Loss of Youth: AQWF 2

AQWF writing response 2

                World war one deteriorated the young souls of thousands of innocent men. Whether it was the gruesome trenches to the atrocities they saw each day; nothing would be the same again. Specifically referring to the soldiers who ranged from eighteen to twenty, author Erich Maria Remarque emphasizes the loss of youth through repetition in All Quiet on the Western Front.

                The boys of war were transformed into hopeless, tough, and ruthless creatures because of the life they now were forced to live. Mud, unbearable diseases and death circled their every move. Months before the war they had lived comfortably at home with their parents without a care in the world. War left the boys to grow up. They had two choices; to man up and face the war or to die. The main character of the novel rants about the “Iron Youth” that they have become. Remarque writes, “Yes, that’s the way they think, these hundred thousand Kantoreks! Iron Youth! Iron Youth! We are none of us more than twenty years old. But young? Youth? That is long ago. We are old folk.”(18) The author’s repetition of the simple word youth reveals to be quiet powerful. It seems as though a bell is ringing out the forgotten thought of youth to the main character. The young men have only begun their young adult lives. The author states, “Beyond this our life did not extend. And of this nothing remains.”(20) This is not only the truth for the main character, but for many of the men in the novel. Their simple youth picked apart day after day by the hardening world of warfare.

The Beauty in war: AQWF 1

Despite the atrocities of war in All Quiet on the Western Front, author Erich Maria Remarque evokes breathtaking beauty through imagery. Specifically on page 9 he writes, "The grasses sway their tall spears; the white butterflies flutter around and float on the soft, warm, wind of the late summer." There is an inevitable difference between the warfare and the late summer. Remarque crafted his words to paint a picture in the readers mind and to make them feel as though they were no longer reading a war story. The dancing butterflies reveal purity and life amidst the hardships the men face each and every day. A serene moment such as he described causes the thoughts of warfare to fade. Again on page 9 the author states, “These are wonderfully care-free hours. Over us is the blue sky. On the horizon float the bright yellow, sunlit observations-balloons, and the many little white clouds of the anti-aircraft shells.” Lingering in the distance are the reminders of war, although beauty is more that evident. Remarque displays pure bliss and beauty through his crafting of words.

JH 3

Lanyon sat in a barren room

A fire burned in the sockets of

His scarred eyes

Lanyon questioned all

The madness that had occurred

Seconds ago

The more he thought

The burning spread

Throughout his

Trembling

Shaking

Pale body

Spinning and circling

His mind began to melt

Just as the fire in his eyes

Burned brighter

There was little Hyde

Little ferocious, demonic

Hyde

Smiling with the most ridiculous

Most cynical smirk

Did I want to know?

Did this mean so much?

Lanyon sat reviewing

Each and every

Possibility

Each and every possibility

Of the hell he could

Have relieved

His sacred soul from

What is wrong

With my thoughts

Contemplated the

Scarred one

As his eyes shut

Lanyon towered

Towards the floor

Lanyon felt the last

Trickle of the flames

Drip off his existence

   

JH 4

Author's Note:
I really wasn't very pleased with the ending of Jekyll and Hyde so I decided to make it my own and add a few twists. The ending should have left readers hanging..I tried to do that in my version. Enjoy! Comments are appreciated!

-Abbey

            Hyde escaped into the midnight. His clothes oversized clothes fell off his wretched body. No soul would dare to enjoy his company. His short stature, his deformed face and his hairy hands were not appealing; even to a blind eye. Edward Hyde had become a rabid beast. His sanity no longer existed. Stewing in his thoughts was the pleasure of diminishing the existence of Jekyll. He looked him in the eye and felt the doctor’s last breath drain out from his body. Serenity rushed throughout Hyde as Jekyll lay in his arms. Over powering confidence and satisfaction he had craved was finally there. All the moments he had wished to obliterate Jekyll, all came to an end. Lifeless and useless, there the corpse remained. The horror of the murder had not sunk in until Hyde awoke in a panic. Jekyll crept into the mind of Hyde whispering, “Who’s to hide behind now…Who’s to hide behind now...”.  The quiet panging of Jekyll’s voice froze him to the core. Searing, tight, maddened, hands began to wrap around Hyde’s neck. Frantically he grasped the hands like a child, and acquired the nauseating reality that the hands belonged to Jekyll. He had only been dreaming. There Hyde sat at the last street in London. Looking over his shoulder each and every monstrosity he had ever done, came back to memory. Little flutters of his life danced throughout his mind. Hyde once more took of running through what now was the mid morning. Exhaustion began to engulf his corpulent body. Hyde felt the sudden urge to return the only place he could truly remember. He arrived at a house with no windows or doors. Hyde reached into his hair and drew from it a key. Only one other individual had laid eyes on it. A rustle of leaves left Hyde sincerely worried. There little Hyde stood. 

