I stared hungrily into my future uncomprehending why the dreams were so vivid and real, so colorful; and of major concern, why I could actually smell and taste the blood, which caused my parched and dry throat to constrict with a painful thirst. In the middle of the unbearable thirst, was a powerful voice in my head, a dim illumination, as if connected by cameras, which provided no image?
I awoke from the dream; drenched in sweat and my were hands shaking.
I knew it was time to leave and make my way home.
I continued to lie there on the floor reluctant to move.
Remembering the myths and legends of the undead; never dreaming they were true. How many myths were truly based in reality?
I needed answers to questions which I had given no thought to before. More important, why had LeBeck not completed my transformation. Why had he left me near death, but not close enough to life to be human? Why had he taken just enough of my life's blood to sustain himself, leaving his poisonous venom to change me forever?
I frantically sought to understand the changes that my body had undergone; and to understand the unbearable thirst.
I was vaguely aware of the strength and speed, but very unaware that I would never age again. I was frozen in time, and would stay twenty-five forever. Not all changes, I had unnaturally undergone were readily revealed to me, and would remain a mystery, yielding their effects in the very near future and drastically changing my life.
I knew I had to find Randall LeBeck, and find his connection to my present situation. I needed answers, and I knew that only he could offer them.
Noticing the Priest questionably glancing in my direction and seeing him make every effort not to stare; and with major con...
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...hinking about her. I had not experienced such intense feelings for any woman, since Cynthia. Knowing it was actually much too soon to think that I could be in love with her; more important I did not even know her name.
Reclining against the seat, I made plans for the coming evening --- contemplating my next move.
I was overconfident sure that I would find the answers. Nevertheless, could I accept what I might find?
I would anxiously search for the infamous Randall LeBeck; and find out his part in the changes, which had taken, over my existence. I positively and inwardly desired to have command over the urge of killing and hurting the innocent. After a while, I began to developed feelings of remorse for the young man whose life I had taken.
Vowing not to kill again, I immediately began to develop a plan that would allow me to exist without harming humans.
Imagery uses five senses such as visual, sound, olfactory, taste and tactile to create a sense of picture in the readers’ mind. In this poem, the speaker uses visual imagination when he wrote, “I took my time in old darkness,” making the reader visualize the past memory of the speaker in “old darkness.” The speaker tries to show the time period he chose to write the poem. The speaker is trying to illustrate one of the imagery tools, which can be used to write a poem and tries to suggest one time period which can be used to write a poem. Imagery becomes important for the reader to imagine the same picture the speaker is trying to convey. Imagery should be speculated too when writing a poem to express the big
I chose this passage because it reminds me of a time when I was sick and I had eaten hardly anything and had gotten very little sleep because I was vomiting all the night through. I was lying in my bed and I looked over at my closet doors, which where sliding mirrors, and I saw myself. I looked like I had died. My face was pale, my eyes were black, and I was unusually skinny.
In Harry Mulisch’s novel The Assault, the author not only informs society of the variance in perception of good and evil, but also provides evidence on how important it is for an innocent person experiencing guilt to come to terms with their personal past. First, Mulisch uses the characters Takes, Coster, and Ploeg to express the differences in perspective on the night of the assault. Then he uses Anton to express how one cannot hide from the past because of their guilt. Both of these lessons are important to Mulisch and worth sharing with his readers.
... poem reflects upon the skeptical poet sitting writing this and moves towards a center ground of realization that while they may be forcing false ideas onto the population that reads their work, they cannot justify either way if the "Dream" that they are creating is reality or just a figment of their imagination which the people are now sucked into believing.
I stepped into the middle of the road and just stood there, the lights stretching in either direction, glowing in the deep chilly air. I could see my own breath, could feel my own warmth as it formed right there in front of me. Behind me, our house looked dark, faint lingering of I'd walk a million miles, and I wasn't even sure if it was really playing or if I was imagining the familiar, the same way a bright light remain when you close your eyelids, the way I imagine that the sight of an eclipse would burn its image into your eyes forever(pg.
