The Night that Changed My Life
The night’s darkness blanketed the cabin and the landscape like a mother and her newly born child. The winter snow on the ground illuminated the moon’s light and made it very easy for seeing into the distance, but there was nothing to see; for miles and miles tall pines and rolling terrain contained nothing but Mother Nature. I lay silently in my bed and watched out my window the snow drifting methodically to the ground. The tall pines stood watching over the cabin and their shadows seemed to have a life of their own. The howling wind caused an occasional screech and moan of the old wooden door. I was alone in my cabin except for the wicked cold, which made me a number of times reach for my blanket as it nipped at my exposed body. I trembled and my teeth began to chatter as I read my newspaper by the candlelight. As I began reading I came across an article about an escaped madman from a Maine jail. I looked at the picture and for some reason I thought I knew the man, but in reality I knew I did not. I continued to read as I tried to pass time as I expected the arrival of my girlfriend, Michelle, who like myself, was looking for an escape from this harsh world. This isolated spot in Northern Maine had great privacy and seldom had visitors. I lay patiently awake and a wait a knocking on my door.
Suddenly, without warning, the candle blew out and a chill came across my body that was indescribable. I quickly rose to my feet to relight the candle, but I soon realized that I was out of matches. I hesitated to move, I hesitated to breathe, but then there was a knocking on my door and my heart suddenly dropped into my stomach. BANG, BANG, BANG. I stood frozen in the middle of the room like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. I practically crawled to the door to see who it was. I prayed after each step that it was Michelle, but for some reason I knew it was not. I went to the door and stood silent, almost like I was waiting for that person on the other side to open the door before I did, but they didn’t. I searched for the handle in the darkness, but I need not to find it.
“Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen” (“Brainy Quotes” 1). In Edith Wharton’s framed novel, Ethan Frome, the main protagonist encounters “lost opportunity, failed romance, and disappointed dreams” with a regretful ending (Lilburn 1). Ethan Frome lives in the isolated fictional town of Starkfield, Massachusetts with his irritable spouse, Zenobia Frome. Ever since marriage, Zenobia, also referred to as Zeena, revolves around her illness. Furthermore, she is prone to silence, rage, and querulously shouting. Ethan has dreams of leaving Starkfield and selling his plantation, however he views caring for his wife as a duty and main priority. One day, Zeena’s cousin, Mattie Silver, comes to assist the Frome’s with their daily tasks. Immediately, Mattie’s attractive and youthful energy resuscitates Ethan’s outlook on life. She brings a light to Starkfield and instantaneously steals Ethan’s heart; although, Ethan’s quiet demeanor and lack of expression causing his affection to be surreptitious. As Zeena’s health worsens, she becomes fearful and wishes to seek advice from a doctor in a town called Bettsbridge giving Ethan and Mattie privacy for one night. Unfortunately, the night turns out to be a disastrous and uncomfortable evening. Neither Ethan nor Mattie speaks a word regarding their love for one another. Additionally, during their dinner, the pet cat leaps on the table and sends a pickle dish straight to the floor crashing into pieces. To make matters worse, the pickle dish is a favored wedding gift that is cherished by Zeena. Later, Zeena discovers it is broken and it sends her anger over the edge. Furious, Zeena demands for a more efficient “hired girl” to complete the tasks ar...
Edith Wharton’s brief, yet tragic novella, Ethan Frome, presents a crippled and lonely man – Ethan Frome – who is trapped in a loveless marriage with a hypochondriacal wife, Zenobia “Zeena” Frome. Set during a harsh, “sluggish” winter in Starkfield, Massachusetts, Ethan and his sickly wife live in a dilapidated and “unusually forlorn and stunted” New-England farmhouse (Wharton 18). Due to Zeena’s numerous complications, they employ her cousin to help around the house, a vivacious young girl – Mattie Silver. With Mattie’s presence, Starkfield seems to emerge from its desolateness, and Ethan’s vacant world seems to be awoken from his discontented life and empty marriage. And so begins Ethan’s love adventure – a desperate desire to have Mattie as his own; however, his morals along with his duty to Zeena and his natural streak of honesty hinder him in his ability to realize his own dreams. Throughout this suspenseful and disastrous novella, Ethan Frome, Edith Wharton effectively employs situational irony enabling readers to experience a sudden shock and an unexpected twist of events that ultimately lead to a final tragedy in a living nightmare.
