Category: Paper 1

In “The Darling” by Anton Chekhov, people desire the circus and don’t desire theatre. “The public wants a circus, a lot of nonsense, a lot of stuff.” (p. 1). It seems that while Kukin is ranting about what the public wants and how terrible the weather is his words also open us up to the idea of how people are not very accepting of certain things, even without giving them a chance. Whether it be the theatre or certain people the public often wants what is fun. Therefore they prefer a fun circus compared to a more serious theatrical performance. Do we have a habit of following the public norm and decide that some things are more entertaining than others? 

Olenka’s habit of always loving somebody is the reason for her unhappiness. “She couldn’t get on without loving somebody…” (p. 2). Loving someone, caring about them, does that not bring us happiness? Olenka does not like being alone, she needs someone with her. Someone who she can give her love and listen to. If she is alone she has no one to love, she doesn’t realize that she has herself to love. And due to this she always ends up in a miserable state. Why does Olenka suffer? Is she to blame for her loss and sorrow? The story seems to follow a cycle of Olenka meeting, someone, falling in love with them (feeling content), then losing that person (feeling unhappy). Why did Chekhov choose to orient the story this way? Why did he make it so that Olenka could rarely find happiness and struggle to move past her situation of being alone? If Olenka realized that she had herself, that she should take care of herself is beginning to love others then maybe she would have been happier in life. 

Olenka loves too easily. Olenka being called “Darling” was a simple way for people to tell Olenka they loved her. 

“Looking at her rosy cheeks, at her soft white neck… the good naive smile… the lady visitors, in the middle of conversation, would suddenly grasp her hand and exclaim, ‘You darling!’ in a burst of delight” (p. 2). 

When people would call her “darling” because of her kindness and “contentment” it would make her believe that she was being loved and that she could love these people too (p. 3). Is Olenka deserving of love? She seeks it throughout the entirety of the story and finds it multiple times. Even with finding it, she struggles to keep it. Her habit of not being able to live without loving someone is not good for her. It continuously leads to her sorrow. She would be better off accepting loss and understanding that it takes time to love someone. 

“The Darling,” written by Mr. Chekhov, focuses on Olenka, our main protagonist, whose emotional state is a constant balance of good and evil. She is a woman who “was always loving somebody. She couldn’t get on without loving somebody.” She was often described as a “quiet, kind-hearted, compassionate girl, with a soft gentle way about her. And she makes a very healthy, wholesome impression”. After evaluating her persona, we understand that Olenka is a very vulnerable person who seems to have attachment issues, therefore, causing her innate ability to not function without loving someone.

Further, into the piece, we discover just how vulnerable Olenka is, as she had finally given her love to one singular person. She was married, but soon after received the news; “Ivan Petrovich died suddenly to-day. Awaiting propt orders for wuneral Tuesday.” The tone one could imagine would be quite deep and slow as if it were someone verbally telling her of Ivan’s passing. We go into further depth about her pain, when she gets home, she just “[throws] herself on her bed and broke into such loud sobbing that she could be heard in the street and in the neighbouring yards.”

This piece conveys a heavily emotional individual who against all odds, and all the pain demonstrates great strength through their ability to express their feelings. Olenka is a woman who lives in a misogynistic world. Olenka proves herself to be just as strong as the men and is what some could perceive as a great wife and a beautiful woman.

We can see the extent of her emotional ‘obedience’ when noting how “Her husband’s opinions were all hers. If he thought the room was too hot, she thought so too. If he thought business was dull, she thought business was dull.” She becomes a ‘slave’ to her lover’s mind, forgetting all her own thoughts and abilities to seld-manage. Continuously allowing herself to be overtaken by the force and passion of what she believed to be love.

We can begin to argue that the title “The Darling” isn’t actually referring to Olenka. In fact, it is referring to her love and how she uses it to smother someone else in hopes of finding meaning, a purpose in love. If we were to address her love as “the darling”, then we could suggest that the darling was too powerful, that she enamoured everyone she touched. She overwhelmed them with a joyous feeling of comfort and companionship. “The darling” aka ‘her love’ was one of the most powerful, yet uncontrollable sources in the world.

Anton Chekhov develops Olenka’s character through events reoccurring throughout her life. In the beginning of the story, we see Olanka as a young prosperous woman who falls in love with Kukin, A man who seems quite sporadic, dramatic, and sarcastic as he cannot stop highlighting his “heavy losses every day!” (p,1) which seem to convey him as a kind of perfectionist who’s constantly chasing something intangible. despite this “she fell in love with him” (P, 1) this seems to contradict the description of Olanka as “she was a quiet, kind-hearted, compassionate girl, with a soft gentle way about her.” (p,2) we learn that Olanka has had a hard life as she has lost both her dad and mom and is alone in the world, yet the only thing she longs for is to care for someone as “she always loved someone body” (P,2) this may come to surprise to some people because the author including that both off her parents have passed away may convey that Olanka may not be stable and makes it hard for readers to dislike her character.

