I, Eliza Wishart am here today to respond to everyone’s confusion over my own house being alit on fire. Up until now I have felt no need at all to confirm or deny any of the accusations or rumours made. However, I am here today to clear my conscious and help the town of Corrigan understand what happened behind the scenes at the disastrous time my sister, Laura Wishart, was found dead and why my house was set a flame. It has been over 4 years since my sister, Laura Wishart was found dead in the forest, and everyone has been confused and concerned as to what happened that night. I have decided now is a suitable time to inform you all that my sister Laura Wishart committed suicide.(PAUSE LOOK UP) I have decided it is in fact time I informed …show more content…
I remember the cold wind brushing against my skin, the rustling of leaves and the light footsteps of Laura in the damp grass. I felt like something was pinning me down and there was a force stopping me from talking, I tried so hard to yell and try to stop her but nothing came out. I felt the sadness and anger all over me, I felt like i was to blame for this and this was all my …show more content…
The only feeling I had left was pure hatred. There is also no doubt if my mother wasn't so concerned about our appearance to the public eye Laura's death could've been stopped. Before Laura took her life she went to our mother and told her about how our father goes into her room at night and sexually abuses her, our mother didn't believe her and didn't want to, she cared too much about how the public saw and thought about our family. I also took a copy of Laura's suicide note and gave it to my mother, I told her I knew where Laura's body was and I would tell her where it is if she told everyone the truth, but of course that didn't
By the time I got home, my brother had already arrived and was enthusiastically recounting the day’s events to my mom, who had obviously been crying. When he finally stopped carrying on, my mom told me to sit down and then she told me. I will never forget her exact words or even the way she said them. “Megan committed suicide today.” I stared blankly at her, I knew she had to be lying, she had to be wrong, Megan would never do that. We had been too good of friends for too long, I knew her too well. Megan was always happy, she always had a joke to tell. She had such a bright future, she was an excellent athlete and it seemed as though she succeeded in everything she tried.
sensitive to the elements. Mayella looked as if she tried to keep clean, and I was
Recently, my client Tituba has been accused of performing the demonic act of witchcraft, more specifically- singing and dancing in her traditional Barbados ways. The accuser? Why, none other than Abigail Williams herself.
Laura feels she will never find someone that will take care of her. This is very upsetting because it is obvious that it is very important to everyone in the family.
I’m Freda Josephine Baker born to Carrie McDonald and Eddie Carson on June 3rd, 1906, in St. Louis, Missouri, but most of you may know me as Josephine Baker. At the age of 12 I dropped out of school to become an entertainer, yes yes, I remember it like it was yesterday, I was young and ready to become a star. I grew up cleaning houses and babysitting for white families, and they always reminded me “be sure not to kiss the baby”. When I was 13, I got a waitressing job at the Chauffeur’s Club, which was where I met my first husband, our marriage was very brief; I had never hesitated to leave anyone, never depended on any man for anything, that’s for sure.
I sit here waiting, waiting for the day for the I can be free. Free from work, free from these awful people, free from everything. I wish I could just settle down at my own place where I can grow my own food, farm my own land, be my own boss. I already dont have to worry about Lennie getting in any trouble. I guess I'm halfway there. It could just be me on my own, on a little farm, with some chickens, maybe some pigs or a cow. I can grow my own food. I know how to cook, I’m not too bad. I can teach myself some things. I can even go into town every saturday and trade in some of my things. While I'm there I can visit Lennie's grave, maybe bring him some pretty flowers. Oh I'm sure he would like that. I really do miss that sun of a gun.
