Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

Sunday, March 29, 2015

The Dragon Morpher

The Dragon Morpher

The day had started off simple enough. I was collecting firewood with Father to bring back to the cave and I was riding on his back as he soared through the air towards the cave that we call home.
My Father, Mother, and I were all Dragon morphers.

Being Dragon morphers meant that we were able to shapeshift back and forth between human and dragon form. Due to the sudden death of a different Dragon morpher, my family made sure to keep a low profile. In order to keep suspicions low in case I accidentally morphed during the day in the village, my Father used his knowledge in restriction charms to make necklaces for me that would resist my morphing magic. All my restriction charms were in either the form of necklaces or bracelets or anklets, the anklets because I didn’t wear sandals. The years of growing up outside had toughened my feet. My Father spent countless nights with me, teaching me what herbs to use in case I became lost I the forest.
Mother taught me how to sew so that I could make myself clothes in the forest. She also taught me what to do in case I was flying in midair and suddenly I morph back human. A shoulder roll is the technique to use in case of mid-air crisis. Of course, another resolve is looking for a tree and angling your body so that you land in the tree instead of the ground but the shoulder roll seemed easier.
It wasn’t.
Five dislocated shoulders later, I finally succeeded the stupid technique. That night we had charred deer and slightly burned blueberry mini-cakes. Regardless of the fact that everything was a little burnt, the dinner was great.
The wind rustled my brown hair and Father dipped and swirled a little bit. I love it when he does this. I literally am shaking at the effort of not yelling with joy. Father`s sides heave and that tells me that he’s laughing. We land in front of the cave I call home. The cave has three rooms. My room has a little sleeping mat set out with my toy Pegasus and a little bookshelf along with a rug set out. The room next to mine was the dining room, which had a table and three chairs. A rug covered the entire floor and the dining room had little paintings of birds flying through the air. I`ve never seen my parents` bedroom.
Mother welcomes us back with a smile because she is in human form and beckons us inside. I leapt off father`s back and run inside, carrying the firewood. I morph my wings, a skill which took a loooong time to perfect. My wins are the color of scarlet with purple. At dinner we eat fresh pineapple and melon, wild boar, and chicken.
We all give a word of thanks to Esmerelldaa, the first female sorcerer who gave the dragons morphing magic. She is the one who gave my kind this wondrous power. My name Elria in old dragon tongue means sunset and is also meant to be a sort-of copy of Esmerelldaa`s name.



We all ate our dinner in a content silence when father broke the silence. “Elria, I need you to take the cart full of this week`s catch to the butcher and trade the rest of the extras to people who will give you more clothes.” I nodded and forked a hunk of boar meat into my mouth. 