Jekyll and Hyde writing response 1

Author’s note:

            I was really inspired by the section below of Jekyll and Hyde. The absolute beauty of this scene really made me want to put it into a very short story. I love how Stevenson added light and imagery to this. I also tried to mock a few of his sentences. Enjoy!

-Abbey

“Well, it was this way,” returned Mr. Enfield: “I was coming home from some place at the end of the world, about three o’clock of a black winter morning, and my way lay through a part of town where there was literally nothing to be seen but lamps. Street after street and all the folks asleep — street after street, all lighted up as if for a procession and all as empty as a church—till at last I got into that state of mind when a man listens and listens and begins to long for the sight of a policeman.”

            Among the endless rows of safe havens, a withered door ever so slightly opened. A young woman slipped into the shadows of the black morning. Her mind was just as frazzled as her hair. Moments of the previous evening raced through what she knew was reality. Drops of alcohol cascading down glasses, women laughing, men hollering, and warming yellow candle light livened the motions of the figurines dancing. The clang of a door slamming shutting, the feeling of immense pain shooting throughout her fragile body, weight being thrusted upon her, and the faint memory vanished. Walking down the never ending street, there was nothing to be seen but lamps. Brick after brick followed her after each footstep. Processing down the isle of the boulevard, each member of the town was asleep in their beds. Brick after brick, her path was lighted up as though it was for a procession but as empty as the home she would return to. She stopped for a moment to listen. To listen for something more; as though someone was hiding in the crevices between buildings. The dazed world that lay before her eyes had stopped moving. There was not even a flutter of wind dancing in the air, not even a mouse scurrying home, not even a clatter from inside a home. The young woman laid down in the middle of the road. She breathed in the smell of the earthy bricks and looked at her body. She had forgotten her shoes at the party, her chest ached, her dress had been mangled to some degree, and her legs had patches of bruises. Lingering on her skin was the scent of a man’s cologne. A drum began beating within her head. The beating became incessant and traveled to her heart. Each and every action of the night had flooded her body. Something wanted to be released. Something trapped in side her human soul craved to enter another world. Springing up from the cold ground she had been laying on, the woman ran. She ran to her dingy house at the edge of town. Plunging into her bed, the young woman was finally at ease. Beat after beat grew lesser each time and breath by breath it had escaped. Her innocent, terrorized soul was set free into the mid morning light.

Jekyll and Hyde writing response 2

The Fog

A man stood

Looking at a mirror

His once rosy face

Had grown unsunned

The mirror stared

Back into his solemn eyes

A hazed fog

Wrapped around his ankles

The sun had

Yet to flourish

The sun had

Chosen to hide

Warped into the fog

A cold hand swiftly

Circled his body

Sinister carbuncles

Began to boil

Under his flesh

Looking once more

At the reflection that lay before him

He felt the earth

Roll on around him

That mirror

That mirror elicited

A feeling of great madness

Inevitable prolonged negligence

Stared back at him

All the gaiety he had once known

Was gone

 His eyes burned

As well as his flesh

Something was not right

Something was not right

At all

The fog seeped into

His frowning mouth

It began to suffocate him

The image that glared back at him

Continued to haunt his

Eyes

The man ran as fast

As his legs would carry him

However he could only see

One small thing

Through the almost blinding

Fog

A short man hunched over

Leaning against the lamp post

Staring back at him

He closed his eyes

Falling to the ground

He went down

Down

Down

He opened his eyes

Rising above

He went up, up

And away

Everything that had just happened

Overwhelmed his body

Two people were tugging at him

One side was pulling up

And the other, pulling down

The man in the mirror

Screamed stop

The person pulling down halted

To the sound of his plea

Good bye demon

the fog whispered

Short Story

Authors Note:
I wrote this story about a really tough time in my life. The story that I wrote isn't as intense as the real break up that happened with my boyfriend, however most of it is fairly accurate.At first this project was really hard to start but once I found an extremely powerful topic it was much easier to write. I hope you all enjoy it and are able to feel what I was feeling. This story was very emotional to write because I had to revisit everything that I wanted to forget. Writing about a break up was generally easy, yet I tried to make it more deep. Its really hard to write about something that hurt you so badly, but I knew that I wanted to write a personal story. Overall I was satisfied with how my story turned out. Those of you have gone through bad relationships or breakups, I hope you relate to this.

