silence, the crowd awaiting the signal from the chief. “That is all we have at this point,” The chief said as his head finally turned away and he began to move from the podium. His final words “Thank you”. The crowd erupted. Everyone had a question for someone. Hands, voices and cameras filled the air as I watched from my shadow of a seat in the back. The old ceiling fans of the church hall only appeared every once in a while from behind the chaos. They seemed only to remind me of a persistent inconsistency in a world of the opposite kind. It was time for me to leave. I made my way from the familiar plastic chairs of the local church hall, to the brand new oak doors which I heard had only been installed a week prior to this impromptu meeting. She too carried her scars and misera... ... middle of paper ... ...ircase’. The second storey was in need of a lot more work. The walls were blank, the floors were bare and atmosphere was a dry one. Before entering the bedroom the Constable and I looked at each other, and then we both looked at Miss Sheffield. “Open the door,” she asserted. The door was slowly creaked open and the devil was left to play with the mind. “Oh my God,” she gasped, “was that written with…” “Blood? Yes,” I believed in an imagination which had similar properties to that of most plastic. You could stretch and distort the mind as you forced new ideas into the mind, but there is no way to reset the mind. With each increasingly shocking image, the threshold was only going to be offset by some degree of personal displeasure. The only true danger resided in not having the ability to stretch and meet the requirements of what was standing before our very eyes.
Diane Urban, for instance, was one of the many people who were trapped inside this horror. She “was comforting a woman propped against a wall, her legs virtually amputated” (96). Flynn and Dwyer appeal to the reader’s ethical conscience and emotions by providing a story of a victim who went through many tragedies. Causing readers to feel empathy for the victims. In addition, you began to put yourself in their shoes and wonder what you would do.
“The look in his eyes, as they stared into mine, has never left me.” p. 109
I stared into his face, feeling a sense of outrage. His left eye had collapsed, a line of raw redness showing where the lid refused to close, and his gaze had lost its command. I looked from his face to the glass, thinking he's disem...
My eyes follow the jet black hands on my watch that creep more and more nigh five past six. As the big hands of the clock pass the minutes go by that guarantee relief from agony. The more that time expires, the flowers begin to wither like the hope in my heart that Hester with arriving at the cathedral due to the notice is given by the letter. The wind howls and slams into the cathedral doors giving me false hope that the women of my dreams will be walking through the door. Bending at the waist, and praying to god Hester will come to greet me I feel a breeze hit the back of my neck and reawaken from my concentration in God. As I rise from the pew, I see small women walk through the doors with a black clock and a candle whose burning wax drips down the sides, casting light that guides the way to me. Thine figure in the black cloak hands me a letter and runs away without my response.
Chief Mangan is now beginning to work and transmit his mission throughout all levels of the police department and to gain the support and trust from the members. These members included natural leaders, all sworn rank officers,and civilian titles or leaders, these individuals all met several evenings on a weekly basis in an informal advisory group to discuss the organization’s weakness and strengths, and to make recommendations for any
On Monday March 25, some members of the baseball team, my girlfriend, and I traveled to Murray State University to watch a concert performed by Nelly and the St. Lunatics. It was a terrible night to go anywhere because it was raining and storming the whole way, but there was nothing that was going to stop us from going to the concert. We where all so hyped up about it and couldn’t wait to head out. My brother, who attends Murray State, had gotten us excellent seats about seventy-five feet away from the stage.
Venturing inside, we all noticed two things very quickly: we were at once wearing entirely too much clothing to be comfortable in the sweltering heat, and entirely too little to fit in with the rest of the congregants assembled. And yet we were welcomed with open arms. We had arrived, the Reverend Rogers L. Pruitt emphasized as we filed into the sanctuary, on a very special day. As he distributed bulletins and hearty handshakes to the rest of the group, I noticed that the front of mine read "Fragment Day." As I looked around the modest sanctuary, I wondered what the service had in store for us.
We entered the building into a room where approximately 15 people were sitting in chairs. Most were staring straight ahead, eyes glazed. Some were chattering quietly to themselves, some were walking around with an awkward gait. As I walked further through the floor looking into rooms, I saw many people sleeping in their beds.
Imagine my trepidation, then, when I walked into this church, with its high, vaulted ceilings and an enormous, emaciated, and slightly malicious-looking Christ figure suspended thirty feet among my head. As I came through the entrance, the prelude began. It sounded like nothing less than the soundtrack to a horror movie, as the slasher is about to leap out and dice an innocent schoolgirl. The organ wailed in threatening, building minor chords and did nothing to allay my trepidation.
The somber and effusive tone of the selected passage from Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston, is shown through its general diction and imagery. Hurston uses skillfully chosen words to enhance the imagery, and both devices contribute to the tone of this scene.
“A stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I was obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me,
I peered around through the rain, desperately searching for some shelter, I was drowning out here. The trouble was, I wasn’t in the best part of town, and in fact it was more than a little dodgy. I know this is my home turf but even I had to be careful. At least I seemed to be the only one out here on such an awful night. The rain was so powerfully loud I couldn’t hear should anyone try and creep up on me. I also couldn’t see very far with the rain so heavy and of course there were no street lights, they’d been broken long ago. The one place I knew I could safely enter was the church, so I dashed.
Ms. Phillips met us in the waiting area and walked us through the very spacious building to the elevator, taking us to her office on the third floor. She explained to us that the building was once a hospital (W. Phillips, personal communication, October 4th, 2013). This explained the wide doorways, spacious halls, drab atmosphere, and considerable amount of walking it takes to get from one place to the next. Ms. Phillips’ office had very welcoming in décor. Pictures of her child and what seemed to be his artwork, and the work of other children, decorated almost every available wall space. Because the room was once a hospital room, the layout was very strange for an office. Visitors have to sit perpendicular to Ms. Phillips’ desk. Because Ms. Phillips provides in home services, I do not believe this would aff...
Standing in line at 9:13am the first person there all alone. But I did not feel alone. The glow of the pool illuminated by the first rays of sunshine reflecting off of it. As I stood at the main entrance, outside of this enormous building waiting for the 120 seconds that had to pass before I entered this structure immersed in my people’s history.
As the crowd built up, it moved towards the doors that led into the actual theatre. I could see that some type of fog machine was at work. A pale mist came out of the cracks of the door. The inconspicuous sound of music could be heard just over the chatter of the crowd of people. Behind those doors there was a thrilling adventure about to ta...