A slow red sphere, pulsating with light and energy, rose across the hazy horizon; feeding the once dark and bleak island with colours, sound, and life. It was like an artist’s canvass slowly coming to life, as splashed the surface with colours and hues, and carefully put together his masterpiece. The island suddenly lit up as if someone had suddenly twisted the brightness knob on a television set, and flicked on the volume. The dark and mysterious trees and plants suddenly lit up with radiant joy, and I saw the finer detail of my surroundings in the brightness of the morning sun. As I got up I saw a multitude of ants scurrying about on the dark gnarled root, I gazed deeper into the ants world, staring in fascination at the various dark …show more content…
I gazed up at the mountain now drenched in light red and squinted, trying to keep my eyes open, as the bright sharp light burnt into my eyes. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I finally closed them unable to the pain any longer; I wiped my watery eyes and thought where Samneric’s fire was? There was a rumble inside me, and I looked hopefully at the jungle wondering if I could find Samneric’s fire as well as something to eat. In the morning light the jungle seemed like an old and tattered rug chewed to bits by moths, yet despite this the jungle and the whole island was beautiful shining in the sun’s warmth. I kept on walking as the jungle beckoned me calling me with its beauty. As I passed between the trees, the canopy overhead plunged me into velvet darkness. The only source of light was from the small gaps in the shell of overlapping leaves, where the sun glistened through. Moss and lichen covered the ground in abundance, thriving in this humid atmosphere, and feeding on the eerie green light that managed to penetrate through the ceiling of emerald leaves. The strange green shade and the various knotted pillars made it impossible to see for great distances or to walk about freely. I angrily scratched at my hand and shirt, which by now were riddled with tiny seeds and pods, from the various plants relying on my shirt for pollination. Absent-mindly I tugged on a multitude of scratches, which by now were
“Hey Sherbert! You hair is standing up!” It was true. Everyone’s hair on the island stood up and a strange buzzing filled the air. All became quiet, but the buzzing stayed burning in their ears. People started screaming, and the little girl fell to the ground. Everything caught flame and the mother huddled her babies on the ground in the corner of the town square. Buildings crumbled, and the ground shook. There was a blinding light, and then a beautiful forest faded into view on Roanoke island. A small and slightly confused dog stood in the middle of a daisy patch. It watched a hand sink into the earth, burning, and right where it disappeared, a daisy sprouted. The dog looked around, and there were no homes, no sidewalks, no babies, no treats. There were just beautiful trees, birds, grasses, and ponds.
“The Electric Ant” is a science fiction short story written by Philip K. Dick and published in 1969. In this setting, the story takes place in a distant alternative universe. Mankind’s identity and freedom are being questioned in this futuristic society. Indeed, the plot explores the identity of a protagonist who has been disconnected from reality after an accident, by being transformed into an organic robot. A being that is no longer human despite having the skin, the flesh and the physical body of a man. The story focuses on the shift of reality perceived by an organic robot. Nevertheless, it brings us a closer look at how the perspective of reality is approached from the point of view of a sub-social class. As the story goes on, the protagonist becomes more and more obsessed with his individuality and true freedom. The plot emphasis on the development of the main character’s identity throughout the story.
Response: The setting in this paragraph is peaceful and mystifying. The words used to illustrate how the darkness fell over the jungle (poured, dim, strange) allows the reader to visualize it happening calmly, while still keeping a mysterious air to it. The comparison to the sea further highlights the mystery, as the sea to this day is still mostly unexplored and unknown. Comparing this to the jungle makes
5. Ralph wants to give up his chief status because he has had enough of the crazy talk of the beast, ghosts, and nobody wanting to listen to him.
In 2012, 16259 people in the United States were murdered and another 1.8 million people were sent to the hospital due to assault. Humans resorting to violence and harming others is a daily occurrence, but why? Is it in our nature, are we instinctively violent, and why is it that these acts are not only happening in the United States but worldwide. Although the average person does not leave their home planning on harming somebody that day, under the right circumstances almost every single person in this world will commit an act of violence. Sometimes these acts are justified, such as when we are trying to protect ourselves or a loved one, but what about the smaller acts that we all do every day.