We learn that Olanka seems to depend on the one factor in her life is being able to love and care for somebody. It was to the extent that “she could not exist a single year without an attachment,” (p,7) which to the reader may come off as Olanka being a player with low morals jumping from one relationship to the next without trying to step back and understand what she was looking for. This raises the question of if Olanka loves these people she is marrying for who they are or if she loves the feeling of caring for someone. We find that in these relationships she would conform to whatever opinion her partner had, as it says” her husbands’ opinions were all hers. If he thought the room was too hot she thought so too.” This seems to limit her independence as a person constantly agreeing with whatever another person says and never having her own opinion about subjects. But this becomes very clear and understandable as to why she was doing this, with every husband she has had she had never done anything wrong to make a reason as to why the marriage should end it always ended because of some tragedy. This makes the reader have sympathy for Olanka and again hard to dislike her. We may want her to be herself and not conform to the opinions of her husbands, but Olanka’s intentions are so focused on only wanting to care and love somebody that her opinions are put second. The result of this can be shown when the surgeon says “didn’t I ask you not to talk about what you don’t understand? When we doctors discuss things” This makes the reader want Olanka to retaliate and stand up for herself, but we also have to understand where the intentions are after repetitively losing people in her life.

Olanka seems to only know how to be someone’s partner or “Darling” and does not know herself. Any person can play that role. Understanding yourself should be the number one priority but it is hard to criticize Olanka with how hard her life has been and how positive she seems to be when she is caring for someone, we see this at the end of the book when she’s caring for Sasha who is not related to her in any way, yet she stays with him. This makes it hard for us to criticize her lifestyle but instead makes us want to route for her to live happily.

Personal Response to “The Darling”

 

Chekhov creates a submissive character who is seemingly anti-feminist. When I say anti-feminist, I mean she feels she needs a man to rely on, in order to make decisions or opinions. Chekhov appears to use elements of satire to expose the anti-feminist society in effect when the story was written.

 

While this humorous story is engaging, I couldn’t avoid getting annoyed with Olga Semyonovna’s inability to form an opinion. Specifically about people she is in love with. It appears she falls in love with different individuals frequently, causing me to think she is incapable of being confident about her own opinions and expressing her own identity. However, I reminded myself that this story appears to expose her anti-feminist personality through satire, exposing how she “needs” a man to make decisions. Her “personality” reminds me of the inconsistent weather introduced in the first paragraph. “It was hot, the flies were nagging and teasing…”(ll. 2-3). This implies it is summer. “Dark rain clouds were gathering from the east , wafting a breath of moisture every now and then” (ll. 3-4). When I read about “Dark rain clouds”, I automatically think of a cold and wet environment such as Victoria or Moscow, Russia. These two phrases seemingly contradict each other. This is similar to how Olga’s love for a specific individual is contradicted by her interest in different people (specifically men).

 

The repetition of the phrase(s) “You darling!” or “The darling!” was frustratingly overused. However, the author uses imagery, sound, tone, diction, etc. as they have a purpose in the story. In my opinion, the author is using repetition of the phrase as satire to expose her need to rely on men to form decisions. However, there could be a deeper meaning I may not have found yet, so I look forward to reading this story again, to further develop an understanding of its meaning, and discovering why the author chose to write this story.

 

In “The Darling”, Anton Chekhov reveals Olenka’s malleability, through the contrast of her two husbands. At the start of this story, we are introduced to Kukin: the pessimistic, eccentric, spiteful character whom Olenka marries. He is a man who makes lengthy, dramatic speeches about the horrors of rain, the nature of mankind, and the state of the general public (p. 1). Through the use of this speech, he seems incredibly overbearing. And yet, Olenka falls in love with him. As she does so, she adopts his opinions about humanity, she starts loving the theater as he does, and she starts repeating his ideas (p. 3). When he dies, she grieves with intense sobbing and painful feelings of abandonment. However, soon after his passing, we are introduced to Vasily Pustovalov. Pustovalov serves as Kukin’s foil, in appearance, profession, and nature. As opposed to Kukin, who is “short [and] gaunt, with a yellow face, and curly hair . . . and a thin tenor voice” (pp. 1-2), Pustovalov seems healthy, with a “sedate voice” and a “dark beard” (p. 4). Furthermore, Pustovalov is the manager of a lumber yard, which often involves outdoor, physical work. This contrasts to Kukin, who works inside a theater, and is visibly ill. Finally, Pustovalov’s character seems much more grounded, steady, and sympathetic, which contrasts to Chekhov’s pessimism and peculiarity. Despite the vast differences between these two men, Olenka falls in love with them both. Like she did with Kukin, she adopts Pustovalov’s opinions and learns about his profession. Beyond that, she stops enjoying the theater, since Pustovalov does not care for it. Olenka entirely changes herself when she’s with these different characters, which shows how malleable she is. To her, it does not matter whether she’s with a spiteful theater-worker like Kukin, or a grounded lumber-worker like Pustovalov. Either way, she loves them, and starts acting like them. Through Chekhov’s contrast of these two characters, he reveals how Olenka embodies her husbands’ personalities, rather than forming her own.

