4/1 Plot Ex 6 PP 274-5

A lie that got out of hand.

It was such a stupid thing to lie about. Really, who would have thought that one little fib would grow into such a huge incident. You see it all started last summer. Halley decided that she wanted to see and help the world and what better way to do that than missionary work, and she could get some footage for her documentary if she was persuasive. The problem was that most of the applications wanted you to speak a foreign language. The better you were at the language the more preference your application got in the agency. So, she checked “fluent” in Spanish, instead of “I speak it a little”. How was she to know that they would make her a group leader in charge of relations with the community leaders? All she wanted to do was help people and travel and now the entire group was in trouble. Big trouble. Halley confused the word for record “rodar” with the one for shoot, like a gun “disparar”. Leading the community to think the group was coming to harm the locals. Now they were all sitting in a circle surrounded by gunmen waiting for the consulate to show up. All because she checked the box marked ‘fluent”.

2/24 Filtering pp 66 Ex. 3

The storm was a violent fight for superiority. Nature versus Man. Wind and rain versus dirt and fire. The wind raged against the buildings, ripping the roofs off homes and shelters. The rain pummeled the ground, bridges giving way to the floods. Electrical lines were pulled to the ground starting fires in the grass that was seeing rain for the first time in weeks. The people raced for shelter, a basement, a ditch, a brick building that had been designated safe for this purpose. Some never made it, their vehicles picked up and tossed around like a feather in a pillow fight. Those who did find a safe haven huddled together trying to find comfort in those around them, and desperately hoping their loved ones have made it as well.

When the wind dies down and the rain slows to a drizzle the sirens sound the all clear and people try to make it to their homes, or what is left of their homes. It is crazy how the tornado seemed to pick and choose which buildings and trees to decimate. One house standing tall and unharmed, while the next is in ruins. The neighbor’s car is in the tree down the block. A bicycle somehow found its way on to the roof.

                      There was no doubt who the winner was in this war. Nature always wins.

“The Flowers” and “A Visit of Charity”

Both “The Flowers” and “A Visit of Charity” use flowers as a prop. In “The Flowers” they are representative of youth and innocence. The girl is picking flowers to make a bouquet. She is happily walking around trying to make something pretty and does not realize that there is something dark on the horizon. In “A Visit of Charity” the flowers have two very different meanings. To the old women in the nursing home they represent hope and beauty. They give them something pretty to look at. But to the girl they are just part of the assignment. A way to get extra credit. In both stories the girls experience something that changes them. The discovery of a body kills the innocence of the girl gathering flowers. The fear and overwhelming uncomfortableness the girl feels at the nursing home strips some of her innocence as well. She does not see the women in their best light. This may be, in part, because the adults did not prepare her enough for what she was about to do.

“Binocular Vision” & "Mud"

“Binocular Vision” is written from the point of view of a child living next door to the object of his scrutiny. We do not get to see everything that is going on in the house next door, just what the child sees looking into various windows. We do not get to know more about the residents than what the child observes and assumes. We find out at the end that looks can be deceiving and that the child’s assumptions were incorrect. He assumed that the couple was contentedly married and the man went to work every day while the woman took care of the house. But, he was wrong. They were not a couple but mother and son and they were not both content. The man was depressed enough to commit suicide in the garage. There is very little dialogue in the story.

“Mud” is written from the point of view of a widower. He sees the ghosts or bodies or spirits of those he has lost. We, the readers, do not get a clear understanding of why he is seeing them now. He just sees his father and grandmother doing what they did all the time when they were alive. She was in the kitchen and he was in the living room watching television. He wants to talk to them and to hug them, but he has an important meeting to go to. He has the most difficulty not going to see his wife when he hears her voice. This story unlike the previous one is moved by the dialogue. We don’t get a complete sense of what the people were like before death, we only see his interpretation of them after death. Which is similar to “Binocular Vision” because we are only seeing what the main character saw in his family members.

"Eleven" & "Bullet in the Brain"

The story “Eleven” describes a young girl on her eleventh birthday and how horrible that day was for her. I love idea that you are not just one age, but all of the ages that you have experienced before that too. There are days that I really do not feel the age that I am, but much younger. The characterization of the teacher in the story is one that I can really relate to. I have had a teacher like that. One who automatically assumes that the first person to speak is telling the truth and you cannot change her mind. The dialogue is also relatable because sometimes adults refuse to listen to children because they don’t feel that the children can have anything of interest to say. It is extremely frustrating. The main character does not get the chance to say much out loud. Mostly we see her inner monologue.

In contrast the main character in “Bullet in the Brain” speaks quite a bit. He cannot seem to help himself. He keeps insulting the dialogue of the men with guns. He is inappropriately amused by the situation that he is in and they are paying too much attention to what he is saying. While the little girl in the first story only has to wear and ugly sweater for a while on her birthday, which is admittedly humiliating, Anders winds up dead because of his inability to stop his inner critic from coming out.

“St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves” & "Currents"

“St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves” begins with the girls living in nature. They’re pulled into a school setting that is completely unlike anything they are accustomed to. They are changed by the school and have new ways thrust upon them purposefully by people who think their ways were wrong. The girls progress through the stages of change. We learn quite a bit about their personalities before and after the changes.

In “Currents” the plot moves backwards. We start with the children being changed, but then we find out the circumstances that changed them. Both play on nature. One group is changed by people forcing their will on the children, the other is changed by nature’s effect on people. We don’t get a lot of information about the characters but we find out the circumstances that change the. 

