The unforgettable day
In the shaggy, dirt ridden alleyway of India, referred to as the slum city nowadays was adjacent to the wealthy city of India and in the slum there was a homeless man. The man whom was in his mid 50 's had poor features with grey facial hair that was continually growing, his face looked tired and wrinkled, and his clothing was rags, wearing the same attire every day, was one of the tens and thousands living in the poor country. He did have a family which included 9 brothers and sisters whom most of them deceased because of the deadly virus gone around the slum. In the slum any disease could develop. The man once had one child but his wife took them away from him about twenty years ago and he never saw them again. Every
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At dawn he grabbed what few belongings he had which was a blanket and a small locket containing a picture of his daughter and he set off the journey ahead. As he neared the border between the slum and the rich of India he realised there was a three metre high fence which was electrocuted which sectioned off the poor and the rich. Near the fence there were dark objects heaped up against the fence and as he got nearer and nearer and foul stench filled his nostrils. He realised then that it was deceased humans. He suddenly thought why these people had died and he realised they were on similar missions to himself, to find out what was on the other side. He didn 't step any further than a few metres away from the towering fence to ponder his emotions. The only way he was going to get over the other side was to dig under the fence. That day he searched for a shovel but instead found a bucket. He worked hard to dig the whole big enough for him to squeeze through. As he slid through the fence in the wee hours of the morning he knew that he had accomplished something that no- one had …show more content…
He ran to the top of the hill and over the crest he saw the most beautiful city with gold walls gleaming in the early sunlight. He thought to himself, is this heaven? The man was awestruck at the sight before him that he fell to his knees because this was what was on the other side. He slowly but surely made his way down to the big city and immediately knew he didn 't belong as he saw people with clean clothes and shoes; little things that the man didn’t own much of. As he walked through the city streets the rich people stared at him and some even held their nose as they passed on purpose; just to make himself unconscious. The man ignored the rude remarks of some but showed his photo of his daughter to others because for a moment he realised he forgot why he crossed over the deadly fence
These two novels spoke about real powerful momentous events that occur in the authors’ lives. The authors emerged from the shadows and transformed their mishaps into motivation of overcoming life’s hardships. These two stories exemplify ways of overcoming Life’s hardships and finding sense of oneself. These authors break their vows of silence to prove the beauty of a broken person. They both converse on racial discrimination, relationships with God, & coming into themselves.
When he arrived at the home the servant who took his hoarse and directed him to the room that Mr. Usher was in greeted him. Inside the house was also very ornate, but it to had also been left alone for to long. The entire house had a gloomy atmosphere that would put a chill down most people’s spines. When he entered the room his friend was staying in he was warmly welcomed. He could not believe the changes that his dear childhood friend had endured.
In Evan Hunter’s short story, “On the Sidewalk Bleeding,” we find a story with many layers. On the surface is a shadow that envelops the events, offering a cloak of mystery for characters which lead your mind towards a deeper meaning. The reader follows a teenage boy who’s caught up in a world bigger than he understands, as a tale unravels that bears resemblance to the Biblical parable of “The Good Samaritan.” A tragic act done in momentary hate results in a chilling twist ending that urges you to reconsider your values in life.
All spring and summer the townsfolk spoke about the three bodies that had been found, mangled and slashed. Now, had the three men headed the warning and stayed away from the old man’s house they would still be alive. Instead they were tempted by the greed in their hearts for the money the terrible old man was said to have possession of. This drove them to enter through his gate and knock on the door. They believed that because he was an old man, he would be feeble and week, making him an easy target for
Although he thought he escaped we were quickly reminded of the unfortunate reality of the story. He showed the will to live in every aspect, but unfortunately did not live up to the hero title he felt he was accustomed to. This story puts in perspective the thought of listening to the rules given, and the consequences that follow. Also, it gives the thought that you can escape reality, but you cannot escape the inevitable of reality coming back; even when you least expect
“It was a large, beautiful room, rich and picturesque in the soft, dim light which the maid had turned low. She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mourning notes without promise, devoid even of hope. She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro, down its whole length, without stopping, without resting. She carried in her hands a thin handkerchief, which she tore into ribbons, rolled into a ball, and flung from her. Once she stopped, and taking off her wedding ring, flung it upon the carpet. When she saw it lying there she stamped her heel upon it, striving to crush it. But her small boot heel did not make an indenture, not a mark upon the glittering circlet.