Due to Chekhov’s characterization of her, Olenka seems more like a caricature than a real person. Just like a caricature, she is exaggerated in many areas, yet superficial in others. Throughout “The Darling”, Chekhov repeats that Olenka is a “kind-hearted” (p. 2) girl, with “rosy cheeks” (p. 2) and a “naive smile” (p. 2). Through her interactions with men, she is portrayed as innocent, angelic, gullible, and loving. Beyond that, in both the title and contents of this story, she is referred to as a “darling”, in a condescending manner. People, including the readers, see her as someone to pity and patronize. Thus, we start viewing her as an idea, rather than a real person. Due to her lack of individual ideas, it is hard for us to truly get a sense of Olenka’s personality. We see that she deeply feels emotions of joy, when she gets married; love, when she interacts with her husbands and Sasha; and sadness, when she loses her loves. However, emotions are really all we get from her. As she admits, she has “the same emptiness in her heart and brain as in her yard” (p. 8). For these reasons, reading this piece was somewhat puzzling for me. I can empathize with her feelings of strong emotion, but I cannot comprehend her lack of opinions. This largely contributes to her caricatural essence; she fundamentally lacks an individual identity, which makes her seem superficial. Chekhov has created this effect using a collection of characterizing details, which work together harmoniously. Overall, I think he had done an excellent job of creating an intriguing, somewhat relatable, and somewhat frustrating caricature.

Anton Chekhov’s short story The Darling characterizes the main character, Olenka through reoccurring events with substituted details. As the story progresses, readers understand Olenka to be a complex character; she is loving, lonely, and pitiful at the same time, so that we cannot completely like or dislike her.

Both Olenka from The Darling and Marya from In the Cart are lonely characters, as they are both “fatherless and motherless, all alone in the world” (p. 7). Despite that, Marya and Olenka seem to have completely different personalities. While Marya chooses to feel indifferent towards the (only) potential love-interest, Olenka “couldn’t get on without loving somebody” (p. 2), and attaches to the first person she could find. While Marya acknowledges the attractiveness of Hanov, her independency and pride makes it impossible for her to attach to him. Olenka is the complete opposite; without loving someone else, she “no longer (hold) any opinions” (p. 8) and her life becomes tasteless.

Olenka is a blank canvas, waiting to be painted on. She is characterized as “quiet, kind-hearted, compassionate…” and has “a soft gentle way about her” (p. 2). This and the fact that she is parentless makes it difficult for readers to completely dislike her. Furthermore, Chekhov hints that Olenka has been “abandoned” by others (her “sick father,” her “aunt,” and her “French teacher” (p.2)) before the story even started. Readers can assume that all her previous relationships ended with separation. Perhaps that’s why Olenka doesn’t have her own life; she clings onto someone in hopes of not losing them. This is pathetic, but understandable.

What struck me as sad was that Olenka never did anything wrong that caused her relationships to end. Her two previous husbands died from reasons she could not control. She was a boring but kind and caring wife. One could say she is a victim of bad luck. However, unlike Marya from “In the Cart,” Olenka doesn’t seem to be in financial trouble; she even inherited a mansion from her parents. Any other character could live a decent life in this setting. However, Olenka only knows how to be someone else’s darling, and does not know herself. She is a character that could be anyone’s character; just not her own. Yet there is not much use in criticizing her, as Chekhov has made her life just as complex as ours in a story of such a short length.

