Scott Watson
Mrs. Koch
English Honors 2
Future Intentions
As a child begins his or her education they are taught the values of individualism and the right’s they have to be who they want. As the child grows up, progresses through his education, and slowly begins to mature, they start to piece together their own wants, needs, and future. But very few children go thorough this process smoothly, especially without any support from another source. Naturally, most children draw support from their own parents who serve as mentors and give them guidance throughout most of their lives. While this process has been happening for generations, individualism is valued in the modern day more then ever. While many parents offer a helping hand in the direction of a child’s future, there are those who unknowingly and willingly pressure their child to pursue a career that they may or may not be necessarily interested in. When this happens, a child’s own wants are substituted with the Parent’s desires, canceling out the effects that the child has grown up knowing. They are no longer deciding what they want to make of their life, instead being made to do something else. To avoid this, one must ask themselves what they would like to do, and what they don’t want to do.
A career path that I would enjoy would be teaching History as a professor. Growing up, my parent provided me with books about dozens of world events and happenings. I read all that I could, and today it’s made me want to teach what I’ve learned. I feel that I would be able to teach history effectively, I’ll be able to relate with my students on their desire to learn History, and that the subject comes naturally not only for myself, but also for my family as well. My oldest brother is majoring in History, so teaching runs in the families blood.
A career path my parents have pressured to me follow is in Medical Sciences. Although my Uncle is a an ER Doctor, I don’t have any desire to learn about Medicine. I feel that I wouldn’t be able to deal with the pressure like my Uncle. If I were to make one mistake, then my patients life could be ended because of it. In contrast, History causes little pressure comparable to this. Another problem I would have with learning about Medicine is the lengthy time one must study it. My Uncle went to college for eight years, while my brother has been going for just over four. Finally, when I think of being a History Professor and being an ER Doctor, I compare the two. The sheer amount of interest I have in History completely outshines any of the benefits of being a Doctor. This alone only makes me desire learning History even more.
In conclusion, as a child it’s important to understand the importance of making one’s own decisions in life, but it’s equally important as a parent to allow your child to do so without any pressure to do something they don’t want too. When choosing a career, a person has to factor in the benefits and negatives of a career and when they find one that’s positives outweigh its negatives, then they’ve found a potential life career. Think to yourself, am I doing what I always wanted too?
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Ascension
Ascension
By S. Watson
“You will land,” the Officer pointed towards various tips of the island, “here, here, here, and here.” Those that were sitting and facing the Officer all shook there heads affirmatively. “Upon breaching shore, you will continue through these parts of the jungle,” he paused to point at the points before continuing, “and continue onwards to these locations. Here you will position yourselves to create observation areas. Enough supplies will be provided in your packs to last you for three days, upon which you will scout the area ahead when the soldiers hit the beach here,” moving across the projector screen, casting a shadow on the board behind him, and pointed at western shoreline of the Island. Pausing to allow the audience to understand, he droned on, explaining “but, they will not show up until the navy as properly bombarded the fortress. It’s imperative that you do not move from your location, to do so would mean cer-” Louis looked forward in a trance. When he was told that he would be taking apart in this mission, he quickly started to become nervous. Louis had been pulled away from his normal duties among his old squad, specifically for his unique understanding of the American’s code talk and served as the perfect translator and decoder of messages. He and the three other men in the room were to strategically place themselves on the Island. Along with the translators would be a small squad of sharpshooters, however, only the men that were being briefed knew the specifics of the mission. This was intended so that if the men were caught, they wouldn’t be tortured into revealing the secrets of the mission. Something inside of Louis warned him of the dangers of the upcoming mission, but his military discipline however overrode his instincts.