She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.
We Are the Ants, by Shaun David Hutchinson, plunges readers into the world of Henry Denton, a teenager plagued by a hideous reputation as “Space Boy” due to continued alien abductions. Henry, an average teen except for this one fact, endures name-calling, bullying, a physical attack and more, as he tries to survive in the daily grind at Calypso High School.
The book, The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair had a major impact on the way the world saw the American Meat Packing Industry. While Upton Sinclair originally intended to appeal to the public’s heart concerning the conditions and the treatment of workers, it was obvious that the book had more of an impact on the meat industry. The public was outraged by the stories of waste meat being canned as wholesome meat, workers falling into vats and being processed as lard, and dead animals being processed when the inspectors weren’t looking. Upton was quoted in saying, “I aimed at the public’s heart, and by accident I hit it in the stomach” (Kantor 1976). The impact that this fictitious novel had, can still be seen today. After the outrage of hearing
Mark stood outside the town’s gate, he looked back and knew he might not return. Mark turned, and he stepped on the rocky ground and began his journey not knowing what lay in store for him. The howling wind picked up, Mark walked in cold submission. He looked for shelter and he soon spotted a large forest line which looked dense and thick. Night was arising and the
My throat had grown dry and each passing breath sent a blaze through me. The further I bolted into the forest, the more mystical and spellbinding it became. Huge roots painted a maze on the ground and the flora became thick and lush, forming an arch above my head. The forest reeked of age. The composting, organic fragrance rose up in
The sound of the chirping birds awoke me. The smell of the grassy-smelling rain tickled my nose as I pried my heavy eyes open, tired from yesterday’s long day of adventuring. I squirmed out of my cozy sleeping bag, being gentle on my sore back after sleeping on the diamond-hard rock last night. I crawled out of my little compact tent as my stomach growled of hunger. I looked out to the foggy distance where the egg yolk-like sun was rising from behind the bumpy, tree-filled mountains. I gathered my hiking essentials and munched on a protein bar as I started exploring on the wet, slippery trail. Suddenly, I heard a footstep behind me. I turned around, but nothing in particular was there. I kept strolling along, observing the many species wandering
The fire hissed menacingly in the dark as I shivered uncontrollably, beads of sweat trickling gently down from my forehand. The knife felt frosty in my grip, it’s blade reflecting the moon in the dusky, night air, the soft glow gleaming in the darkness. As I glanced above, I saw four wooden huts lined with rows full of butchered meat, blood still leaking down, seeping into the wood panels. A campfire crackled somewhere in the distance behind the wooden shacks, beyond the view of the pit. The big, burly men resembled jagged mountain cliffs with their heavy pelts hanging loosely over their shoulders, whose cold black eyes resembled ten thousand winters. Eyes similar to vultures, devoid of any pity. I avoided their gaze, afraid of what they might do. The hum of the the villagers grow louder, dirt sodden and weary from their daily work, filling the gaps in the circle of the hulking men. Some whispering, some without any definable expression. I strained, catching
A burning sensation reverberated throughout my body, creeping up my spine and clenching the insides of my body. I tried twisting out of the bush but it was no use. The branches around me had engulfed me, leaving me to dry out in the scorching sunlight. Several months being stuck in the golden meadows under a suffocating sky of perfect blue was smothering me. The curse made me weak, I lost consciousness many times and having only one leg made from wood was useless. I closed my heavy eyelids and waited for another indistinguishable day to pass by.
In Chris Cleave’s Little Bee and Incendiary, the characters Little Bee and the unnamed narrator respectively, undergo a traumatic experience in the early stages of the books. Little Bee is confined in an immigration detention center upon her arrival in England for not having legal documents to prove her age. Meanwhile, the unnamed narrator has her life blown apart by a terrorist attack that kills her husband and four year old son. Both characters lose the hope and faith in their world and adjust to their new lives accordingly. Little Bee disguises herself physically, verbally, and legally in order to stay safe from the dangers of her new life. The narrator combats her emotional breakdown by helping to investigate the instigator behind the
Tax policy: I will need to look at certain levels of tax. If tax is