Passage 1:
At a specific time, he found out that the pasture from his field had grown; it was like the field was filled with needles; the kid would play with all of his brothers; Alexander, Brandon, Lukas, Andrew, Coen, Silin, Michael, all the children of his father, who were playing and running, and that the sunny, and puffy sky allowed the soccer games to go on. A lake surrounded the field,

Passage 2:
A joyful kid, all in black and the air filled with mist, with long hair all across his head. A kid who plays all day, kicks the ball, helps dad stack hay, and at night he would pray; a kid who ran, stack, cheered, and sometimes jeered; whose eyes sparkled every time he saw a ball as he played in the field running with the wind.

Passage 1:

At such a time I found out for certain, that this static white place was my math classroom; and that little man, my math teacher, and also the board, blank and bleak; and that Jackson, Derek, Kaelin, and Viji, the students of the aforesaid, were also blank and bleak; and that the boundless amount of worksheets, intersected with questions and worries and nonsense, those arms up in the air, that never got answered; and that the bizarre equation, was a integral; and that the scribbles on the board, was a formula; and that the smell of sweat growing from all of it and beginning to doubt, was I. 

Passage 2:

A woman with calm blue eyes, and with messy blonde hair, and with a heavy bag hiding her height. A woman who had been overwhelmed with responsibilities, and exploited for her efforts, and flooded with assignments, and confused by equations, and absorbing knowledge quietly, and struggling with her father; who questioned, and cried, and fought and laughed; and whose voice echoed throughout my halls.

Passage 1

At that moment I realized, that this dark, grey bleak place was School, and that my motivation, dissipating day by day, and the excitement of learning every day have disappeared and vanished; and that fun, joy, tranquility, anticipation, and the appetite for being in a classroom with others, has now vanished; and that long stretched calming drive through the mountains and forest beyond the school grounds; interwoven with the stoic presence of nature and the buzzing of the city filled with people; and the low lying feeling of stress, was the most recent homework assignment lingering over the top of my head; and the small slowly growing weight on my shoulders begins to become overwhelming, I am crying.

Passage 2

A cheerful man, all in corduroy, with a massive Kane by his side. A man with no negative bones, and broken shoes, and with an old, tattered scarf wrapped around his neck. A man who has been gifted Cole for Christmas and covered in flower, burned by stoves, stung by bees, and fallen off ladders; who limps, and complains, and howls, and growls; and whose head only consists of two hairs precisely combed over to the right side of his head.

Passage 1

At such a time, I knew for certain that the tombstones in front of me would continue to haunt me and remind me of death; and my mother repeatedly asking if I was okay, and my grandmother’s wrinkled face staring at the pile of dirt being dumped on his grave, and my cousins walking towards the grass were scared and nervous at that moment conversing with each other through darting eyes; and the sounds of cries and sadness in the air, the rain pouring down aggressively, being aware of every drop that landed, on my face; and the crisp air hitting my face, was the wind, and that even with everyone there, the feeling of sadness, was everywhere.

 

Passage 2

A sad girl, dealing with loss, grief within her. A girl with a blue hijab, a big smile, having so much love to share. A girl who drowns in thought, and wishes to be someone great, and be loved by more, and to help everyone around, and hopeful for better days who screamed, and sang, and prayed; and whose tears flowed gently down her cheeks as her past memories rushed back in.

 

Pastiche 1:
At such a time, I remembered, I remembered a young woman surrounded by a scent that permeated her room; the memories of loss, bottomless emotion filled the air which she inhaled through the smell receptors on her face, the smell brought back memories of the loss she had gone through, her life’s evolution, the effects it had on her once pure soul; now rotting from the inside out, one could only imagine her childhood; how she used to speak with such a soft tongue, how she loved to perform in front of other; this feeling is one which most never experience, but this reminder remained deeply embedded in her mind; as she tried to regain her memories, I realised that girl was me.

Pastiche 2:
A tall, lifeless figure, once known as the life of the party slowly began to slip away. Slowly, you could begin to see the life leave its eyes, feelings ceasing to exist, love losing its effects on its once kind heart. Many ponder as to who this figure might be, where it is from. For those who do not know, it is the demon in your dreams, the monster waiting to wreak havoc inside your mind, this monster is none other than depression deeply buried inside.

Passage 1:

At such a time I found out for certain, that this cluttered place filled with thoughts was in fact my mind; and that Tranquility, my calm emotion, and also Reason, my rational emotion, were depleted and struggling; and that Vibrancy, Confidence, Security, and Decisiveness, sister emotions of the aforesaid, were also depleted and struggling; and that the long endless passageways of my mind, intersected with hopes and dreams and fears, with scattered memories floating around it, was the subconscious state; and that the distant compartment from which the emotions were flowing, was my conscience; and that the big bundle of compassion growing sad from it all and beginning to console my mind, was Love.

