The Scar of the Storm: “a man with no imagination has no wings” “Where’d you get that scar Johnny?” Asked Mrs Applesmith. The sickly sweet quality to her voice made Johnny’s stomach turn. Twenty-five pairs of eyes swivelled on his back, watching him, like a lion watching its prey. It had been the question on everyone’s lips since he had arrived at Allan Park Prepatory School this morning. Where had his ugly scar come from? His classmate’s eyes caught Johnny’s nervous fidget as he began tracing his swollen lips and attempted to hide the deep crimson scar that lay bare his cowardice. Johnny pulled his tattered Yankees baseball cap further down his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. His scar was his own personal nightmare that he wouldn’t …show more content…
The salty stench of the sea saturated the old rickety ship. “Land Ho!” I bellowed but my voice was lost in the violent wind, howling as it tore past across the empty ocean. The storm swell rocked the boat back and forth and back and forth, knocking me off balance. My pulse quickened as I belted towards the sail, pulling and tugging until the ship was lurched reluctantly forward by the whistling wind. My exhausted smile sagged on my face as the small boat bobbed over the rough waters. The winter wind blistered my face as it whistled past, billowing my royal red cape behind me and chaffing my exposed cheeks. It carried the cries and whispers of the sea storm as it tore across the lonely landscape. * * “Hey Johnny boy.” Ryan’s harsh whisper shot shivers through Johnny’s spine, “Daddy been beating you again?” Johnny’s swallow reverberated loudly around the silent room. He looked frantically around, trying to calm himself. Ryan kicked Johnny’s chair, jarring his jaw and drawing blood. The metallic taste of blood reminded Johnny of the throbbing pain emitting from his scar which sliced his pale lips in two. Johnny gingerly fingered the pulsing red mess of his lips, wishing he along with the scar could just …show more content…
The thought of the relentless questions and harassment he’d get without the teacher’s hawk-like gaze filled Johnny with a sickening dread. A cold sweat pooled on his forehead as he stepped outside the classroom and into the lion’s den. Ryan’s chubby red face leered as he sauntered over. His green eyes flashed with malice. * * The dark green monster wrenched me through the turbulent waters, enjoying my wails and cries of pain. Its sadistic smile deepened as its tail sliced at my face, turning the water a sickly crimson. * * Ryan shoved Johnny into the moulding brick wall behind him, enjoying the fear flashing in his eyes. “You can’t hide your little secret from me,” taunted Ryan malevolently, a snarl twisting his pudgy face. Johnny pushed himself further into the wall, wishing himself to disappear. “Ugly, ugly, you’re so ugly. Who will love you now, little Johnny? No one could, no one ever will. You’re just belt boy for life.” Ryan’s taunts echoed Johnny’s head, enraging a deep temper inside
“Have you no sense child,” Papa yelled as he smacked John in the head, “all are dying, we need to leave at once to save ...
After feeling ostracised by the township, the alienated Brennan family are driven to leave the town of Mumbilli at 4:30am. With hardly any peer support, Tom begins to lose his sense of security, resulting in his transformation into an unconfident teen who is afraid of public opinion. It is no wonder that Tom is unable to move on in his new town as he is being held back in fear of revealing his past. Burke tactfully illustrates Tom’s emotional kaleidoscope through phrases such as “I felt the knot snap” and “my guts landing at my feet” (Burke, pg 172) when reflecting on the accident. On the contrary, with encouragement from family members, Tom begins to step out of his comfort zone and face the future that is to come.
As the ship plowed the sea for eight days, the chugging rhythm of its engines reverberated in Ted’s head: Da-da-DA-da-da-DUM-DUM, da-DA-da-da-DUM (Morgan, 80). Even after the Kungsholm had been docked for days, this rhythm was still stuck in his head. Taking Helen’s suggestion, he set out to develop a story around the rhythm, using the shipboard notes that began with “a stupid horse and a wagon (Morgan, 81).
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.
The officer, surrounded by these noises, was moved and a little embarrassed. He turned away to give them time to pull themselves together; and waited, allowing his eyes to rest on the trim cruiser in the distance (Golding, William). “Alright lads, I think it’s about time we get you off this burning island, don’t you think?” said the Naval Officer as he noticed some of his crew running towards him. The crew had a look of bewilderment as they saw the boys wiping the tears from their faces, they have looked upon a group of boys that had forgotten society, and this astonished some of the crew members. “Is our nightmare finally over?” thought Ralph to himself. He soon realized the answer to his own question and began to cry uncontrollably.
“I used to talk about killing myself…” “ I don’t want to die now.” These are some of Johnny’s last few words when he was in the hospital on page 121. This shows how bad Johnny felt when he was back home where his parents mistreated him. Johnny never wanted to have to deal with them again, so he was going to take the easy way out. However, the gang was the reason Johnny didn’t kill himself; they made him feel cared for. When Johnny was in the hospital, he knew how bad his condition was because he had a broken back and couldn’t feel anything from the waist down. But once he realized there was a large chance he was going to die, he saw how much he reall...
“Then Jack found the throat and the hot blood spouted over his hands…then Jack grabbed Maurice and rubbed the stuff over his cheeks.”
The story possesses amazingly vivid description. This attention to detail affords the reader the greatest degree of reading pleasure. Crane paints such glorious images in reader's mind with his eloquence. "The morning appeared finally, in its splendor, with a sky of pure blue, and the sunlight flamed on the tips of waves"(387). Artistic sentences of such caliber are not often found. The reader is left with a terrific vision of the perilous sea maintaining its beauty amongst the violence of the wind. "Their back- bones had become thoroughly used to balancing in the boat and they now rode this wild colt of a dinghy like circus men"(378). Here, again, Crane uses splendid detail to capture the essence of the chaotic situation.
A sudden dark cloud crashes over him rendering him motionless, lost and destitute. The black dog that haunted him for so long was now not running but flying at him, suddenly engulfed completely by despair. Thinking of his wife and children, tears come to his eyes. Wiping the dusty sleeve across his face, cursing himself for crumpling under the darkness. Failure was never supposed to be a part of him and his future.
It was the third day of the winter holidays when Anmol called us up to the jetty, it wasn’t normal to be out on the water at this time of year. The screeching winds tore over the horizon and collided with the small yachts tied in an uneven pattern all around us. The constant noise of clattering was annoying but quite memorising and the salt was already starting to
McVey also remarks that the line “as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar” equates “scars with a language, wounds
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.
Here the reader is also discussing the crime of the Mariner simultaneously. The first voice asks what makes the ship move and the second voice speaks of harmony between the ocean and the moon. When the first voice asks a question, the second voice answers that the air is “cut away” in front of the ship and it closes behind it. (18171.428).
My heartbeat quickened as Adams brutal little fists swung at him, he fought back but his resilience was pointless as he was surrounded. I cowered behind the school fence, as they swung at him from all angles each time hitting harder and harder. Their fists fuelled by anger, struck at him without hesitation, they showed him no mercy. “Please, sto…..n.. mor.” The roaring wind impaired my hearing. His sharp eyes met mine and he gave me a look of desperation, like the look of a deer just before its consumed by a pack of wolves. It was getting harder to see as the blizzard had gotten stronger and dark clouds filled the sky. My chest tightened as I heard a loud noise, like the sound of smashing ice, I got a really terrible feeling in my gut. I rushed towards the scene, and witnessed his skull smashed, thick blood gushed out from his head staining the pure white snow. Adam started into my eyes, his stare was so fierce that my hands began to tremble. Brock came over and put his hands on my shoulder “Don’t worry he won’t rat on us, he can be trusted”. Adam looked at the mess he made and then...