The darkness of her bedroom crept into her body. As time progressed the sounds of the evening grew louder leaving her in a state of fear. Amongst the dark room she would see the shadow of someone standing outside her bedroom window. She didn’t know why someone would want to hurt her. Afraid to tell her parents she found refuge underneath the sheets of her bed. After several sleepless nights she spoke to her mother about the mysterious person outside her window. Her mother shrugged it off and told her that no one was there and not to worry. Her mother believed that this was either her imagination or eating too close to her bedtime. However, Elyn was determined to catch this mysterious man. Next, she enlisted the help of her brother Warren. Frightened they hid in the closet waiting to capture the bandit. Unfortunately, this heroic attempt was unsuccessful as the bandit never revealed himself to anyone but her. Soon it became apparent to everyone that no one was outside her window. But, these feelings of a watchful eye never fled her. As a result, Elyn spent many nights terrified underneath her sheets only falling a sleeping from
Our backs hunched over as we started lifting sustainable sandbags with our drained muscular arms onto a dark wooden shelf. The scorching sun heated up the unswept metal fence behind us. Our feet were burning as we stood on the blistering concrete floor. We were sweating from every inch of our dried out body’s. Looking around the isolated area the smell of freshly cut grass starts to fill up in the atmosphere. The crinkled brown autumn leaves abandoned the thin branches sticking out from the ancient oak tree stood in front of us. A mysterious slim figure approached us from the distance. As the strange shadow got closer to me I could see a velvet red knee high dress blowing in the wind; bright red lipstick on a slim face, it became clear to me that it was Curley’s wife! Her devilish eyes looked deep into our sole as she stroked silky, exotic hair with her perfectly painted, red finger nails. “Hey boys” she called. I looked away with no interest; Lennie followed my lead. Her face went from a cheery smile to a sulky frown and she bashfully strolled
She illustrates how they are cozy, warm and comfortable in the house but there is a sense of something missing. On the surface, the situation seems comfortable, happy and good but underlying is the feeling of loneliness, depression and coldness. The mother’s feeling contrasts very well with the outside environment being cold, dead and quiet. As the ex-husband comes back, the mood changes entirely. The mother describes the house as a “Warm kitchen on a cloudless night.” (Coleman 43). Coleman used the same environment to produce two entirely different views on the
I sipped slowly on a cup of hot chocolate after the sun set, and pondered in my head what my first activity might be when I woke up in the morning. Should I build an impenetrable snow fort inspired by images of Minas Tirith? Or perhaps amass a pile of snowballs to use for the inevitable war that I would start with my sister. Quickly I became distracted by the beautiful, handcrafted wood which formed the dwelling. The rich orange and distressed brown mixed perfectly to create something so easy on the eyes, I had difficulty comprehending how it came to be. The smooth and flawless texture led me to run a hand over to test for splinters. The smell of the wood was intertwining with smells from the fireplace, the kitchen and my cup of hot chocolate. All of these sensations came together to form a feeling of tenderness, akin to a mother’s embrace. I never wanted to return back home. I had discovered a place so perfect, so inviting and peaceful, I vowed to never return to the familiarity of home. This was only the first day with vastly more to look forward
It's dark out. The street remains quiet and the sounds of the city have faded. A woman walking down the street crosses, her heels thumping against the sidewalk. As she walks further into the night she feels a presence upon her. Suddenly the worries of the day have escaped her mind. All she can think about was the increasing echo of heavy footsteps behind her. Heart beating, she skips along the street, heels thumping with every step. She reaches a stoplight, and her heels come skidding to a stop. Her chest is aching and she's beginning to accept her fate, when, the man steps into the light with her. At first she looks away, praying that he won’t choose her as his next victim. As the seconds vanish, she decides to turn, to take a peek at the man breathing quietly beside her. Her brown hair whips around her shoulder and she clutches her handbag studying the man. It was difficult to make out his face in the poorly lit corner, but as she examined him she took note of his shiny blue eyes and light complexion. Without delay, her shoulders relax, and she releases the tight grip
.... Finally, my parents arrived, riding the sound of their running footsteps on the hollow wooden dock. Dad immediately relieved my weary arms of their burden and pulled my brother out of the cold blue lake. I looked up into my Mom's face to see tears of mixed panic and joy as she embraced my younger brother, heedless of the world that surrounded the two of them. She focused only on her son, who looked back at her silently with deep brown chestnut eyes.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
“An Event Which Changed My Life” An Event which changed my life, well when, I think back on my life there’s Many changes for the good and some were bad but, there were some learning experiences that help make me a better person. The events in my life, was dealing with the Birth and The Death of my first daughter. The First, Event was the birth of my first daughter it, was a joyous event in my life.