"That in which does not kill you, only makes you stronger".

-Abbey

            “Do you trust me?”, she asked with the deepest sincerity and softness. However, she had asked this question a dozen times before. The answer that slipped out of his mouth each time remained the same. Inside she really knew that it was a lie, a lie that pierced her heart, tore it open, deteriorated her well being, and destroyed her precious image of love. Each time that she saw him the feeling of a broken heart faded. Just the touch of his face gently brushing against hers made it all vanish. Words that he had written her that she read each night kept her in his life. All of the nights out to eat, the gifts, the flowers, his family, and the constant reminder that she was loved by him was enough. Nights she cried herself to sleep, all of the apologies she had made, all of the words she had held in, were hidden because she was loved by him. Letting go was not an option.

            The repetitive arguments over the same reason haunted her. They were glued to her brain, no matter how hard she tried to forget them. While the teardrops flowed from her face, she thought that this time would be the last. With teardrops cascading down her pink cheeks, each tear following the path of those before, the recognition of her remorse swallowed her already bleeding heart whole. There she stood. Alone, consumed with regret and blame, a self-deprecating weight crushing the entirety of her body and soul. “Why do you keep doing this to me..”, she barely choked the words out of her mouth. “Doesn’t this kill you to watch the girl you love hurt so badly, cry so hard because of you..?” The broken record tried to belt out the sound it should display, but instead a wretched noise was repeated. She wanted him to cry-to cry just like she had so many times before, she wanted him to feel what this feels like, to be hurt so unbearably bad by the one person you love more than anything, to see that miraculous spark fade and then brighten, fade and then brighten, to have your emotions be warped and swirl throughout a pool of confusion, to suddenly feel the prismatic colors of passion consume your body but then it freezes the moment your tears begin to trickle ever so slowly down the other persons face. However, it did not matter. The cement walls in which his emotions were hidden, could not be broken with her tears and pleas’. In another room, the girl knew that her parents could feel the pain she felt. Seeping through the walls, words of hurt bled out. Unexplainably embarrassed, she walked him towards the door. Just another bump in the road, she convinced herself.

            When he picked her up he let her know how beautiful she looked, how stunning and irreplaceable she was. She wore a white t-shirt and the jeans he had gotten her for her birthday. Weeks before, the girl had warned him that if he looses her once he will not get her back. It stung him, those words that he knew she was capable of saying.

Returning back to reality, she still had him. That handsome, generous, loving, naïve, stupid boy, was still hers.  As he pushed open her front door and led her down a brick sidewalk, he could only see the flutter of her angelic qualities before him; his girlfriend, looking unbreakable and sweet, continued to follow him hand in hand.  Affectionate, passionate soft kisses traced across her lips, gentle hands caressed her body, beautiful eyes that glowed in the dim lighting, entranced her. The love that she felt was still indescribable. The love they shared and displayed was inevitable to all who had seen them. They looked perfect on the outside, but on the inside one person was dying. On the way home, sheepish words ever so quietly came from her mouth. She didn’t want to lie to him and pretend like a certain guy didn’t ever hit on her. One conversation set him off into a whirlwind of anger. All the while he was tangled in his own frustration, ignoring her, leaving her absolutely clueless, she cried. She cried until she could not open her eyes any longer. She cried until the never ending waterfall stopped flowing.

“I have had enough. I am so sick and tired of you controlling my god damn life. You are so ignorant to every single thing you have done to me. You..you..you have pushed me completely off of the edge. I’m torn..inside...because of you; part of me wants to stay with you and the other half cant stand you any longer. You’re killing me.” The endless ranting continued, while her fragile soul could not be controlled. Madness from within her heart compelled her, engulfed her sacred soul, and yet relieved her. “A problem is undeniable when the bad outweighs the good. No words could ever explain what I feel about our relationship anymore and how fucking hurt I am. I will never be able to comprehend how you can stare the girl you love in the face and tell her lies, while inside she is dead. Her heart, her mind.. is gone.” She was trembling; terrified of what was going to come. The young man slipped letters she composed to him out of his pocket and gave them to her. She looked at him with eyes that said it all. He could not do anything else to keep her locked in his prison.

“Leave”.

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