It was just past Midnight. The stars in the sky twinkled, the Moon was a crescent tonight, only giving a glimmer of light on the sea. Standing among the men who were take apart of the mission, Louis looked around. There was barely enough light to illuminate the flag which wove above the aircraft carrier’s bridge. On the opposite end of the football field long ship, Louis could make out the souliette of Mustangs that could take to the sky at any moment if the situation called for it. The feeling of properly being defended, Louis realized, would soon be gone. Instead of the usual armored troop transport that were used on typical insertions were not being used tonight. Instead the twilight revealed twelve foot long jet black inflatable tubes. As he continued to think about this, thoughts of weakness and danger began to pop in his head. What if they were spotted? What if a gun misfired and revealed their position while they were floating towards the surface. Louis gripped his Thompson tighter in his palms. With a quick snap of the safety lever, he insured no such event would occur. As clouds started to move by the Moon, it became much harder to make out things in the distance. With a whistle, the squads were waved towards different tubes. Taking this spots in them, every man gripped their float as secure as possibly. A sudden surge of anxiety hit Louis. Through all of his military training and years of combat experience, this was possibly the most dangerous mission yet. He trusted in his abilities and realized that he wouldn’t have been picked if his superiors hadn’t felt similar. He couldn’t fail however, the burden wouldn’t be his to bare. Louis now felt steadfast determination as the cables lowered him until the latches gripping his tube let go, and with a splash, the boat motors began to grind forward.
Far in the distance massive, dull blob formed. It was obviously the Island, but one thing Louis hadn’t accounted for was the size of the Island itself. The Island itself had a single mountain on it, the enemy which was entrench there had built a fortress out of the mountain. Nor the amount of activity on it, each minute revealing a more defined island. “Look, up there, is that a plane?
“No one said there would be planes. What is this?” two disgruntled soldiers expressed. Indeed, the briefing hadn’t revealed this. Whether to ensure the Soldiers wouldn’t back out or because they had received inaccurate reports, Louis didn’t know. With the men a few miles away from the Island, they realized that the mission was a suicide run. Horror creeped into every single man’s mind. They knew what was before them, they knew they were fodder. Each man lowered themselves, hunching forward. They grinded their teeth, bit their lips, readied their weapons. Each man waited for the second that they would be caught, the moment they would begin shooting at the enemy that wanted them dead. A sense of determination which was common among the Navy motivated them forward. Louis shifted the weight beneath him as he sat in the middle of his tube. His partner next to him awkwardly leaded forward, constantly hitting Louis with his shoulder with each wave the boat went over. While the boat continued forwards each man’s attention was on the future, they had forgotten exactly where they were supposed to land. Louis’ and one other were going correctly. But the other two, in their own ignorance, shifted in the same direction. As Louis glanced over, he squinted and tried to make out what the boats were doing. With each cloud that slowly moved in front of the Moon, the boats were floating closer and closer together. One was farther away from the other and as the boats started to approach the Island, rocks began to appear. The men aboard the leading boat gasped as their boat began to shift and change direction as the tides within the rocks changed it’s heading. The men in the boat farther back didn’t notice this and when they started to approach the boat ahead of them, they immediately drew their guns in caution. While the men in the first boat began attempts to change the motor’s direction, it became obvious the boats were going to have a head on collision. As a massive cloud blocked the Moon, Louis watched in pure awe and horror as the second boat popped a round at the first. Suddenly a flurry of weapons rounds burst in the silence of the night.
In the distance, red dots began to pop up all over the fortress which had become illuminated by the full force of the moon. The lights in reality were alarms pulsing. The sound of sirens began to wail quietly in the distance, while the sound of planes which had died out prior to the friendly fire now returned. Flying low, Louis watched on as both the boats were hit with rounds, leaving the boat as well as there bodies decimated. They were both strafed with bullets, water splashed and flew in the air. In retaliation the few men who physically able shot back, but to no avail. The airplanes screamed over them, the red dot on their sides barely visible. Now only a quarter of a mile away from the Island, Louis and those around him thought in dread of reality. Spot lights lit up the sky, others lit the beaches. Louis watched as a spotlight revealed a spot a yard away from his location. The operator of the spotlight and the machine gunner beside him were watching everything the light revealed, the gunner eager to squeeze his trigger. Time slowed down to nearly a standstill as Louis watched the spot light shift ever so slowly towards him. He breathed biting his lip, he blinked softly. He looked at the man in front of him, at the back of his helmet. He wondered if he was experiencing the same feelings that he was. WIth a final breath, the world around him exploded into the brightest hailstorm he could imagine. Machine gun fire erupted in the distance and simultaneously exploded around him. Instantly, startled shouts came forth from a few of the men. Metallic grunts and the echoing sound of rounds hitting flesh rang in Louis’ helmet as it slipped down on his ears. Louis leaned as far forward as possible, he could hear dozens of rounds fly and pass over his head. The single thought went through Louis’s mind was that his world would be extinguished with one round. The soldier in front of him in a single moment jerk violently and started to fall out of the boat. Louis gripped the back of his now bloody shirt, shifting his body back in front of Louis. The man’s neck had been torn open, a majority of his horribly disfigured spine was now visible among the bloodied scraps of flesh that hung from his jaw and vertebrae. Only a second into the suppression, Louis knew that his entire squad had been slaughtered with out a single shot back in retaliation. Unable to move out of fear, Louis felt his partner bump into him again. Glancing at him, Louis’ stomach dropped and he felt nauseous as he saw his that his partner’s head had been destroyed, only part of his jaw remained; his torso was equally decimated. The shoulders which had only minutes ago bumped into him were now torn away, only the bones and tendons now lay atop them. In an instant of pure deperation, Louis threw himself sideways, landing in the water. In mid flight, a round tore through his arm, instantly taking most his bicep with itself. Louis’s brain exploded as the nerve endings in his body sent it messages of only the most agonizing of pains. As Louis fell towards the water, he blacked out.