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.
I wearily drag myself away from the silken violet comforter and slump out into the living room. The green and red print of our family’s southwestern style couch streaks boldly against the deep blues of the opposing sitting chairs, calling me to it. Of course I oblige the billowy haven, roughly plopping down and curling into the cushions, ignoring the faint smell of smoke that clings to the fabric. My focus fades in and out for a while, allowing my mind to relax and unwind from any treacherous dreams of the pervious night, until I hear the telltale creak of door hinges. My eyes flutter lightly open to see my Father dressed in smart brown slacks and a deep earthy t-shirt, his graying hair and beard neatly comber into order. He places his appointment book and hair products in a bag near the door signaling the rapid approaching time of departure. Soon he is parading out the door with ever-fading whispers of ‘I love you kid,’ and ‘be good.’
There have been very few events throughout my lifetime that I feel have impacted or inspired me with such noteworthiness and that I know will change my outlook on the world and affect me forever. One of those events occurred when I traveled to Portugal, my parent’s homeland. From this excursion in 2007, I learned the importance of family, most importantly the distant kind. It provided me with a totally different perspective on the world and how large and extended one’s family can really be; even across cultures and continents. I felt so fortunate learning this lesson at a young age and growing to appreciate the ideals I was brought up with as a child. The family I have in Portugal has always been there; however, their faces have aged and are blemished with the passing of many years and difficult times. Some newer additions to the family have started to become a part of the modern Portuguese workforce. One of my cousins was studying to become a veterinarian and another was working as a nurse at the local hospital of Montalegre (or “Happy Mountain”).
Sometimes it just takes one event to forever change your outlook on life. One such event happened to me when I was only 5 years old. My day started out as most 5yr olds growing up in the south in the late 60’s, only I was a bit different because unlike my neighborhood friends, my mom was 55yrs old. My mother gave birth to me when she was 50 years old and I was the youngest of 8 children, most of which were grown with children of their own when I came along. My mother spoiled me rotten, she was very attentive to my every demand. And I mostly demanded cereal, Rice Krispies only! My mother wasn’t very playful with me (what 55yr old would be?) but I felt her love. She would not let me out of her sight, she was always there, until one day she wasn’t. I woke up that morning in my mother’s bed as I often did, and I shook her to wake her up as I always did, only this time the shaking wasn’t working. I remember yelling for my siblings to come wake mommy up, I needed my Rice Krispies! Only instead of waking her up they began yelling and screaming and calling people on the phone. What’s going on? It’s not that serious, just get mommy up! I saw men in white shirts running into the house and then leaving with my mother on a stretcher. I didn’t
Throughout life we come across many people, some who influence us in negative ways, and those who influence in good ways, often changing our complete outlook on life. For me, it took the struggle of one of my best friends to open my eyes. I only wish it wasn't too late to thank her.