4/4 Fictional Place pp. 191-2 Exercise 4

Christmas

The tree is covered in bright lights, garland, bulbs and homemade decorations. The house is filled with people of all ages. There are over thirty people in the tiny house and it is snowing outside. How is there enough oxygen for everyone? Is there enough oxygen for everyone? Ana really wasn’t convinced.

“Auntie, Auntie, Willow is picking on me. She took my new doll and won’t give it back. Help me!” They walk towards the basement door but were stopped before they could start down the steps.

“Hey, Grandma wants you to help set the table” Her cousin tried to hand her the plates.

“I’ll be right back, I have to deal with a kid situation.” She started down.

“Hurry up, Ana! Everyone is hungry!”

Ana made it down the stairs this time and started down the hall.

“Hey,” one of Ana’s aunts stuck her head out of the freezer room, “can you take this up?” She was holding out bags of frozen corn.

“Sure, just a minute.” Ana set the corn on the stairs to grab as she went up.

They finally made it to the play room. “Willow, give your cousin her doll back. You would not like it if she took one of the toys Santa gave you.”

“I wouldn’t care.” Willow was a bit snotty sometimes.

“I’m serious. Give her back the doll. Right now! You don’t want me to get your parents involved in this. And, we haven’t opened gifts here yet. I might take mine back until you learn to ask before you take.”

“FINE! It isn’t a very good toy anyway!” Willow dropped the doll on the ground and started to walk away.

“Hold it, Willow. Pick it up and hand it to her nicely. You know better.”

She grumbled, but followed directions.

Ana patted her niece on the head and started up the stairs, grabbing the corn on the way up. As she reached the kitchen, she passed off the corn to another aunt and started setting the table. Just as she got everything set out…

A head popped through the door. “Ana, we are out of propane for the heater, I need your car to go get more from my house.” Her brother’s car was blocked in.

“Alright, I’ll get the keys.” She made her way to the bedroom and just as she found the keys, one of the babies woke up and started screaming. She picked up the infant and carried him out with her, tossing the keys as she tried to stop the screaming. Someone handed her a diaper bag. There was nowhere to change the diaper in here. 

The only good thing about carrying a screaming, smelly kid was no one stopped to ask you for anything. She made her way upstairs, the forbidden area to most. But she knew Grandma would understand. She set the baby on the bed and began to change him. After she was done Ana sat in the old rocking chair and sang the little one to sleep, happy to finally escape the craziness for a bit.

2/17 Characterization pp. 154-5 Exercise 1

Not my usual type of story.

Wrong place, wrong time, Ella could not think of a situation that was better described by that over used phrase. All she wanted in life was to fall in love, start a family and run her flower shop. She had always had an affinity for flowers, growing them, arranging them, deciding which scents worked best with each other. On this particular day she was dropping off a bunch of arrangements for a dinner at a hotel. She got all of the flowers unloaded and the center places on the tables. Ella got into the van and drove away. Heading back to the shop to start the flowers for the wedding on Friday. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him.

He was at least six feet tall and looked like he could tip a bull. But even more concerning was the gun pointing at her.

“Drive,” That was all he said. It came out more as a growl rather than a word.

Ella had no choice. She drove.

“Where do you want me to drive to?” She didn’t want to do anything to endanger herself or anyone else.

“Just keep driving. I don’t give a damn where you go.” She was a bit thrown off. He didn’t seem to have a plan in place, which made him even more dangerous.

She kept driving, looking behind her regularly to see if he was still holding that gun, he was. After about fifteen he finally spoke again. “Get us out of the city. How much gas do you have in this tank?”

“I have about half a tank. We should be able to drive a couple of hundred miles.” Ella knew her voice was shaking, but what did she expect, she was driving a lunatic around.

“Good, that’s good. Hopefully, by the time we get that far they will be off on a wild goose trace.” He looked relieved.

“Um…who?” She hoped that if she kept him calm and talking she would make it out of here alive.

“The bastards that tried to double cross me. Did the idiots really think I wouldn’t notice the cops surrounding the place. Somebody tipped them off.” He was starting to get worked up, that was definitely not the plan. She needed to find a different tact.

“Are you hurt? There is a first aid kit back there. I tend to nick myself a lot with my shears and on the rose thorns. It is in the cupboard to your left on the middle shelf.” There, that should not bring on more anger, at least not towards her.

“Thanks,” he opened the cupboard and pulled out the kit. As he shrugged out of this black leather jacket he let out a groan and flinched. There was blood, a lot of blood. She kept looking behind her to check on what he was doing. He began to clean it up with some of the clothes in the back of the van. Then he took the towel from the kit and tied it tightly around the wound. It should stop the bleeding.

By this time, they were outside of the city and about fifty miles from anywhere with help. “We are going to need fuel soon and I still have no idea where we are going. Now I am more than okay with driving as long as you want me to, as long as you don’t shoot me, but I would like to know where I am going.”

“Where are we now?” He looked around, trying to get his bearings.

“We are fifty miles from Glenville.”

“What is Glenville?”

“It is a tiny town about a hundred miles from the city. There is nothing but a few houses and a gas station.”

“Perfect, pull in and fill the tank. I will give you more instructions then.”

She was nothing if not good at following directions. Especially when her life was on the line.

He had her pull over near a power plant on the side of the road. He forced her to get out first and followed her behind a small shed. He looked at her, “I’m sorry.”

Those were the last words she ever heard.