It was all so hazy. Why was he here? Something felt familiar, but the feeling was beyond distant. As Louis walked forward, he approached his cousin’s house. A handful of other children ran around in their costumes, enjoying themselves. Louis felt as if he were in a daze, each step he took felt as if he himself weren’t taking them. Nothing seemed perfectly natural. The children ran by him, but he couldn’t particularly make them out in detail. He tried to strain his mind to understand what was happening, but everything continued on whether or not he understood Louis watched as his hand reach forward, gripping the door handle. As he turned it, the door opened, and before him his aunt invited him. “They’re in the basement” she told him as she pointed towards a door. Her voiced echoed off the walls, something was obviously not right. Once again walking without meaning, Louis approached the door. With each step, his pace slowed down. His pulse began to increase continuously while the world rapidly began to slow down until he was barely moving. In an instant the door swung open, revealing a unbelievably bright light. As the world around him distorted and shifted away, it turned to darkness. However, the temporary reality of the darkness became no more once it became enveloped by the light. Louis shook as he began to experience a sharp pain on his forehead. The previous feelings of helplessness and no self control faded away as Louis regained consciousness.
He coughed up his tooth, it had nearly become lodged deep in his throat. Spitting it out, water soon followed. Releasing the contents of his stomach on the sand next to him the soldier smacked Louis again in the head with his rifle. If Louis hadn’t shown life signs, the soldier may have shot him for good measure. His arm had become severely infected, which was outwardly obvious due to the discoloration of his tissue. His Louis began to rapidly collect his mind, he could feel the heaviness of his arm, the total lack of control. When he tried to move his arm, thing happened. Louis realized in silent dismay that he was attempting to move muscles that no longer existed. As the Soldier above him grabbed him by his waterlogged backpack, Louis stumbled onto his feet A soldier had his rifle aimed at the hip, pointing towards Louis. His partner began to take out the contents of the pack. As Louis watched, he began to drift into light headiness. But something kept him from passing out, from giving up. As Louis regained his mental barings, he looked at the shoreline ahead of him. Farther up the shore several corpses were laying as a soldier went through their pockets and packs. The Sun was barely over the horizon, the morning was just dawning. Snapping to attention as the soldier began to talk in his native tongue, Louis watch as the soldier held a picture of Louis’ daughter. He handed it to the other soldier who was holding the rifle. In response, the soldier said nothing. Looking back at Louis, they looked into each other’s eyes. Bringing his rifle up, he looked through it’s iron sights, once again making eye contact with louis through it’s small metallic circle. Louis heard the sound of a pop and crack.
Snapping to attention as the soldier began to speak in his native tongue, Louis watch as the soldier held a picture Louis’s daughter. He handed it to the other soldier who was holding the rifle. In response, the soldier said nothing. Looking back at Louis, they looked into each other’s eyes. With a wave of a hand, the soldiers lead Louis at gunpoint towards the jungle’s edge. Louis’ mind began to race and wonder what had just happened to himself, his initial thought was of de ja vu, but something suggested more.