For some people life may not be satisfactory. Life has many troubles including death, pain, and suffering. It leaves little hope. There are ways in which people can live to have a good life. This method of how a person should live is viewed differently thoughout the world. James Hilton represents this combination of ideas and cultures in the novel, Lost Horizon (1933). This novel tells the tale of four distinctively different people retreating from a war zone. In their retreat they are kidnapped and taken by plane deep into the Himalayan mountain wilderness. Little did they know that here in the confines of the mountains there is a paradise. This paradise is called Shangri-La and is a Tibetan Monastery and community in a place of splendid beauty. Surprisingly, the kidnapped group finds that they are considered guests in this elevated community. They are apprehensive of the cerebrated treatment that they receive, but soon accept and enjoy their "misfortune." Shangri-La is a paradise, but the guests become held prisoner to pleasure and happiness.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
“I wanted to get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight but each time I tried to go I became entangled in some wild strident argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair. Yet high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed their share of human secrecy to the casual watcher in the darkening streets, and I was him too, looking up and wondering. I was within and without, simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life.
It seemed as though the eye was always watching him, maybe even out to get him. Every time he saw the man, he cringed at the sight of his ugly eye. From his point of view, the man deserved to die for having such an ugly thing upon his face. And when he went into the man’s room that night and the light struck the eye, it was the final straw. He had to go…
...ome the dream of attainment slowly became a nightmare. His house has been abandoned, it is empty and dark, the entryway or doors are locked. The sign of age, rust comes off in his hands. His body is cold, and he has deteriorated physically & emotionally. He is weathered just like his house and life. He is damaged poor, homeless, and the abandoned one.
This man handles a knife with him. He was thinking to kill someone to revenge for poor people. That man was arrested by the police. The writer said the man was thinking about the way to solve the problems between the wealthy class and the poor class. Then, the writer described the tenements. The tenements look bad. All that tenements in New York were hard to live in it. Then, the writer gave facts about the people’s life in the tenements. The writer said he never said that New York had tenements less slum than those in old cities. After that, he said that the dangerous class, which is poor class, is less dangerous than the other classes. He blames the wealthy people because of the poverty of the other people. He said that he talked about tenement problems in a meeting. He talked to protestant denominations, and they discussed it. He said that a few of business men was listening to the cry of a Christian, who said that those people can’t understand the love of God because they are only a greedy men. They tried to give a solution that instead of the thinking of the man with the knife. At last, the writer wrote his discussion with a minister, and he said that the minister must put the man where he can respected
Dinaw Mengestu’s novel The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears is a story about an immigrant from Ethiopia named Sepha Stephanos that discovers the freedoms he travels to the United States for are not easily accessible and that sometimes you can lose yourself trying to figure out who you are. The passage that most clearly represents this notion comes as Stephanos is reflecting at the end of the novel, he says: “What was it my father used to say? A bird stuck between two branches gets bitten on both wings. I would like to add my own saying to the list now, Father: a man stuck between two worlds lives and dies alone. I have dangled and been suspended long enough” (Mengestu, 228). This paper will examine the metaphor of the two worlds Stephanos
We all remember these grey gloomy days filled with a feeling of despair that saddens the heart from top to bottom. Even though, there may be joy in one’s heart, the atmosphere turns the soul cold and inert. Autumn is the nest of this particular type of days despite its hidden beauty. The sun seems foreign, and the nights are darker than usual enveloped by a thrill that generates chills to travel through the spine leaving you with a feeling of insecurity. Nevertheless, the thinnest of light will always shine through the deepest darkness; in fact, darkness amplifies the beauty and intensity of a sparkle. There I found myself trapped within the four walls of my house, all alone, surrounded by the viscosity of this type of day. I could hear some horrifying voices going through my mind led by unappealing suicidal thought. Boredom had me encaged, completely at its mercy. I needed to go far away, and escape from this morbid house which was wearing me down to the grave. Hope was purely what I was seeking in the middle of the city. Outside, the air was heavy. No beautifully rounded clouds, nor sunrays where available to be admired through the thick grey coat formed by the mist embedded in the streets. Though, I felt quite relieved to notice that I was not alone to feel that emptiness inside myself as I was trying to engage merchant who shown similar “symptoms” of my condition. The atmosphere definitely had a contagious effect spreading through the hearts of every pedestrian that day. Very quickly, what seemed to be comforting me at first, turned out to be deepening me in solitude. In the city park, walking ahead of me, I saw a little boy who had long hair attached with a black bandana.
He just threw his advise and vanished as if he was an illusion leaving behind one single evidence of his subsistence - the dried goat’s blood over my face. The short man stayed there longer canvassing the blade in his hand by his eyes covered with alternating glimpse of hesitation and clouds of tenaciousness. I stayed on obnubilating in my shelter until he commenced moving away. Subconsciously, I found me propelling myself up and over with the world around me turning upside down. I felt so weak but my enthusiasm kept me persuading this deep wish of following him.