After dinner I headed to my room and slipped on the baggy dress that served as my nightclothes. Father and mother came in and kissed me night and as they left my room I pulled my Pegasus toy towards me and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I woke up the next morning writhing in agony. A deep, pounding pain in my head caused me to flinch when I woke and I realized that I had a major headache. I walked out of my sleeping chamber and ate my breakfast, which consisted of blueberries and strawberries with a little bit of honey to help sooth my aching head. Mother and father were still asleep so I crept back into my room and pulled on a faded blue sundress and slipped on my seashell necklace charm. I hopped to the entrance ad leapt outside. I morphed both of my hands into dragon claws and grabbed each side of the cart. We had no horses so I carried around the cart.  Both of the pegs that allowed me to grip the cart were covered in shark skin so that I could toughen my hands and so that I had more traction on the pegs. Turning the cart towards the road, I started off and the quit hum of the forest silence and the occasional swish of the wind through the trees was a pleasant sound. The rosy peak of dawn was only just showing when the peace of nature was broken by a horse`s whinny. I quickly morphed every part of my hands back to human except for the palms and prayed to Esmerelldaa that this person not notice my palms.
I turned my head and saw a youth about my age riding on horseback. The guy had sandy hair and blue eyes along with a smile that would no doubt melt the hearts of most of the girls in the village. I turned back around and suddenly had a vision of a different man in the same armor the boy was wearing but this man wore a malicious smile and carried a spear that was slicked with blue blood. It took me a moment to realize that the blood on this man`s spear was dragon`s blood and the thought of this man being a dragon slayer chilled me to my core. I shivered despite the warm temperature.  
The youth caught up with me despite my best efforts to outpace his horse, which wasn’t very easy considering that I was carrying a cart full of dead game.
“Hello,” greeted the person with a smile. I stared at him with a blank expression. It probably looked like I was bored but in my head, well, my mind me was on her knees and was hoping that this annoyance would go away. “My name is Daryl and I`m looking for a Sheolan Town around here. Do you know where it is?” My mind me was devastated that he would probably be accompanying me to town and sat on her knees, resembling a very mad pixie. I offered a small smile and replied: “Yes, I know where that is. It`s where I`m heading. If you like, you can accompany me.” He slapped me across the face and I tried as best I could to drop the cart slowly as possible as I tumbled to the ground. “When addressing a dragon killer, one does not end a sentence without ‘sir’.” He said coolly as he slid of his horse and offered a hand. Tears stung my eyes from the slap and I faced him with a look so fierce that he backed off. I stood up, brushed off my dress, picked up the cart, and surged forward. “Wait! You were going to escort me to Sheolan Town!” called Daryl. I whirled around to face him, even though he was a few yards behind me. “Find it yourself!” I spat and stalked off, taking the poor cart with me.
When I reached the town, the sun was fully in the sky and the girls were gossiping as the children played in the streets. A few of the shopkeepers called out greetings to me and I smiled in reply. I was walking towards the butcher district when a thought finally occurred to me. What was a dragon killer doing heading to Sheolan Town? I heard collective sighs from the gaggle of girls behind me and turned to see what it was they were looking at. It was the annoying Daryl, A.K.A, the ‘dragon slayer’. I growled and continued my journey towards the butcher’s district but not until Daryl saw me. I cursed softly as I heard him jump off his horse and run to me. “Hello again, maiden,” said Daryl, matching my pace. “What is your name? I didn’t ask earlier.” I looked pointedly ahead but answered nonetheless. “Elria.” Daryl ran in front of me and I had to stop quickly so that I wouldn’t hit him. “Are you mad?!” I hissed at him. “I could’ve run you over!” He smiled and reached out a hand to touch my cheek. The cheek which still stung from the slap. I slapped his hand away and moved around him to, once again, the butcher`s district. But before I left him alone completely, I had to get an answer. “Why are you here, anyway?” I called. “There be a report from a shepherd that there are a family of dragons living here.” I thought that my blood literally froze upon hearing this. But I needed to know another thing. “Will more of you be coming here?” I asked in a shaky voice.
“Oh yes. Half of the army. I was just sent as a scout to see where the town is.”
Daryl turned to face me, which caused many protests from the ladies he was flirting with. “Why are you so curious anyway?” he asked. “Do you know where these beasts are?” I shook my head “No,” I said purposely not saying ‘sir’. I turned a corner before he could realize this.  