Hall after hall went by, light after light. Louis slipped in and out of delirium, the mixture of infection, mild dehydration, and hunger were taking their toll on him. He was bound perhaps, even he were not though, he was in no position to do anything. In a mindset of only the most minimal self control, Louis looked upwards at lights, at the faces of men who he had grown to despise. The only feelings Louis felt during these periods of the darkness occasionally being interrupted by light were helplessness and defenselessness. These feelings were truly realized as reality when Louis snapped upwards. The dark surrounded him, absolute and impenetrable. The sudden change in setting upset Louis as he adjusted to the formlessness of his domain. Gazing upwards, there was only one hint of light that illuminated a negligible amount of space within his cell. A hole six feet above him let out a small amount of light, but as soon as Louis noticed it, it disappeared. Now he was completely solitary. As time began to rapidly pass by him, he sat where he was. The abyss in which he resided plunged him into a state of anxiety. He tried to imagine his surroundings, the situation of his comrades, and where he was. As his anxiety began to pass, for the first time since his boat had been fired upon, he was completely aware. As he began to analyze his situation, Louis began to sort the past out as pest he could. The past day... or perhaps few hours... Louis realized he had no reference point for what time it was. He tried his best to think, he could hardly understand what had happened. He kept thinking of the soldier grabbed the picture. Why had he done so? As Louis continued to ponder and meditate in a state of anxiousness, he eventually began to slow down. He was stripped of his clothing, his identity. The uniform which adorned his American affiliation was no longer with him, Louis was saddened by this. His constant companion through his time at sea was now gone. Inclined to lay, he reached for the ground and was unable to support himself, and his previous train of thought came to a sudden and horrible halt. Everything that had been his mind escaped as quickly as the light in the hole above. Now he was awkwardly sprawled at an angle on the ground. “My God.” he whispered in horror, as he began to feel the nub of an arm which had been sliced off. With a yell that never ended, an aching soreness shot up through his body. Louis came to realize how complete his captors had their hold on him.
He sat in the corner. This enemy was unlike any he had faced before. It was cunning, unrelenting, strategic. He was out of his element, and they knew this. He was in their territory now and he was at their mercy. Sitting in a state of paranoia, Louis waited for the enemy to show it’s face. He looked onwards, at the familiar darkness. Although his enemy was out of sight, the darkness itself was something Louis kept underestimating. There something about the darkness, he could feel it around him. His cell was hot and stuffy, he could feel the sweat drip. What was preventing it, the end? This, perhaps was a torture worse then death itself. Louis knew that his enemy believed that death was a gift, that death was mercy. At that time, no mercy was being shown. Each breath brought with it the previous feelings of increasing anxiousness that Louis had endured. He couldn’t be kept within these boundaries for much longer, his muscles ached with inactivity. Something scampered somewhere near him, but was immediately silenced as it went through the wall and out of his cell. This event caused to him to think, how big was his cell? Louis had not found the time to feel around, preoccupation with his recent amputation sapped his energy as well as his attention. Putting as much force as he could muster, he pushed himself backwards, shimmying himself upwards the wall. After he had finally stood up, Louis began to struggle forward. The sudden head rush that hit him forced him to stagger against the wall. The knock reminded him of a moment long ago, a recurring memory which of late, he had been frequently meditating on. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed, given how distraught she was at the time, and given how fast she had ran by him. He tried to yell at her as he passed, but she didn’t even stop. He almost resented himself for not saying what he wanted too. Had he yelled, if he had even made any kind noise in that dark abyss, Louis hadn’t noticed. What took place wasn’t right, but yet-. Louis ended his thoughts. Now rebounding off the wall, he moved forward along it, his right hand gliding across it’s damp and cold exterior. He took a few steps, anticipating along the way what was to come. It soon became obvious how deceiving the darkness had been, cloaking the true nature of the cell. After several more steps, something caught his attention. The now growing familiarity he associated with the feeling of the stone that made up the wall had shifted to something more ridged, the feeling of wood. He stopped. Without thinking he scratched the wood, but to know avail. He stooped over, with all his might he began to rip at the wood, he scratched the wood more and more viciously. Every second increased his ferocity. Soon without noticing, Louis had begun to rip off his finger nails, progressively resulting in the bloody stubs of his fingertips beginning to strip back to their bone. His neck twitched, blood began to drip from a nostril, and his eyes rolled.
