Personal Narrative: A Symbolized Death
98 Words1 Pages
I 'm nobody. Always have been, always will be. Everyone that knew me: friends, family, foes... all dead. I 'm lost, alive for nothing. I 'm liable, though who knew flowers contained that power: the power to kill. I 'd picked up that tempting, black rose with thorns of daggers. It hadn 't bothered me until now, but roses cannot grow black! I 'd thought it was amazing, turns out, it symbolised death. I 've no purpose now. I 'm useless anyway: couldn 't even resist the temptation. And there, within my reach, the gun.
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I begin with a sunset, as in the poem the sunset is a metaphor for death. I have myself waking up and realizing it was dark as though I am realizing I am close to death. I refuse to accept this getting up and turning on the light. The light is turned off several times and I have to fight to keep it on and keep living. When it stays on l look for what is turning it off I am subsequently chased down the stairs by an ambiguous being or force.
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A Ghostly Spark Introduction (reveal): Native American culture has always been an interest of mine. Since my beginning with the Boy Scouts of America on my path to Eagle Scout, I have come closer to the dense but often forgotten history of the First Nation people of America. Upon joining the Order of the Arrow, the BSA’s honor society centered around Native American virtues and beliefs, I have continued to take it upon myself to learn more about the long forgotten Native history. While I knew about the general struggles the Native Americans faced as “white man” invaded the unharnessed Western frontier, I had not learned about the specific catalyzing incidents that caused such conflict and suffered between these two cultures. While searching through topics like native music and combat, I knew I needed an event that sparked the rift between these two types of people, growing U.S. government and early
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This morning was hell. The will to lift myself from my friend’s couch waned exponentially and spoiled my insides, costing me my first class of the day. Consciousness devolved into a haunted, sleepless void. I want to die. How my friends convinced me to get up that day, I don’t know, but every aspect of my surroundings was plagued with a layer of desaturation; my gut, caked with viscous contempt; my wrist, decorated with gnarled, carmine stripes.
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(Hawthorne 46). By stating this, Hawthorne believes that the roses are delicate, compared to the criminals, who he sees as condemned. The bright gems of roses are contrasted with the doomed criminals. Moments later, Hawthorne hands you a rose and once again contrasts the balance of good and evil, when he states, "It may serve, let us hope, to symbolize some sweet moral blossom that may be found along the track, or relieve the darkening close of a tale of human frailty and sorrow" (Hawthorne 46). By using the words sweet and blossom and juxtaposing them with the words darkening and sorrow, Hawthorne is saying that this story will be like a rose.
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The DEATH of A Tribe An arrow whizzed past my head and hit my adobe I turned around and saw Comanche war chief standing there getting ready to shoot another arrow, I ran quickly to find my family. When I got there they had already scalped both of my children I grabbed my bow which hadn’t been used in an eternity from the house and left. My wife wasn’t in the adobe so I ran to look for her I saw a glimpse of her being dragged to the Comanche war chief I quickly grabbed an arrow out of one of my fallen brethren and released an arrow at the war chief I hit him in the thigh and the man dragging my wife away ran at me with a shield with countless numbers of scalps on it I tried to run but was hit in my back, when I woke I was in a puddle of my own blood possession less and without friends. I tried to get up but to no avail, I had an arrow in my back and the ground around me was wet I could just give up and lay here for the rest of my life or I could try to get up and hunt down that Comanche tribe that raided my village.
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Do you ever ask yourself about things pertaining to existence and salvation? Questions like: what is life’s purpose and meaning? What is truth, and what is falsehood? Sometimes the answers to these questions take a lifetime here on earth to be revealed, other times they are found quickly and for some people they go unanswered. However, the solutions are not always the same.
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I exhaled a puff of smoke at the same time as I pulled the gun out. I stared intensely at the contraption, wondering how many lives it had cut short in its existence. My hands were going numb, as if they realized what they were holding. “Today 's the day. ” I can 't overthink this.
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