Passage 2:

A weary woman, all dressed for winter, with a heavy backpack on her shoulders. A woman with headphones, and with Converse shoes, and with a crystal necklace tied round her neck. A woman who had been lost in novels, and swarmed in essays, and crushed by coursework, and hidden by timidness, and allured by artwork, and puzzled by attraction; who wrote, and worried, and watched and wondered; and whose mind wandered in her head as she sat in my classroom.

Passage 1: Once upon a time, somewhere filled with hexagons in plain grayscale as far as eyes can see, stand Dennis Kim, who once promoted π, and the greatness of circle, now discover the truth, his heart now broken, and filled with regret, with his mouth open wide, come to the realization that “Hexagon are the bestagons”.

Passage 2: A emotionless young man, all in plain dark grey colour, with messy black hair covering his forehead, and ears. A young man, with his black near sight glasses, with a old black table. A young man who is obsessed into the world of anime, who eyes, and hands are flawlessly in sync with those circle in the computer screen, who never learn

Passage 1:

. . . At such a time I found out for certain, that this lovely aroma overcoming my nose was from this little restaurant rested along the street; and that Pablo Garcia, my good old pal, and also Sam Sung from elementary, were rested inside; and that Dwight, Pam, Jim, Kevin, and Michael, all my fellow co-workers, were also somehow fitted within this puny restaurant; and that deeper in beyond the customers, there were little to no chefs, with only a few stoves, polished counters, and a small portion of food rested neatly just behind the counter, and that feeding on this aroma inducing food, was the chefs; and that the countertop separating the customers and the chefs, was the strongest; and that the space where the heartless people eating the food rested held a fan from which the aroma was spreading, was the dirtiest; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was me.

Passage 2:

A broken child, covered in red, with a knife held to his wrist. A child with no parents, and with torn clothes, and with a messy length of hair covering his beautiful eyes. A child who had been left alone, and covered in scars, and kicked, and drowned, and looked at as nothing; who sat still, and smiled, and turned cold; and whose eyes left still revealed a single tear as I stood there watching.

 

 

 

 

PASSAGE 1: 

At that point I realized that this small machine unkept with trash was my car; and that Phillip Pirrip, my father, and Georgiana, my beloved mother, had kicked me out; and that the comfortable, peaceful, compacted, ordinary, spotless, room that I had once lived in, had kicked me out; and that the rural environment near my car, intersected with animals and dirt roads and fence gates, with peaceful farmers driving through it, was where I was living; and that the bright city lights beyond the horizon was my old home; and that the distant place from which the sirens were ringing, was the city; and that the calm, carefree, content human living in the trashed car and singing softly, was me. 

 

PASSAGE 2: 

A bold man, all in Vanta black, with a sleek silver pistol on his hip. A man with a black hat, and with black shoes, and with a mask around his face. A man who had been thrown in a car, and tied in the car, and driven by strangers, and punched by strangers, and cut by knives, and shocked by tasers; who cried, and shivered, and shouted, and whimpered; and whose eyes distressed in his head looked up as he got knocked out again by the strangers.  

Passage 1:

At such a time I found out for certain, that this little room with bad air ventilation was indeed my dorm, and that Freya Feng, whose name starts with two “Fs,” and also Cecilia Chen, whose name starts with two “Cs,” were eating and talking; and that Korean fried chicken, stir fried udon, spicy ramen, wonton, and bubble tea, with extra tapioca and fresh taro, were to be delivered and eaten, and that the spicy instant ramen in the pot, mixed with seaweed and sesame seeds and cheese, with hot steam defusing from it, was only their snack; and that the opened pack of Cheetos, was their previous snack, and that the mixed solution of Diet Coke and Diet Pepsi, was used as a mouthwash; and that the person who witnessed this compulsive feast but said nothing to stop it, was me.

Passage 2:

A short man, all in surgical uniform, with square glasses on his face. A man with greasy hair, and with unusually expensive socks, and with a superstitious Chinese charm hung on his neck. A man who had been scolded by his wife, and cheated by his colleagues, and boasted in his achievements, and talked only of science, and collected stamps, and embarrassed his daughter; who smoked, and drank, and slept, and sobered; and whose belly grew in size as he kept attending stupid banquets with other middle-aged men.

Passage 1:

About the time I was fully informed, this run-down setting, with overgrown brush was the graveyard and; Philip Pirrip, the name of this memorial park, and who was father of those listed below, were alive and unburied; and that Joy, Pain, Happiness, Sadness, and Anger, all the emotions I felt when I believed they were dead and gone; were the dark flat lies that hide in and beyond the human soul, intwined in emotions of love and ecstasy and greed, with dispersed feelings of resentment towards life; the human heart; and that above it, a horrible setting that was to be discovered, was the brain; and that the faint breathing you heard, that emulates the movement of wind, was the horrible energy; the energy that keeps you alive, and ‘creates’ emotions that may or may not be real, was spirit.

