Lanky Orson Binks didn’t realize the Sear was coming not from the sun overhead, beating down on him while he lay on the clover covered mound, but from the crawling red ants. He was tied down by this curse. The curse of his inability to move while in the state he was in. Cursed to feel the skin baking sensation while red ants were biting him. There was a moment when it would stop briefly and he would feel as though it was totally worth it; even after the ants began to go into his nostrils and ears, and started to inject him with the venom, which would allow him to see a miracle birth. He floated up off the mound on a blanket of four-leaf clovers. The sky was his mirror into the future and this miracle birth was going to be one of the biggest ever known–two unicorns on two different parts of the world, at two different spans of time.
There were a number of problems linked to such a gift: the red ants sting, as one of the least pleasant, Orson Binks was not old enough to drive, still living with his over-protective mother was another problem. O’Binks, as mom, Rita, referred to her youngest of four, was on the verge of turning fourteen and no one ever believed his tales, which escalated in grandeur as each one progressed, even more-so than his older brothers stories. His big brothers called him by another name they kept from their mother–the name O’Jerk. Without much choice, Orson kept quiet or suffer the wrath of the brothers Grimm, his name for them, after the famous fairytale storytellers. Orson surmised that if those two were never believed their stories would breach a vast point of time, then his own brothers shouldered just as big a challenge, thus reminding him of the Grimm brothers. No one would believe their young brother ’s ...
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...ellow and gold butterflies came in droves. They all danced to a halt at the point of Orson’s rise and would sip the dead red ants nectar. It was odd; ants were not a part of their diet.
“Unicorn, Unicorn,” Terry answered his mother.
“Anything else?” Rita pressed, wiping her hands on her jeans.
“Yes,” Terry paused before Kirk picked up a handful of butterflies.
“We’re not supposed to know,” Kirk added. He disliked the attention his little brother always received and showed it. The butterflies he held took off into the bright blue sky. The last traces of the sun hit the tree where the gold butterflies landed.
The tree was just outside Orson’s bedroom window. He slept alone. His brothers couldn’t get any rest at night from the constant display of projected images onto the ceiling while Orson slept.
“How long do we have before we forget this one?” Terry asked his mother.
The majority of people waste food on a daily basis. In fact, in the U.S. alone there is an estimate that over half of the food produced goes uneaten; meanwhile there are people who are in need of food, and it ultimately goes to waste (Dockterman). For example, in his essay, “On Dumpster Diving,” author Lars Eighner writes about his experiences of dumpster diving with his pet dog, during his years of homelessness. According to Eighner, much of the food and materials he came across in the dumpsters were in usable shape, and many items were new. Clearly there needs to be a change in American food waste, in current and, hopefully not so much in, future generations. In order to bring about change in this misuse of food, Americans need to be conscious
Filban said the home had a yard that was overgrown. “The trees and bushes were overgrown, and the house was dark,” Filban said. “And the windows were covered.” She and her sister slept in the front bedroom of the house. She remembers the bedroom having a large, floor-to-ceiling window. She said you could look out and see the wra...
“I probably would not have noticed it at all had not a butterfly, a yellow butterfly with dark spots like ink dots on its wings, not lit there. What had brought it there? …I watched it fly over the ditch and down into the quarter, I watched it until I could not see it anymore. Yes, I told myself. It is finally over.”
"On Dumpster Diving", is a rather odd but interesting piece of writing by Lars Eighner. He is a great writer and craftsman of the senates. Eighner's, "On Dumpster Diving", is considered the best chapter of the book, "Travels with Lizbeth." Eighner describes in his owns words, and tells us about his experiences with dumpster diving and even informs us about wasteful habits of the American population. Eighner conveys, "Students throw out canned goods and staples at the end of the semesters and when they give up college at midterm."(par.23). When he became homeless, he had no other choice but to make a living out of dumpster diving. Through his experiences, he uses ethical, logical and humorous approach to inform his readers about dumpster diving.
Analysis: This setting shows in detail a location which is directly tied to the author. He remembers the tree in such detail because this was the place were the main conflict in his life took place.
With only the moon and stars to guide her, she picked her way down to the trucks, where a few embers of the fire remained. She could hear something that sounded like wind On the ground were unidentifiable lumps that seemed to be moving in the nonexistent breeze. On the front of one of the looming vehicles was a blood stain. Emmaline crept toward it. On her way there she accidentally stepped on one of the lumps and heard a man-like squawk. She looked down and saw two eyes glistening in the moonlight and an open mouth still. She slowly turned around in a circle. The lumps that Emmaline had assumed to be tree stumps earlier were now rising from the ground and shouting. Fear was welling up inside Emmaline but she told herself to stay brave for Edgar’s sake and she let out a deafening battle cry and charged at the nearest man. He ran towards the blood-stained truck and jumped up into the cab, Emmaline close behind. The soldier shut the door in Emmaline’s face and she turned around. The other men were all packing up as fast as they could. Emmaline stayed until every truck had left, watching silently with an evil glare. Then she raced back up the hill to join her Father and
We are in the drawing room with the Great Detective Cedric Hart. Everyone is assembled. All the family, the household staff, the weekend guests, anyone who has been near this place since we found the body of poor old Aunt Charlotte last Friday evening. It is time, it seems, for the grand finale. This is the moment where he lines everyone up and unravels the mystery for us. This is the part where he explains exactly what has been going on, displays at great length every facet of his genius before eventually, finally pointing a finger at the murderer.