 After collecting the coins and clothes from selling the dead game I headed home. To save time, I morphed full dragon form and dodged trees like a pro. I left the cart hidden behind some bushes.  I looked up and saw the smoke that showed me where home was. I grinned and ran full speed towards the smoke. I skidded to a halt and realized with horror that I wasn’t home. In fact, I had stumbled into an area far, far worse.
 I had arrived into a camp area and every one of those soldiers had swords or spears. To make it worse, they were all staring at me.
A squeak of alarm slipped out as I charged backwards and succeeded in ramming my body into a tree. The entire area erupted in a collection of yelling and drawing weapons. Suddenly, every man in that clearing was charging towards me in the intent of killing me. I yelped openly this time, the noise reverberating for miles. I wheeled around and headed back towards the other smoke line. I ran faster than all of the men and glided through the air as I leapt away. By the time I had arrived at home I had left the men lost in the forest. I flung open the door as I ran to warn mother and father of the threat. “Mother! Father! Get ready for battle!” I yelled as I ran into their sleeping chamber. My mother opened one eye and was about to scold me until she saw the fear in my eyes. Mother quickly shook awake father and told him what was happening. He jumped out of bed and immediately morphed full dragon. Mother did the same. I quickly jumped onto mother`s back and we all thundered outside. Mother`s green and gold scales gleamed in the sunlight, as did father`s deep blue and red scales. My own scales were purple and scarlet. After hopping off mother`s back I stood in between her and father.
I looked at my father. A fierce expression had taken over his face. The same with Mother.
The yelling was the first sign that the soldiers had come. My necklace clattered against my scales and scared me. 
When the first soldier was in sight Mother plucked me off the ground and used an ancient dragon incantation to force me to turn back human. It felt horrid being forced to morph back. Mother looked into my eyes. “Elria, go into the house and take that ancient book off the pedestal and place it up here, along with your sleeping mat and blanket.” Whispered my mother fiercely. I opened my mouth to protest but she shushed me with a claw. Mother tucked a strand of hair behind my head and hugged me tightly. She then let go and whispered something to me: I love you. My eyes teared up as father roared the same thing. Mother tipped backwards, allowing the wind to let her drift down. I shimmied down the hole in our roof where the sun came in and grabbed the book and stuffed it into my bag, along with some food, my sleeping mat, blanket, and my waterskin. I clawed my way back up and found Daryl standing there. 
I allowed a small eep and started back down the hole when he grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “Come on!” he yelled over the chaos. “We have to leave while they kill the monsters!” My face paled at the thought of my parents being killed and then I shook off the thought. I peeked over the edge just as a stray arrow caught my father right in the heart. He unleashed a deafening scream and fell to the ground with a great thump.
“Noooooooooo!!!” I screamed. Father looked at me, managed a weak smile and mouthed I love you. Mother saw my father fall and gave a deep, raw cry of anguish and sadness. She looked at my face and mouthed the same thing my father had moments before his demise. Daryl was yelling with excitement and dragged me down the roof. Mother looked at me with those deep blue eyes and I knew what she was going to do. I shook my head as hard as I could but she mouthed it once more: I love you, and flew off, the soldiers and their shouts following. Daryl was dragging me farther away from my father’s body and I thrashed and fought back. “Let go of me! Get away from me!” I screeched as he continued dragging me backwards. I kicked his shin hard and he slackened his grip to nurse his leg. Tears were streaming down my face as I flung myself on my father`s body. A second cry choked through the air and I knew instinctively that mother was dead.  Tears were running down my cheeks even more and I howled into the air a mourning cry. When I had finally calmed down enough, I took one of Father`s beautiful scales and placed it in my tunic pocket. I delivered Father a farewell kiss on his sulfur smelling snout and faced Daryl. The young dragon knight grabbed me by my arm and hauled me off to go and see the ‘dead beast’ as Daryl says.  
We reached Mother`s body in an estimation of 10 minutes and by the time we arrived, I had already started crying again. One of Mother`s beautiful green wings was flopped over at an unnatural angle and a trickle of blood trailed from her mouth as she stared silently at nothing. Another strangled cry forced itself out of me and I thrust my arms outwards, forcing me out of Daryl`s grip.
I cradled Mother`s head on my lap and did the same mourning cry that I did with Father. I placed a kiss on her scaled head and took a scale from her and put it in my pocket as well. Strong arms hauled me up and something bashed me in the back of the head. The world faded in and out until finally, everything went black.