Passage 2:

A Cheerful man, all in bright red, with a great beard attached to his face. A woman with a bright smile, and with two big boots, and long hair that covered her head. An elf who had been soaked in snow, squashed by hooves, and cut by antlers, pushed by humans, and rewarded with presents; who snarled, hobbled, delivered, and grumbled and; whose body shivered in the sleigh as the man barked out orders.

 

Passage 1: Throughout the years I’ve been at this school, Brookes Westshore, is not my home; and my dad Miguel, living at home, and also my mom Adriana, were in Mexico are missed by me; and that Luisa, Rodrigo and Diego, my best friends back home, were also are missed by me; and that a combination of emotions comes and is intersected with home sickness, and the excitement to go home. That the light at the end of the tunnel, is the time when I get to go home; and that reason to be happy, when they receive me with a big hug, was the joy; and that cold feeling of sadness growing everyday, with that feeling of losing myself will come soon to an end.

Passage 2: A beautiful dancer, all in a beautiful costume, with great rhythm in her heart. A woman with no limits, and with grace in every step, and her hair moving around. A woman who had a big smile in her face, and showered with sparkles, and strehght to jump, turn, bend and stretch, with emotions flowing, and a message to transmit; who moved, and grooved, and danced, and who’s feet never stop as her mind was leting go all the feelings that cannot let her be herself.

A sad girl, dealing with loss, grief within her. A girl with a blue hijab and  big smile, having so much love to share. A girl who drowns in thought, and wishes to be someone great, and be loved by more, and to help everyone around, and hopeful for better days who screamed, and sang, and prayed; and whose tears flowed gently down her cheeks as her past memories rushed back in.

Passage 1

At such a time I found out for certain, that this cozy place surrounded by snow was our house; and that this old big man with the dark hair, harsh in his ways, and also the young athletic boy in a hoodie, were our coaches; and that Anni, Bent, Linn, Nooa, and Friedi, athletes of the aforesaid, were exhausted and tired; and that the high grey walls, intersected with trees and slopes and cottages, with tiny people moving on them, were the mountains; and that the blue calm surface beyond, was the lake; and that the frightening restless lane from which the noise was coming , was the highway; and that the small bundle watching it all from the side and feeling home, was me.

 

Passage 2

A small women, all in light grey, with her black hair in a ponytail. A women with boots, and a dress, and with a scarf around her neck. A women who had been laughed at in school, and appreciated in university, and admired by her friends, and hurt by her family, and helped by her teachers, and loved by her husband; who cried, and laughed, and studied, and improved; and whose mind got stronger as she found her place in life on her own.

Passage 1:
… That was the time when the truth was made clear, by the dark stars whose light reddened with Lord Eshan’s fury, and by the cathedral, once so opulent, and the monuments built in Her honour, which crumbled to dust; that Kasavionos, Varokira, Azanak, Tesiran, and Ganok, the ancient rulers of Eshara, were once more free to conquer; and that the western countries of Jahion and Cerrus, lands of rivers and mountains and deserts, would soon take up arms in preparation for a war; and that the northern land of Kanar would do the same; and that Eshan the Creator in her anger would not intercede; and that Simon, once named Edward Alder, stood at the center of it all, not knowing what to do.

Passage 2:
A regal man, in a long grey coat, with white streaks in his dark hair and beard. A man with dark eyes, and with a sharp nose, and with mechanical implants in his fingers. A man who had once been a lord, and once been wealthy, and once been respected, and once been powerful, and had once fought, and had once killed; who now watched and listened, and saw and heard; and who always waited in the shadows for his time to come again.

(NOTE: Both of these are derived from the events of a story I intend to write. The first describes the circumstances leading up to the finale, and the second a major antagonist)

Passage 1

 

For me, this was important for learning,

That with this sick face overthrown with guilt and charge,

Hoping that the fearful whip woud vanish, and Indiana would be free of the blood and the buried.

That Rudner should be in coleview with his grandma silvia lodger, yet no cousins as they were far and filled with lead.

So there we are, staring at the eternal darkness outside our backyard, covered by fences, traps and snakes,

Half of them having a rattle and pattern that resembled volcanic ashes

The finish line was long, with zero chance of obtaining the silver,

That no salvage gold could ever fulfill from the gushing years of training, shedding not one tear.

That we weren’t able to overcome the puddle of tears that was growing inside us all, to finally let it out with the smack of a single whip.