I received the call that my brother had overdosed when I was going to a haunted house with a couple of my friends. My mother had not known the severity and told me not to worry. Steven had overdosed in the past so I was not as concerned as I should have been. My friends and I kept on with our festivities and then they dropped me off at my house. There was no one home and I became distressed. When I called my mother she told me to just go to bed and that they would be home soon. I forced myself to sleep. I was in a daze when my mother and father came into my room to tell me that my brother was dead. I don’t know what happened in my brain, but I could not talk and I could not cry. I believe I brushed it off as an awful nightmare. My unconscious demeanor scared my parents so they kept sending people in my room trying to get through to me. I woke up to my best friend hugging me, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke up to my grandma holding my hand with tears flowing down her eyes, not saying a word, and then she left. I woke to my godmother speaking about grief and how I needed to believe that he was gone, and then she left. How was I supposed to believe that my brother was no longer on this earth? I sat there on my bed alone as the idea of my brother dying crept into my mind. My heart began to literally ache. I cried hysterically for hours on hours. It has been a year since he has passed and it doesn’t get any
Miss Maudie Atkinson’s (43) house was set ablaze on December 15th. The snow had just fallen for the first time since 1885. Maudie set a fire in the kitchen to warm up late Tuesday night when it caught the rest of the house. Around 1:00 am the commotion started and people were outside the burning home. The men of the neighborhood rushed to get Miss Maudie and her belongings out. No one was hurt thankfully, other than Mr. Avery, who was saving items from the upstairs when the stairs burned out and had to climb through the window where he then fell into Miss Maudie’s bushes. The bad news is the house is totally destroyed. There is no disappointment from Miss Maudie though, who is very optimistic and says “I’ve always wanted to build a smaller
Even though Laura and Elizabeth were uncompassionate towards the families, failed to call the deceased by their names, felt shame and had a life and death epiphany, both women had different stances and reasons concerning their actions. The relationship and the personal or social difference that Laura and Elizabeth shared with the dead men were all factors in how they acted, reacted and lastly how these affected the epiphany that the two women experienced throughout and at the end of these stories.
My mind was filled with many questions that could not be answered. Why him and not me? How could I have been so stupid? How will I face his mother? Am I worthy to raise my daughter? While lying at the hospital I was filled with hatred and anger. I was ready to give up, and I didn’t care what happened to me.
When I look over my “ The Loss Of My Sister’ essay I wrote it makes me proud of myself to know I was that strong to write about such a close topic to me and my family. I always wanted to write the story of my sister but I never had an opportunity to. I always kept quite about the situation I went through because I did not want the sorrow and pity from others. When ever I did tell someone that I have a dead sister, they would respond “ I don’t know what to say other than I'm sorry” it makes me feel awkward because I don’t know if I say thank you or it’s okay? Since I wrote about what happened I decided I’d write about how it is now without her.
I can still remember that day. All the beauty of nature collected in one moment. I can still feel the sponginess of the winter-aged leaves under my feet. I felt as though I was walking on a cloud, the softness of the leaves cushioning my every step, they were guiding me along the wooded path to a small creek. The humming of the water moving with the crispness of the air, together they were singing a promise of a fresh and clean new season. It was a beautiful spring that year. Every so often a day like that comes back and I am reminded of posing for our picture together.
She told me that mom needed to tell me something. She proceeded to tell me that my father had had a heart attack and that I had a choice to come down to the hospital or not to come. She told me it was a scary sight, and if I didn?t think I could handle it that I should stay home. I was overwhelmed with fear and grief at that moment that my mind just stopped working. I remember thinking all I wanted was to be with my mom and my dad.
I wandered around the path near the lake because it was always peaceful and quiet there in the morning and the trees that hung over the wide walkway only drew me in more. The cool wind blew continuously, and some of the leaves that barely hung on to the branches were pulled along with it. They floated while dropping slowly, and one of the leaves chose my head as a landing spot. I brushed my hair with my hand, not caring if doing so messes up my hair, since the wind already accomplished that job the second I took a step outside my house.
When I went to bed around 11 o’clock, I was crying, like I usually did, but this time was different. I couldn’t fall asleep and my cries got heavier. I began hyperventilating, which soon woke my little sister, who was sleeping in the bed above mine. She called out to see if I was ok, but I was unable to respond. She ran down the hall to my parents room and told them that something was wrong with me. My parents ran to my bedroom, which awakened my whole family. My mom was yelling at me to respond, but I couldn’t. I was paralyzed. There I was sitting in a ball on my bed, hyperventilating uncontrollably, with my family standing in a circle around me. They had no idea what was going on, and there was no way for me to tell them. My mom crawled into bed with me and the two of us just laid there. She was silent, just listening to my deep, powerful sobs. It took a long time for me to calm down. It had been 5 hours since I first went to bed. Around 4 o’clock was the time I was able to sit up and answer my mom’s questions with one word answers. we talked the rest of the morning, and I told her all about what had been happening for the past 7 months, except I left out the part about being suicidal. I couldn’t bear to tell my mom how bad I was, and that I never told her before.