When I woke I found myself in a lavishly decorated room. There was a painting of the same man I had seen in my strange vision. And I was under the sheets of a soft bed. I threw off the covers and started running towards the painting when a wave of nausea struck me.
The world spun as I fumbled for something to grab hold on. I finally found a chair edge and steadied myself. The world swam in front of my eyes until gradually my sight finally returned to normal. I made myself aware of my surroundings and heard music coming from somewhere in the room.
Then I remembered.
I remembered being hauled off to this room and being left here. Mother and Father were now dead, our home almost undoubtedly destroyed. 
And I was undoubtedly in the home of the ones who killed my parents. I finally found the place where the music was coming from and turned a notch to turn it off. My mouth moved but no words came out.
Then the dam holding back my rage broke.
I whirled to the bed where I was laying earlier and tore at the sheets until they were ripped strips of silk. I then attacked one of the bedposts and clawed at it like I was a cat. I then kicked the stupid thing several times, enough to almost make it break completely and walked over to the vanity table.
After a second of staring at my reflection, I grabbed one of the table legs and heaved it across the room in my mad rampage. It was only then I realized that this probably wasn’t the best idea because I might accidentally morph while in this state. After considering this, I picked up a china vase, examined it, and then threw it against the door as hard as I could.
As I walked over to the painting I had seen, I tried to push al thoughts about Mother and Father away for the moment to stop myself from going mad with sorrow and grief. I reached the painting and looked at the caption underneath it.
“’Sir Aso Guordi, The great dragon slayer’.” I read aloud. “Heh. Hardly great that he’s a dragon slayer.”
I walked back to the bed ad promptly demolished it with a smile. I placed my hands on my hips and stuck my tongue out at the painting, then threw a perfume bottle at it. It broke on contact with the painting, filling the room with a sweet fragrance. I took one sniff of the air and almost died it smelled so bad. I faked gasping for air as I walked on over to the chair and sat down in it.
I sighed and punched the wall and managed to knock one block out of place.
After this I walked over to a bookshelf (which I didn’t know was there) and randomly picked a book off the shelf. “Ancient history of Eryia,” I sad aloud. I thumbed through the book and found that it was boring. The results were also the same on the next book and the next and the next etc.
On the last book I sighed with annoyance and threw it against the wall.
“Is there anything good to read in here?!”
I heard the soft tsk-tsk-tsk sound of disapproval as someone entered the room.
It was the man from the painting, the dragon killer.
I could feel the blood fall from my face and as soon as he opened his mouth to say something, I whisked myself out of that room and away from that man. As I ran I morphed my legs and ran faster as I tried to escape the place that that man dwelled in. This must have been a very poorly guarded castle because I whisked myself out of there before they could even sound the alarm.
AS I reached the forest I started to look for trees that I could stay in. Nope, too skinny. Definitely no, much too old and rotten. The rage that had been burning brightly a few minutes ago was now replaced with the jittery feeling of escape.
Finally I found a tree not too far from the castle area and that was strong and healthy enough to support my weight. I positioned myself for ambush from the trees because I wanted to send a message to the castle. MY message was that you shouldn’t annihilate a family just because you think it’s dangerous. My other message was that I wasn’t afraid to kill. My last message was practically a declaration of war.   
I was going to hold Daryl hostage the first chance I was given.
The chatter of a night patrol filled the air around my tree. Suddenly I was nervous. How would I take out so many men? How can I know if I can knock someone out if I haven’t even caught a squirrel? The answer was suddenly very clear: Father and Mother would do that same thing for me.
I gritted my teeth and gave the mother of all roars. I morphed my wings and morphed my legs and hands. As I dropped from the tree, I knocked out one man with a blow to the back of the head and another by doing the same. Soon the area around me had four men unconscious on the ground and the only one still standing was Daryl, not because he was an amazing fighter but because I needed him to see what I was capable of. He had his sword drawn and he was shaking as well.
I smiled and batted the sword from his grip like it was a ball of yarn. I quickly knocked him out with a swift hit to the back of his head and found a rope on his person. Stupid guy, I thought to myself with a smirk.
Now all I needed was someone to tell Sir Aso Gourdi about Daryl. . .


Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Forgotten

Suddenly, the room, the people, and everything around him melted away in one quick instant, and he found he was standing outside, in an open field. Blinking, he looked around, wondering how and why he was suddenly standing here. Just moments before, he was – well – what was he doing? For some reason, he couldn’t quite remember where he had been just been, even though he was sure it was only seconds ago that he was there.  The harder he thought about it, the less he remembered.

Almost right away, he noticed that this field was not empty. Scattered around in no particular order, were large, white, words. They stood about chest high, and looked as though someone had dumped a bag full of charades words and had neglected to pick them up.

He started to walk toward one of the nearer piles, and saw that one of the words was “Vacuum.” Right next to it were the words “Sandra Bullock,” “Cardigan,” and “Bruschetta.” Puzzled, he continued to walk around and examine the different piles. Each one had disconnected words, completely out of context, just lying about. He thought that these words seemed to be…what was the word? It was on the tip of his tongue…these words seemed to be…

He tried to think of the word that described what these words seemed like, and as he did, he looked up toward the pale sky. There, right above him, high in the sky, was a small black dot, slowly getting larger. It only took him a few seconds to realize that something was falling out of the sky – and it was falling right toward him. Just as the object became frighteningly large, he dove out of the way and landed hard on the grass just a few feet away. Right where he was standing, there fell with a loud thud, another chest-high white block word.

He stood up and brushed the grass off his pant legs and started to walk around to the front of the object. As he rounded the corner of the word, he saw that it said “Forgotten.”

“Yes!” he shouted. “These words seem to be forgotten by someone! That’s the word I was trying to remember!” It didn’t seem strange to him that the word he was trying to remember fell out of the sky right where he had been standing. For some unknown reason, it seemed like exactly what should have happened, but if anyone asked him why it seemed this way, it is unlikely that he could have said.

Like a flash, he climbed on top of the word that had just landed and tried to survey the entire field. To his left, on the edge of where he could see, he thought he saw a tree line, but it was too far to tell. To his right, he saw an object that seemed to stand out against the hazy distance. He climbed down and started running toward it.

It took a few minutes to make it across the field, but as he got closer to it, he saw that it was a large sign, the bottom of which stood about two feet above his head. He moved around to the front of it and started to read it. This is what it said:

“The thoughtful forgetful forgetting to think
The thought you forgot is beginning to sink
Like lead it will land in this land on the lawn
And remain like a stain on the brain thereupon.”

As he stood there, reading the sign, trying to put the puzzling words together, he heard a voice behind him.

“What are you doing here?!”

The suddenness of the demand made him start and quickly look around. There, standing on the grass in front of him, was a tall, thin man in a three piece suit. The tie was perfectly done, and he stood there as still as a statue, staring at our visitor with wide, unblinking eyes.

“I…I don’t know. I was somewhere…I don’t remember where…and just showed up in this field. Where am I?”

“Oh, not another one.” Was is flat and droll reply. “I can’t believe this happened again.”

With these words, he pulled out a walkie talkie and spoke quickly into the receiver.

“Ed, another one dropped down and he’s here all confused. We’ve got to start another C-2358 before this turns into a full-blown incident.”

“Excuse me, but I still don’t know where I am. How do I get out?”

“Listen pal, if I had to explain this to you, I’d be getting paid a lot more than I’m getting paid, you know what I mean? Did you read the sign? We put that up so I’d have to stop telling people. You people are exhausting.”

“Yes, I read it, but I’m not sure I understand it. It’s a little cryptic, isn’t it?”

“Cryptic?! We went through study after study to make sure we wrote it so you people would understand it. Cryptic.”

At this last mutter, the tall thin man picked up his walkie talkie again and barked into the receiver at the person on the other end. “Hey Mac, how long is this going to take? This quacklacker is staring to get chatty, and I don’t have time to debrief another one. If this goes full incident, you’re going to be doing the explaining, not me, get it?”

