Yellow Face

Rashaun Richardson February 17, 2016 In the story, “Shooting an Elephant”, the narrator is contradictory in his feelings, by supporting one set of people, the Burmans, but serving another, the British. The reader infers that he can’t decide who to fight for because in the text the narrator explains the treatment of the Burmans by the English, but then tells the treatment of himself by the Burmans. For example, the narrator states that the treatment of the Burman prisoners were…

reflected unevenly off the walls, with no evidence of the source. It took a moment for Larah to realize the light came from the pool. She gathered up her gown and stepped to the edge of the Mirror. Her reflection greeted her. Slowly, her toes touched its face, which rippled slightly. Hesitantly, she broke the surface. Fog billowed around her in tufts and twirls. She could not see the walls of the chamber…

done with a close-up shot. When the children answer the teacher questions, shot two switches to Janet until the teacher called out her name. Janet is usually low head embodies the state of her embarrassment and unprepared. She has the explosive yellow hair, face with besmirch, also wearing the sweater looks dirty. The teacher with a steel drum walked beside Janet, let everybody vomit chewing gum. This is a still use close-up lens, but also to use mobile lens, lens move with the movement of…

back obstinately. The insulting expression on the old man’s face grew deeper. “You know nothin’, filth,” the old man said threateningly. He looked at the young woman with the air of vicious hatred. "If my son is where you say he is, it is all your fault. You’re good for nothin’. Now get away from my face, you, mindless bitch!" Flabbergasted and hurt, Curley’s wife recoiled from these words as if the old man slapped her in the face. Her lips parted as if she was going to give the old…

Twist I have always contemplated the idea of a traditional American family. Thinking about a white picket fence life with a dog, two parents, and a big house with a red door has been a way to pass the time in my less than ideal life. Why do I imagine a family outside of my own? My family is pathetic. While I dream of my family being similar to the Brady Bunch, the tragic reality is, we are nothing like a sitcom family. My only family is my drunk, druggy, prostitute mother, who is not exactly…

Lost was running. He didn’t know how long he had been running-a few minutes? An hour?-or where he was going, but he did know that tears were streaming down his face and sweat was making his arms burn. He slowed down after a few more minutes, breathing heavily-again, he didn’t know why-and found himself in front of an enormous tree. He and Found called it Sorrow Tree because it was where they would go whenever they were sad. Lost tended to go there a lot, but Found didn’t need to know that.…

“Harrowing, terrifying, broken-down, home of death…” This was the way Henry Camden spoke of the home where the morbid events of his childhood took place. It was a cool, refreshing, early August afternoon when Camden was relaxing on his front porch. He lived in a neighborhood where the sounds of laughter and play rang throughout the streets. On this particular afternoon, the neighborhood was quiet, for it was the sixty-fifth anniversary of an event known as The Harrowing Home Homicide. Charlie…

"Clean up this mess, you piece of filth”, the coarse soldier ordered her. Esther ran to do what the crude man had commanded her to do. She went into the storage and got a piece of cloth and started to clean the food he had dropped on the ground. The commander added as she was cleaning the mess, " Get me a beer as well, I'm not in a good mood after that.” I nodded and brought him the beer. The musty bitter odour of the beer pierced her nose as she handed the foul substance to him. But he was…

A dull ache in his ribs woke Tom from a restless sleep. As his mind became fully conscious, the pain steadily intensified and a low moan escaped from between his lips. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared around the room, his face a mask of confusion. For a moment, he had no memory of where he was, but everything soon became clear when his gaze settled on Booker. The dark-haired officer sat cross-legged on his bed reading a comic book. It was a strange sight to wake up to, and blinking…

Life has a way of continuing, of moving on without you, if you let it. Time keeps ticking, the earth keeps spinning and somehow, you keep breathing. Even when the world falls around you and buries you, you still breathe. Eventually, you get back up or face the alternative. Once upon a time, I wanted the alternative, but it wasn’t meant to be. And now I knew why. She was beautiful. Simply beautiful, as if that one single word could even come close to describing what I felt when I looked at her.…