 

Passage 2

 

A cheerful women, leaving you in dismay,

Going for more rum in the keg,

A woman who hates rats,

Who loves rhythm n’ blues,

Charging gas to her mustang,

A woman who was cloaked by her father,

Bothered by others, called a sack of bones,

Always carrying mints, sometimes tints,

Cleaning kettles, yet stuck with liars;

Who tripped and dipped,

She shared with fair

That those people who scattered In the concert were riled up by jim

 

Passage 1

At this time I knew, that this merry place blanketed in snow was the mall; and that Santa, jolly in his ways, and also Buddy elf of Santa, were cozy and warm; and that Oliver, Emma, Harry, Thomas, and David, tots of the waiting parents, were giddy yet composed; and that the spectacular landscape beyond the scene, crossed with trees and bells and wreathes, with rowdy shoppers crowding through, was the gates; and that the red and white line beyond, was candy cane lane; and that the distant candy hut from which shouts of joy came, was Santa’s; and that the mound of Christmas joy taking in the season and beginning to smile, was me.

Passage 2

A jolly man, all in soft red, with a great sack on his shoulder. A man with a hat, and with black boots, and with a pipe in his mouth. A man who had been dusted in soot, and powdered by snow, and fattened by cookies, and bit by frost, and warmed by smoke, and framed by beard; who bounced, and laughed, and beamed, and smoked; and whose sleigh jingled as he flew through the night.

Passage 1: …At such time I knew for certain, that this place I called “home” was the pathway that led me into the heart of mine, and that me myself, for long abandoned this place, and also the feeling of being bored of my own origin so much, had been accepted and replaced with the happy, joy, gratitude, delight and peace, all now flow into me like a new first wind of a spring I dearly love so much; and that no matter how hard life is can seems to me, being mixed with the colors of sadness and despair, intertwined with the chaos, conflicts that will never stop, conflicts that I hardly understand, will always be there, and that whenever it all feel too much for me that I just want to stop for a moment to find a bit of peace, home is there; to welcome my little existence and no matter how much has happened, it’s there.

Passage 2: The train passed, with the slight city rain, there I sit with my own self. The cold air, with the lingering sadness, with some quick deep breaths, and with the blue that I have been so familiar with. The cold air which had been there for long, cleansing the air, and dirty the soils, and wet the hot roads, and wind follows, and cut through the busting city life, and bring life, and tear away our hearts; rain comes, and stop, and come, and stop; but is always there to welcome lonely soul who need a moment of tranquil in life.

Pastiche 1: At such a time i saw for certain, that this colourful place, overpopulated with children, was none other than the water park: and that parents payed bored on their sun beds; and that Brandon, Coen, Alex, and Adam, teenagers who were also bored from the long lines; and that colourful slide, which looked like a skyscraper, and full of water, were the water slides; and that dirty, smelly place, was the washrooms, and that distant, over priced place was the restaurant, and the short lonely stain on the park, who was terrified of the slides, was Cameron.

 

pastiche 2: A British man, in a slick suit, with an accent on his tongue. A man with no hat, and with shiny shoes, and a stylish haircut on his head. A man who had travelled the world, seen it all, learned many languages, and became a teacher; who walked, and talked, and wrote with chalk, and put on his glasses as he walked into my clsasroom and lectured us.

Passage 1

When I found out for certain that this bear concrete slab scattered with pitiful little trees was the courtyard; and that Eric MacKnight, peacefully reading, and also Shawn Jones teacher of the tenth grade, were in the classroom; and that Coen, Adam, Chantal and Alex, students of the aforesaid were also in the classroom; and that the dark, drab corridor beyond the classroom, met with doors and staircases packed with students mesmerized by their cellphones was the hallways; and that the great grey building afar was the dormitory; and that the raging rowdy lane from which the machines were screeching and blaring was the road; and that the bunch of energy in the middle of it all, was Brandon.

Passage 2

A fearless man, all dressed in black, with his eyes covered in shade. A man with a suit and with shades, and with perfectly polished shoes tied to his feet. A man who had been freshly bathed in water, and groomed by scissors, and pressed by an iron, and shaved by a blade; who marched, and smiled, and laughed and was styled; and whose eyes sparkled as he gleamed at me with a grin.