There was a muffled reply over the walkie talkie, which seemed inaudible, but the tall man clearly understood it, because he turned red and barked back into the receiver.

“No, I did the last three and you haven’t done any since before…”

More muffled talking over the speaker cut him off mid-sentence. He thought for a minute and then clicked it off and put it back in his pocket.

“Okay, but you better pay attention, because I’m not repeating anything. I don’t have time for this nonsense, and no offence, but you don’t seem like the cleverest one we’ve ever gotten down here, you know?”

“Down where?”

“No questions. Just listening and nodding.”

He nodded his assent.

“You know when you forget a word? You think that word just drifts around forever after you forget it? No. That would be chaos. Could you imagine words just suspended in mid-air forever. That’d be crazy. So, this place is where they all land. You remember your word? Great. You think it just comes back like magic? No way. Words don’t work like that. If they did, I’d be out of a job faster than you could say blackjack. You forget a word, it lands here. The word you might remember later is a totally different word. Not the same one as before. Sure they sound the same, but they’re not. So when you people forget your words, they come down here. They gotta go somewhere Mack, and this is it. It’s not a glamorous job, but it’s a living. My job is to manage all the words so they don’t pile up and get in the way. They gotta be stored neat and nice, see?

He leaned forward and waited for his audience of one to indicate that he was following along. 

Our visitor quickly nodded, hoping that his delay in response wouldn’t derail the story.

“Okay.” He continued. “So every once in a while, something gets crossed in the wires and we get someone like you down here. You all just pop up all confused and it falls to Ed, or more likely, me, to sit you down and explain what’s what. I’ve never figured out why we get you all sometimes, but it’s no picnic and I sure as Duffer ain’t compensated for my trouble.”

Just then, he reached into his pocket and flipped the switch back on.

“Ed, you got that C-2358 ready yet?”

More muffled sounds in response.

“Well it’s about time. Get it going before I come up there and smack you so hard you’ll see straight again.”

Before he finished speaking, everything began to go grainy and pixilated. The field, the tall thin man, the scattered words, all faded away, and he found himself back in the living room of his home, with a cup of coffee in his hand nodding along in conversation with a young woman a few feet away from him. She had just finished saying,

“…so I hope that’s not weird for you.”

Before he realized what he was saying, he found the words coming out of his mouth.

“Honestly, I am really happy for you. It seems like the best move for you, in every respect, so how selfish would it be for me to be upset about it?”

She smiled and breathed out a sigh of relief as she stepped forward to hug him.


“You’ve changed a lot, you know that?” she said as she finished the hug and stood apart again. “It’s like you’ve forgotten yourself and are putting other people first.”

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Puting a Period at the End of this Thought.

