Araby: Character Journal

I can’t believe I traveled all the way to Araby and did not find anything for Mangam’s sister. This was my one chance to talk to her and I am so upset I cannot bring her back anything. I can’t imagine what her face will look like when I tell her that I didn’t get anything at the bazaar. I wonder how I can make it up to her when I have barely spoken to her. Maybe I will buy her some things in town and tell her they are from the bazaar. Or maybe I will go to Araby another day and she will be able to go with me.

            However, I know my morning routine will continue. I will wait by my winding hiding behind the blinds for her to come out of her house. Right when she walks out of her door I will quickly leave my house to follow her. Just seeing her every morning makes my day. Everyday she is more and more pretty and I wish she would feel the same way about me that I do about her. Every morning I do the same thing but I keep my distance. I wish I could get the strength to talk to her. 

            I remember when all the children on my block would play on the street. We would play for hours weather it was raining or snowing. We would play until Mangan’s sister would come out and tell Mangan dinner was ready. She always looked so beautiful when she came out with her dresses ad her long hair swaying back and forth. Sometimes Mangan would tease her before listening to what she said. That annoyed me because she was so nice and I don’t know why he would bother such a girl. Some days I wanted so much to join Mangan and his family for dinner just so I could spend time with her. Hopefully one day we will be friends. 

A Rose for Emily Poem

Abandoned

Her father dead

Her lover left her alone

 

She met Homer Baron

She was rescued

They were to be married

 

She fell apart

She was once social and beautiful

Now she hides herself from the world

 

She let herself go

Her house was once neat and attractive

Now it is decayed and unkempt 

 

She had a secret

Homer Baron was dead

Did she kill him?

 

Rest in Peace Emily Grierson

She doesn’t have to hide herself and her secrets

She doesn’t have to show her face

She is now free to be alone

Rocking Horse Winner Poem

If you have money you are lucky

If you were born lucky you will have money

Is money luck?

Take him where there is luck

 

His house is not lucky

It whispers to him in the night

It says, “There must be more money.”

 

He wishes that the whispers would subside

He wishes there was luck

Take him where there is luck

 

On his rocking horse he can be free

He doesn’t need money

He can be anywhere he wants to be

On his horse the whispers are no where to be heard

On his horse he is lucky

A & P: Creative License

I walked to the back of the A and P to my car and surprisingly out of the corner of my eyes I saw the girls walking to their car as well. Coincidentally, their car was parked right next to mine and I knew this was the only chance I would ever get to talk to them. As I approached my car the girl who lead the pack whispered something to her tall friend. Not thinking much of it I said, “I’m sorry about what happened. My boss is kind of tough.” 

            The girls looked at each other. The chubby girl replied, “Did you really quit?” She looked at each of her friends, “because of what that guy said to us?”

            All three girls stared at me waiting for an answer. I tried to play it cool and simply replied, “I was just fed up with that guy. That was the last straw. He shouldn’t have said that to you guys.”

            The tall girl agreed. “Yeah, he was so rude,” she said.

            The girls came closer to me and we started talking. I began to think quitting my job was well worth it.

            “That was really brave of you to do,” the head girl said. That is the exact reaction I wanted from the girls. However, I knew I shouldn’t have done what I did.

            “Thanks.”

            “I think we are going to head back to the beach for a little. You should come,” the tall girl said. The other two girls looked at me and nodded their heads.

            “Sure!” I said with a smile. I realized that I was going to eventually regret quitting my job, but for right now it was all worth it.

Conversation With My Father: Character Journal

It makes me very sad to see my father this way. His heart disease is really taking a toll on his life ad mine. He is getting older and weaker and I don’t think a man like him can make it much longer. His attitude sometimes makes me even more upset. I want to fulfill his request for a short story but I just can’t satisfy him. My writing style is different than Chekhov and Maupassant. I like to write stories in detail and description rather than straightforward.

If I’m writing about someone I know, I also like to write it truthfully. The story about our neighbor should not end in tragedy like my father would like it to end. Yes our neighbors did face a lot of problems in their life, but they have come a long way. What started out as a tragic story ended in happiness. I can face tragedy in my life, despite what my father says, I just think that there should not be tragedy in this story when both the characters have overcome their addictions. It’s not right to write an ending to a life of people who still have a lot of life to live.

I wonder what the story would sound like if my father wrote it. Would he make up the ending to be horrific and sad? I wish that he was well enough to write it himself because I am curious to see how he would write. It is really ironic that my father and I are talking about endings both fictionally and real because I’m not sure how long my father will live.