Perfect Wife
The husband was happy. His wife was perfect in every way imaginable. Often times speaking to the neighbors about such things, the husband would tell tales of the adventures the two of them went on. The wife appeared happy as well. Her face set in a permanent smile alluded to the aura of happiness that floated through the house. But the neighbors never saw this perfect wife the husband spoke of. The husband would smile at them when they asked, simply telling them that his wife prefered to stay inside and bake. This response satisfied the neighbors and they soon forgot to even question the husband when he would go out to the store, and his wife would not be at his side. The smile never leaving his face, the husband became the life of the street. Waving to everyone, the husband had a fire of friendliness amongst himself and the neighbors. Many more weeks passed until, one day, the husband's closest neighbor invited herself in to deliver a homemade pan of tarts. Crashing to the ground, the pan of delicious sweets spread across the floor as the neighbor saw the husband and wife sitting in the kitchen reading the paper together. The husband glanced at his wife, who had paper thin skin stretched over a lifeless carcass, then glanced back at the neighbor before stating “you will have to excuse my wife she has been pale as of late.” I mimicked the Edgar Allen Poe’s style by doing many things. One of the biggest things I did was varying my sentence structure. For example I have a sentence that is short, “ The husband was happy”, then I have a participle phrase, “ Waving to everyone, the husband had a fire of friendliness amongst himself and the neighbors. “ This various use of sentence structure is very common in Poe’s writing so I tried to mimic that. The type of characters poe uses are characters that seem perfect on the outside but also have very dark secrets. I feel like with how I made the husband seem so perfect to the neighbours then made him have this secret that his wife was dead fit his style very well. I met the genre of Poe but going into a horror genre. All of his stories are very weird and disturbing and I tried to channel that by foreshadowing things and giving the end a very creepy conclusion. I think that by channeling the right genre so well was what made my story very similar to his. Poe tends to have very cliffhanger endings. He tends to reveal a very important detail at the end without fully explaining/giving a backstory to what happened. I tried copying this by having the husband act very normal about his wife being dead and not give any explanation. The lack of dialogue in the story is something I really tried to do. Poe will have very little to no dialogue so I really tried to stick to that to make it more realistic. The type of setting is very normal. It is set in an older time and has a very normal and perfect family feel to all of his stories. His perfect setting is a lot of times what adds a layer of creepiness to his stories.
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The Feeling Of Loss I miss you I miss your personality Your personality was gentle That gentleness is rare to find I miss you I miss your soft brown nose Your fur was always downy That fur is rare to find I miss you I miss your heartbeat Your heartbeat was steady and strong That strength is hard to find I miss you I miss your eyes Your eyes were always kind That kindness is hard to find The Song of the Sea The sea sings a sad song Singing a simple verse The sea struggles to continue As the salty sea foam sucks the sea Into the sleazy sail What I Miss About You My heart was beating fast When you were here Without you my heart beats last I wish I had kept you the rest of the year Without your strong frame My life has lost purpose I wish you hadn’t went lame Because now I feel worthless Empty Room An empty room I wonder when I will find my voice. I see the people talking and I want to reply. I am an empty room I pretend that I willingly choose my silence. I feel trapped in a deafening cage. I touch the bars and feel the cold. I worry that they will never hear me. I cry when I open my mouth but no sound comes out. I am an empty room I understand that I will never share my feelings. I say nothing. I dream of telling people how I feel. I try to gather my words. I hope they understand. I am an empty room. Limeirck: What's Wrong With A Horse There once was a horse named Chance, Who said, ‘ I am ugly at a glance’ Two glances and you will see How right that is she You look away without romance Ballad: The Soldier The soldier was noble, As he helped children to their homes, Showing them the way He didn’t leave them out to roam The Day You Never Wish to See ( First Person )
Standing there under the trees in the field, my best friend was on the ground hugging the neck of her horse. The cries coming from her made it all the more real that her friend was gone.I wanted to help her, but all I could think of was the facts. He had a bone cyst, his leg broke and the pain caused his blood pressure to rise and his heart to fail. It sounds so simple, right ? It isn’t, it’s not just a broken leg and a heart attack. It is watching your best friend break down and question everything around her. It’s watching your best friend take a piece of her favorites horse's tail before he is buried. It’s watching your best friend realizing that her horse is never going to get up from where he is at. Standing there with her I silently cried while stroking the soft hair of his nose. The time slowed to a stop when we said our goodbyes. The moments dragged by before we left. When we got up to leave I noticed how peaceful it was. The ground was shaded by gold and red leaves getting ready to fall. A gentle breeze rustled the grass at our feet as we climbed back into the car and drove away from the field. I checked on my friend and wished to tell her that it would be okay, but I knew better than to lie. Sad Day For All ( Third person Omniscient ) A shadow fell across the pasture as the sun slid over the sky. Orange and red leaves littered the ground in one small spot. There was only one tree losing leaves that day. The loss of leaves seemed to fit perfectly with what else was lost. A beloved horse had fallen and laid under this tree while two girls and a woman stood beside his body. The tallest of the girls was kneeling on the ground next to his neck. The other girl stood slightly behind her watching with water in her eyes. Sitting next to the horse the girl sobbed over all the plans she had for him. She was going to build a barn and let him grow old in it. He should not have passed away this soon she thought. The plans were all shattered in that moment, the pieces floated passed in blurred images of promising times that would never happen. The woman who stood farther away from the girls looked on with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her daughter had lost the most important thing in the world to her and she had no control over it. Fate had demolished what she had promised her daughter. When they all piled in the truck the tears had eased and a sense of calm washed over them. Their beloved pet lay peacefully in a beautiful field under a fall breeze. Tori Shepherd
Oblivion The ticking sound was driving him crazy. It came at random times of the day and he was the only one to hear it. Scratching at his old tattered clothes, the wind whipped back his ripped jeans. Staggering towards the edge he dropped the last bottle of bourbon he had. Screaming into the void of his ruined life he climbed up on top of the ledge of the building. Looking down at the busy night street he thought about his life. Thinking about how much he had tried to keep his life together. Going from being an inner city delinquent to cleaning up his act and getting into a law school he has fought to make things better. He cursed and cursed at himself for what he had done but he knew it was his own fault. He was the only one to blame for this. Not realizing how stressful being a lawyer was he had turned to going to the bar a few nights a week as a way to have fun and let loose. Those few nights a few led to every night., Mmanaging to keep it under control for a few months, he kept his job. When he started showing up to work drunk, his boss finally fired him. Not having a job anymore he lost his house, his friends, and any contact with anyone besides the other bar flies that shared his addiction. The ticking was back again. He stumbled and barely caught himself. It never went away, it only just came back into focus. He thought about how rich he had been. He was almost married; he thought he would have been a good husband. Trying to blame the bartenders and the store clerks for what had happened stopped working when he started stealing the booze. He had no one to blame now. Laughing he looked at the moon and imagined that it was his spotlight. This was his moment. The gritty ledge was dirty with years of wear, just like his life. But the air was clean. He jumped into oblivion. |
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