The Yellow Wallpaper has been my absolute favorite short story since I was in high school. Reading it every few years always sparks some new interpretation. This is the beginning of a final I was writing but never finished for lack of ability to express my thoughts. However, now that the pressure is off, I believe I have finally created a more cohesive thought.
 ****
Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper is narrated by a delusional and insane narrator, through this bias narration, the imagery and diction contributes to the confusion and ambiguity within the story. The narrator’s conflict with the yellow wallpaper, which symbolizes her instability, pushes her towards a deeper sense of insanity and the imagery often symbolizes the elevation of her paranoia and confinement. Being narrated by the main character results in ambiguity in reference to her sanity until the end.
When the narrator discusses her condition, she remains slightly ambiguous., restating only what her doctor, husband says, then brushes it off, “So I will let it alone and talk about the house” (2). She does sometimes assert possible solutions to her problem but she never hypothesizes about the root of her problem. The quote above is also the first incident where she buries her problems by talking of the house, which ultimately begins to illustrate her madness.
The narrator speaks very often of her “husband” but due to some strange statements about him, it could be asserted that this “husband” could be her doctor with whom she has fictionalized some romantic connection with in order to cope with her presence in an insane asylum. Through the reading, we learn that he does not stay with her at night, “John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious” (4). It is highly coincidental that she married a man who happened to be an expert in mental disorders who has extreme “cases” (4). There is enough ambiguity to categorize his character as the doctor and her character as the patient. He talks to her patronizingly, the way a doctor who believed his female patient to be simply suffering “hysteria” would in the early 1900’s (4). The final moment that supports this assertion is during an episode between John and his “sister”, Jennie, “I heard him ask Jennie a lot of professional questions about me. She had a very good report to give” (17). This quote persuades the reader to also question whether Jennie is John’s sister or a nurse. The use of the term “report” insinuates that Jennie is literate in the diagnoses of “hysteria” and again questions the legitimacy of our narrator’s observations.
The images within this story are highly personified, adding a sense of the paranoia of our narrator. This imagery repeats the feelings of paranoia several times throughout the story. The narrator applies human aspects to the objects within the house, “All those […] bulbous eyes” in the wallpaper. The eyeballs insinuate her feelings of being observed by Jennie and John; she expresses her awareness of their watchful eyes by putting eyes onto the wallpaper. More personification of objects in her past perpetuate her personification of the things around her, “I remember what a kindly wind the knobs of our big, old bureau used to have, and there was one chair that always seemed like a strong friend. I used to feel that if any of the other things looked too fierce I could always hop into that chair and be safe” (7). Further personification of the furniture around her insinuates bother her desire for protection and her paranoia.
Images within her room insinuate her confinement (possibly unwilling confinement). This imagery is perpetuated by several different descriptions provided by the narrator. Her description of her room provides more insinuations of confinement, but to a stronger extent, it appears to be more of a prison. Her “bedstead is nailed down […] and the “bedstead is fairly gnawed” (18), she sees “bars” in the wallpaper (15), and the windows themselves have “bars” (13).
This short story contains an interesting use of pronouns. Gilman often changes her use of pronoun very quickly, without notice, to confuse and interchange the point of view and perpetuate our characters madness. One scene especially illustrates the narrator’s confusion with her use of pronouns, “I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled off yards of that paper” (17). The beginning of this scene approaches these two women as separate entities, ultimately bringing them together- insinuating that the woman is actually seeing herself within the wallpaper and the other woman is a mirroring vision of our narrator. Gilman uses pronouns to interchange the speaker and actor. The word “creeps” several times, which refers to someone crawling on all fours. Throughout the readers encounters with “creep” the “creeper” changes form. “it creeps” (14), “she is always creeping” (16), “you have to creep” (19), “I had to creep” (20). This use of alternating pronouns shows the narrator to slowly change from a depressed woman to an out of control, animal-like individual.

Conflict within this short story occurs in several different areas, her “husband” presents a sort of contingency, her writing serves as a conflicting exercise of coping, but the yellow wallpaper is what drives our narrator to her ultimate loss of control. She is obsessed with this wallpaper, it affects her directly, and as she interprets it, she puts herself into the wallpaper. This results in a fabricated vision of herself- running her wild. The use of pronouns in reference to, “she” the woman in the wallpaper and “I” the narrator is a representation of herself as she attempts to free herself from her imprisonment.   

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Raisins

“We fry raisins.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Raisins.  We fry them in our spaghetti sauce.  It makes the sauce sweeter.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?  I'm trying to read my book.”

“No.  I just thought you should know.”

“You thought a complete stranger should know that you fry raisins in your spaghetti sauce?”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Raisins?”

“Yes. Have you ever tried frying them before you put the sauce in the pan?”

“No.”

“You should.  It’s delicious.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll try it sometime.”

“That’s how my mom always cooked them. Some people put sugar in the sauce, but my mom always fried raisins.”

“I guess that would work.”

“I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Well, we’ve never met, but my mom gave you up for adoption when you were born. I just thought you should know how she made spaghetti.”