 

 

Passage 1

At a horrible time the young lion figured out for sure, that this deserted country taken over by drought, was his homeland; and that his lion father, death by hunger, and also lioness mother wife of his father, had starved and rotten; and that brother Peter, brother James, sister Hannah,  sister Cleopatra, and Leo, baby children of the names said before, also passed and rotten by hunger; and the grey dry climate beyond the miserable mood, woven with measly trees and rocks and hills, with delicate giraffes eating from them, was the riverbeds; and that thin line of rocks in the horizon, was our water source; and that the depleted reservoir afar from which the breeze was rustling, was his birthplace; and that the small lump in his heart began to grow from grief and a tear slid down the face, of the young lion.

Passage 2

A cheerful lake, all in dark blue, with a sheet of ice on its head. A lake with no boats, and no broken smiles, and a hockey net tied around the posts. A lake which had been melted all summer, and splashed around by children, and paddled in with paddleboards, swam in by fish, fished in by man, and drunken from by elk, and ripped apart by boats. Who rippled, and swelled, splashed, and roared; and whose water had been polluted throughout the year as the ice split in the middle swallowing a man.

Passage One:

At the time I didn’t realize it, but this yard was the churchyard now covered in nettles. As I looked over I then saw that Philip Pirrip had gone, and Georgiana’s wife had both passed away buried underground; then realized that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobis, Roger, and a small child had also perished and were buried. Looking overseeing the dark wilderness beyond the churchyard was the old marshes, looking farther down the line seen once was a river, where the wind was rushing from you could see a savage lair where the sea used to be, feeling shivers around your body and fear building up, tears starting to slowly fall, could only have been Pip. 

Passage Two:

A man who was a fearful looking man, who had metal in his legs, who had no hat, but broken shoes and a rag that was tied around his head. The man was drenched in water with mud covering from head to toe, with cuts that looked like they could be from flints, with stings by nettles from what I could see, with tires from briars. A man who limped and shaken from head to toe, glared and growled at, whose teeth chattered in his head as we pulled me forward with a sliver chain put on me to pull me along as he moved. 

It was that moment I knew for sure, that this dreary place bustling with adolescents was the campus; and that Jackson Jenkins in the missing of his assignments, and also energy of the day before, was late to class; and that his fellow classmates of years before, and to come, were also late to class; and that the grand beauteous jungle beyond the campus, mottled with bears and cougars and peacocks, with many beast’s residing in it, was the rainforest; and that the slow flow band below, was the creek; and that the obscured unchecked cauldron from which the storms are brewed, was the pelagic ocean; and that the sudden energy growing inside, was the excitement to leave.

 

An unhelpful creature, all in gleaming brown, with a minor matter in its leg. A creature with no collar and with broken teeth, and an old bandana tied round its neck. A creature who had been across lands, and over oceans,and through the rivers, and on top of the mountains, and between the roads, and along the valleys; who limped, and caressed, and barked, and chomped; and whose tongue slobbered my face as it took me down.

Passage 1

At such a time the boy found out for certain, that this space filling with people was an intersection where new roads met; and that Jacob was just the friend in his head, and Greg was never there and never real; and that the boy in my dreams, with the fancy shoes, and nice white T, did not exist, and never will, and that the black asphalt roads stretching on incessantly, weaving and winding, illuminated only by street lamps and stop lights, with cars of all shapes and sizes zooming and zipping on the black asphalt; and the storefronts flanking either side, and people busying themselves with wants and desires, walking to and fro without a thought for the young boy of only ten; looking up to the sky with his hands outstretched, he wished for a better life or a helping hand.

Passage 2

A frightened boy, missing the clothing to suit his torso, with nothing but hunks on his feet. A boy whose hair was mangled and knotted, and a face without a set of teeth, and a façade of 40, and the eyes of a boy of ten, and a crusty rag falling round his collar. A boy who had been tossed in rubbish, and bathed in the sun, and dozed on cement, and avoided by eyes, and looked down on by stilettos; a boy who hunched, and baked, and pleaded, and groaned; and whose mind dreamt of a life without struggle as he raised his hands and asked for a penny.

Passage 1:

At a certain time, the woman was sure, her house was filled with flowers and bushes that were growing on the wall’s; and that the women, loving her happiness, and also her spouse, who were alive and living, and that their sons James, Mark, Jameson, Alexandra, Cassandra; all grown up and enjoying life and that their huge backyard would extend to the lake and that the closing gentle lair of pasture that with the gentle breeze was the lake; and next to it, in the woods, tramping and laughing, was the woman.

 

Passage 2:

A joyful woman, all in a blue dress, a smile everyone wanted to possess. A woman with a big hat, and with high heels, and with a scarf long as an eel. A woman who had been bathed in gold, and who was very bold, her feelings were not cold, whose house was made of stone, her name to everyone was known; a women who ran, and tramp, and laughed, and rhymed, whose hair has long and moved with the wind as the flowers touched her skin.