In the short story “Killings,” by Andre Dubus, revenge, loss, and consequences are explored. Richard Strout, a man of little to no morality, committed a crime of passion, which I do not think is a justifiable crime, since he murdered a man who was in a relationship with his wife that he is separated from. Strout is an impatient and violent man with no boundaries. This is evident since he did kill Frank in front of his children and his estranged wife.
I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole purpose of infusing life into an inanimate body. For this I deprived myself of rest and health.
that I was in reality the monster that I am, I was filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification”
"A sick man's dreams are often extraordinarily distinct and vivid and extremely life-like. A scene may be composed of the most unnatural and incongruous elements, but the setting and presentation are so plausible, the details so subtle, so unexpected, so artistically in harmony with the whole picture, that the dreamer could not invent them for himself in his waking state. . . "1
Her pale, bloated face wore an expression of imbecile happiness. Every now and then her eyelids closed, and for a few seconds she seemed to be dozing. Then with a little start she would wake up again杦ake up to the aquarium antics of the Tennis Champions, to the Super-Vox-Wurlitzeriana rendering of "Hug me till you drug me, honey," to the warm draught of verbena that came blowing through the ventilator above her head-would wake to these things, or rather to a dream of which these things, transformed and embellished by the soma in her blood, were the marvellous constituents, and smile once more her broken and discoloured smile of infantile contentment.
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.
The plane began to move. We were taking off. With each minute, and each thought, I became more and more anxious. I looked out the window. The ground moved faster and faster, soon the gravel began to look like blurry streaks and suddenly the plane lifted. My mind cleared and I just watched... I looked down upon the tiny little towns, my nose pressed up against the cold, plastic window, and my imagination took over... I began to dream of living in foreign lands. A huge mansion on a vineyard property perhaps. The sunshine pouring through my window every morning. I then pictured myself getting up, putting on a silk robe and walking downstairs. The scent of grape blossoms ...
With both hands resting lightly on the table to each side of his white foam cup, Otis stared into its deep abyss of emptiness with his head bowed as if willing it to fill again, giving him a reason to enjoy the shelter that the indoors provided. I could almost touch the conflict going on inside of him, a battle of wills as if he was negotiating with an imaginary devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I sensed a cramp of discomfort seizing his insides, compelling him to flee, then a silent resolve, as if a moment of clarity had graced his consciousness.
...er-life. And that must have somehow influenced my decisions. Even though the religious part of this came to me only afterwards. At first many others and I thought that this ridiculous trial was an obvious hoax. Who would have thought that such a crime, which I was evidently not guilty of, be punished by the death penalty. I fooled with the court. They on the other hand were quite serious about it. In the last days, I realized that there was no way out. True I could have argued with the court and won. I could have escaped using the plan devised by my dear friends. But since there was a high-ranking leader who wanted me dead, it was going to happen no matter what. Furthermore, my governmental beliefs stand true in all situations; the law should be followed and that is all. There was not much I was willing to do. After some thinking, I decided to go along with the law, after all, I had lived a happy life. One that I was proud of living, no matter how unusual it may appear to others. I was an old man of seventy. I found and understood myself, and had achieved happiness and goodness. There was nothing more that I desired. I knew what was waiting for me after death and was ready for it.
The internal clock inside of us, always running out of time, searching for stable ground. Why can’t I stay young forever? For others it's the opposite, becoming mature excites them. Perhaps the reason why I want to stay in the moment is because it’s clearer than the future. As of right now, I can see what is happening, but I have no idea what the future holds. Have you ever heard the phrase it gets better with time? Perhaps you're trying to move on from a shocking moment in your life. Ageing gives us a path to follow and move on when we can’t do it otherwise. In my own life, I have experienced my fair share of frightening events. For instance, recalling back to the memory of my close relative drowning. At the time I seemed as if life didn’t move forward anymore as if the earth was motionless. I assembled time as motionless, fading the idea of my future. Confused as I looked around, but couldn’t find a way to go. Feeling like all the pathways to my future closed, the experience weakened me. I never felt so lost in my life, like I was existing on this planet alone. Needless to say, eventually the capacity of time pushed me forward, helping me to proceed on. Ageing, without a doubt, can help us move on when we don't have the strength to do it ourselves. Experiencing horror, pain, without a doubt significantly impacts our lives. All of this comes with age, helping us to develop into the