“On Dumpster Diving” by Lars Eighner and “Two Ways to Belong in America” by Bharati Mukheriee are both extremely thought-provoking texts that chronicle society’s treatment of marginalized people in the United States. Although, the speakers are of different ethnicities, nationalities and come from very different backgrounds they both share the common perspective of feeling left behind by society and excluded socioeconomically. On Dumpster Diving explores the financial hardships of living in America and the treatment of the lower class, mass consumption and waste. It highlights the theme of reckless gluttony that is prevalent in American society. Whereas, Two Ways to Belong explores the treatment of immigrants a cultural upheaval, mass division
The weeks went by, but Zion saw no progress in her swimming abilities. Every muscle on her body hurt! She was beginning to wonder if swimming was the right sport for her.
Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein takes the themes portrayed in the book and directly criticizes the Western Culture. As Heinlein said, "My purpose in this book was to examine every major axiom of western culture, to question each axiom, throw doubt on it" (Jelliffe 161). These axioms are where feels the Western Culture fails and so he uses the themes to criticize humans of the Western Culture by pointing out these faults. The themes of the story portray this by having Valentine Michael Smith, a human raised by Martians, come to earth to teach his knowledge which contradict what the Western Culture feels to be true. "Stranger is a strong-minded work of culture criticism, no doubt about it (Stover 58)." The themes that Heinlein uses are those of religion, sex, and love to make his point of where the Western Culture fails as a whole. Heinlein's writing of his novels after 1961 when he wrote Stranger in a Strange Land, has changed the genre of science-fiction, because he not only wrote about strange worlds and crazy adventures, but Heinlein also tried to include criticism and a message to the reader in his novels to explain problems that he felt humans have. This became Heinlein's writing style after 1957 when he reached the age of 50 and was on the top of science-fiction. Because science-fiction was considered to be for kids, Heinlein began to write more for adult audiences by adding the real problems and criticism into his novel (Drucolli 210). "The publication of Stranger in a Strange Land marked drastic shift in Heinlein's writing, at least in social criticism and controversial subject matter" (Drucolli 227). "As he had done immediately before World War II, Heinlein helped to ...
Now it would have been easy to find a tree that could get him high enough if it wasn’t pitch black outside. Ajit’s dad had taught him that to measure how tall a tree is you can use the trunk of the tree. If the trunk of the tree is wider than half the spear handle, than the tree is over 100 spear handles tall. Ajit went tree to tree trying to find the perfect one when he heard something moving in the bushes close to him. Nothing is visible, Ajit could only see the outline of figures, because of the pitch blackness of the night, with very little
...omes back after many years of being on his own whenever he needs something or some confidence. The tree doesn’t just give herself to anyone, but only to this boy. Silverstein does a great job at letting readers understand how community comes into play in a culture. Even though, humans don’t live in a culture where they have special bonds with trees and inanimate objects, there is much more than the tree just being a tree. The tree is THIS BOY’S tree.
We slowly crept around the corner, finally sneaking a peek at our cabin. As I hopped out of the front seat of the truck, a sharp sense of loneliness came over me. I looked around and saw nothing but the leaves on the trees glittering from the constant blowing wind. Catching myself standing staring around me at all the beautiful trees, I noticed that the trees have not changed at all, but still stand tall and as close as usual. I realized that the trees surrounding the cabin are similar to the being of my family: the feelings of never being parted when were all together staying at our cabin.
...e roots of the old tree, the star’s light was intercepted by green shoots and small, crinkled leaves— last season’s seeds. Tiny children of the mother tree, they were doomed to live out their lives under her suffocating blanket of branches. Now as they gazed upward, innumerable points of light gazed back. A light wind rustled the miniature stalks of the saplings, blowing the new debris around in short-lived eddies that danced softly through the night.
The dark, black sky was covered with a million bright shining stars. The moon shimmered above a small town in the suburbs of London. The gentle wind swept past the bare trees and danced with the leaves below it, creating a colourful array of orange, yellow, red and brown. Across the street, a light was on in a small house where a tall, dark haired woman stood, talking to her two children Nicola and Erin. While she was tucking them in Erin asked, “Mummy, will you tell us a story please?” “I’m sorry but its time to go to sleep now,” she said. “Please mummy,” begged Nicola “Okay but only one story,” she replied “This story is about how I got lost when I was a young girl and how I met an incredible man. It all began when…”