Rocking chair

By Saturday afternoon, the eighty-seven residents of the rural southern town of Wrongberight have suffered through four days of intense intermittent rainstorms. And to add to their misery another storm approaches the town from the northeast. Now, Clemmy Sue Jarvis since birth has lived here and has a simple philosophy concerning weather. As long as the almighty man upstairs allows her to draw a breath, she will enjoy life, regardless of the weather. At four o’clock, she lifts her petite frame into

room and tried to turn on the television, but I couldn’t find it. I searched frantically. Then it hit me I screamed, at the top of my lungs, “Aima”. She screamed, “what.” “Where is the remote,” I stated. “Under the Rocking chair!” she exclaimed. I ran over to the little rocking chair and sure enough there it

full of my mind. I looked around to see Ollie, and when I did, I gave em’ my sweetest smile I could muster up for em’. Soon enough, the creaking of a rocking chair caught all of our attention, and we turned to look in the direction where Ol Ralph’s rocking chair was. Ol Ralph spoke, while he was rocking back in forth that old, creaky, rocking chair, of his, “Ahem, if

Symbolism, Imagery, and Theme in The Road Not Taken   The Road Not Taken is told by one person - there is no designation as to sex, station in life or age.  This person has come to a crossroads in their life and has two options to choose from.  The place in this poem is a fork in a path in a forest, and time is not specified though it could happen today, so it would be considered a contemporary piece.  The premise of the poem is that the subject faces and then makes a life

impossibly blue sky was clear of any evidence that clouds had trailed that same sky. Lillian gazed straight ahead on a wooden rocking chair, every so often rocking it backward and letting it swing her forward again, the motion providing her some comfort. Some. “Lillian, do you want some coffee?” her mother inquired from inside the house. Lillian stopped her rocking chair mid swing. “I…

I chose to design my classroom layout for twenty-four fourth graders. When designing my class, I reminded myself that I may have students in my class with special needs. For this reason, my classroom is designed so that anyone can get to one point to another without any problems. The rows between all the clusters of desks are wide, and there is a pathway around the whole room that can be used to go to different parts of my room. There is also a table at the back of the room that students with handicap

around this time exactly. The mail box is right in front of her house so I walked over to get my mail and she was sitting there in a rocking chair smiling. She greeted me and introduced herself. It was a quick hi and bye. I remember how cold it was that night I met her, I was shivering

The best thing about composing short story is the ability on impact others through the ideas being insert into it. As for Susan Glaspell, a writer that is not uncommon among the American literature history, at the same time was also one of the American Plitzer Prize winning playwritght, actress, and novelist; writing is considered to be one her passion in life. From those passion, she portrayed them through many novels, plays, and short stories. In my view, ‘Triffles’ is one of the famous plays that

In Sister Carrie, Dreiser uses very detailed descriptions of characters and their appearance. These are not empty descriptions, each description of the clothes is so convincing that it plays with the readers’ senses allowing them to visualize a dynamic cinematic picture (Stankovic 79). For example, Carrie’s total outfit consisted of a small trunk, a cheap imitation alligator-skin satchel, a small lunch in a paper box, and a yellow leather snap purse, containing her ticket, a scrap piece of paper

Dear Merrys:- I want to tell you another story about a blizzard that struck my family’s house when I was a young girl. “Louisa, come look! Hurry! It’s snowing!” cried Anna, my sister I set my doll down gently on the floor, for I don’t want to hurt her, and I ran over to my sister who was peering out the frost-covered window. I rubbed my sleeve over the pains to try to get a better look at the falling snow. I saw the beautiful flakes falling softly through the sky. Woosh. The wind blew the snow