After several more steps, something caught his attention. The now growing familiarity he associated with the feeling of the stone that made up the wall had shifted to something more ridged, the feeling of wood. He put his hand on the wood. It was a door. When Louis began to feel compelled to scratch at the door, he stopped. An occurrence which had happened, as if recently, reminded of him of how he felt presently. As he stood in the darkness, he remembered the beach and the soldiers. The question which was previously asked but that remained unanswered resurfaced in his mind. His hand was raised above him on the wall, his forehead was pressed against the wood. Inhaling the musk ingrained within the wood, he pressed his mind harder then last time. The image of his daughter was perfectly visualized, nearly every detail. Perhaps, it was something else. Was something in the picture that revealed himself as important? Obviously it was critical, for he was still alive. Soon standing along the wall, his back began to buckle, and fatigue started to creep into every muscle of his body. His arm, now nonexistent beckoned him to rest. At first resisting, Louis soon couldn’t help his legs from giving out. The floor was cold and damp. Laying on his stomach, he used his arm to keep his head from coming contact with the filthy flooring. For the first time Louis asked himself, “What have I gotten myself into?”
Closing the door behind him, Louis began to step down the wooden stairs which lead into the basement. Looking at his foot, he began analyzing each step. With his descent, Louis felt a growing weight. Slowly, Louis was making his way farther and farther into the basement. As he began to think about where he was, he felt as if he were having de ja vu. Nearly at the bottom of the stairs, he began to understand where he was. Reaching the final step, he finally understand what was truly at work. At some point in his life, he had already experienced this. Although it felt as if it were a memory, Louis couldn’t remember what was going to happen next. The light on the wall flickered, a ball rolled off a box and on to the ground. Louis was now in his cousin’s basement. But his cousin was no where to be found. Something was odd in the air, something ominous. Along the walls of the large basement were lockers, boxes, and at the very end, a refrigerator. Beginning to pace from end of the basement, Louis knew his cousin was somewhere near by. With each investigation of nearby hiding places, he came up empty handed. At any second he could reveal himself. But Louis knew that this wouldn’t going to be the case, instead he was going to hide. His location was just on the tip of tongue, on the very edge of realization. A few feet from the opposite end of the basement, Louis stopped. Although he hadn’t come to a conclusion to where his cousin was, something urged to him to leave the basement immediately. Turning around, Louis began to walk briskly away from the wall. Something horrible was about to be sprung, and Louis awkwardly tried to avoid the trigger as best he could. The realization that he was truly helpless to avoiding what were to come, was realized to late. As someone yelled “NOW!” the lights in the basement went unlit and darkness came upon Louis. As quickly as the lights went out, Louis’ heart plunged. Staying in place, he tried to be invisible. The muffled voice had come from behind him and now Louis focused on his attention to the sounds around him. Eerily, there was silence. Until something cracked open behind him and a slight hum became audible. Along with the sound came a sudden flash of light, confusing Louis. Without understanding, Louis turned around to see the origin of the sound and noise. The outline of something horrible was visible, surrounded by light. Something with an unnatural body. Something with grotesque ears. Something with fangs. Something that disappeared as the refrigerator behind it closed.
The light which faded previously began to take focus once again, blinding Louis as he attempted to squint. He closed them immediately as he began to take control of his feelings. He felt straps bound his arms and legs. The leather had become wet with perspiration, yet although he attempted, he could not unbind himself. He heard someone across the room muttering in foreign tongue. Sounds of scratching, and tools being tossed were audible. Something kept him from opening his eyes, he feared what would appear. Rather then being forced to eventually, he opted to do the horrible deed himself. Opening them, he shuttered. All around him were the most horrifying of tools. Louis could feel his heart rate increase as gazed upon drills of various lengths, hammers with dozens of different heads, and vials with liquids of every color within the spectrum collected inside them. Skulls adorned the wall on his right, one after another. There mouths were set in a ghastly smile, a hue of green was shining on their rough appearance. Louis started to wonder who the owner of these horrible tools was. Unfocusing his eyes, Louis noticed a drill was aimed directly at him, looking him the eye no less then two inches away from him. Thoughts from the darkest parts of mind began to creep up, scenarios with the most disturbing outcomes as well. Closing his eyes again, Louis feared what was going to become of him. A sharp pain came upon his cheek as a Doctor slapped him. Jerking his head to the left, the Doctor grasped Louis head and forced him to look at the picture from the beach. Looking at it, the Doctor pointed at something behind his daughter in the bottom left hand corner of the picture. A horrible realization hit Louis as he began to piece together why the picture had been so important to the enemy. In the picture was Louis’ radio equipment adorning the typing Military camo. The enemy now knew who he was.
“We know. Now, you will begin to explain the codes. Don’t act like you can’t translate them either, we know code talkers’ jobs.” the doctor scoffed in a slight foreign accent. Although Louis realized the horrible position he was in and that he was at the mercy of his captor, fear as well as instinct kept his mouth shut. Although he had convinced himself on what he was going to do, constant thoughts of what was going to happen kept popping into his head. Disillusioned, Louis began to take himself mentally away from the situation. Eyes dull, as well as his mind, Louis steeled himself for what was to come. His eyes swayed from the doctor, as he turned away and began to mess around with his utensils, as well as the drill which was positioned so close to his eyes. The Doctor turned around, facing Louis. In his right hand was a knife.
“This is what must be done? So be it.”
Bloodied and battered Louis was slipping into a state of near death. His tongue was swollen and he craved water. His stomach was as empty as the abyss with hunger. His mind was beginning to turn inside out. His time spent in the Doctor’s office was beginning to be to much for him. Louis’ vision was beginning to fade, he knew that he was going to crack. Louis could no longer see the Doctor’s eyes, with his head slumped at an angle, all he saw was the reflection of the light off the Doctor’s glasses. The clock on the wall which up until had been unnoticed begun to tick-tock loudly. An almost dream like scene lay before louis. With every second that passed, it felt like an eternity for Louis. Cuts adorned his body, drill which was aimed at his eye, was only a trick. Instead, the doctor had saved it for something more “special,” as put it. Although there was previously a nub where his arm ahd been amputated, now there was a collective of gaping holes. Taking effort to look away from the doctor’s glasses, he began to scan down his arm. Held in a clenched fist was a syringe. Louis’ mind began to ponder what could be the purpose of it. He began to clench his fists and flex his legs in anticipation. The skulls on the wall began to stare at him. Posters of human anatomy that adorned the wall were also apart of this horrible audience. All eyes were on him, their was a show about to take place and the audience watched in eager anticipation. The star of this twisted sitcom was Louis himself.
‘This. This is it, this is what’s going to make you talk. Any efforts to resist will be futile, I assure you,” he told Louis as he began to pace towards him. He continued, “Your mind will be rendered nearly useless after less then hour, so, I’m going to be making you talk fast.” The Doctor placed the needle near Louis’ neck. His voiced seemed to boom and echo off the walls around him. “You will not be missed.” he laughingly whispered. TIme stood still. Louis only had a feint idea of what was to come. He could feel the presence of the doctor but could not completely see him, the light above blocked all definite vision. But the needle itself could not be seen at all. The needle, made of fine metal was only millimeters away.
Louis was plunged into a world of darkness once again. Stuck within the confines of his own mind, he was lost. He attempted to give explanations of his sudden transitioning. Initially unaware of what had become of him, he soon became very aware. Something moved towards him cumbersomely. As moments began to pass by, each one resulting into another bulky step, Louis’ thoughts which had only seconds ago been logical, began to degrade into a sheer state of terror. Stumblingly, Louis began to make his way away from the sounds in front of him. But as he began to quicken his pace, so did the noises behind him. As Louis began to start running, the sudden fear of being pounced upon by the darkness itself began to ravage him. Where were the steps? Louis knew that he had descended down to this hell from somewhere, but the location of them pervaded them. He could hear the breathing of the beast behind him and he knew that stopping was not an option. When Louis’ foot made contact with the elevated stair, he lost balance, flying face first into them. At his dismay, the beast grabbed him by the legs and attempted to drag him back into the darkness, back to the place which would be the end of him. With all his might, louis attempted to kick in desperation at the beast. Making contact with that dreaded arm, Louis broke his grip and began making his way back up the stairs. The vertical assent seemed to take forever, the steps themselves began to multiply. With sheer effort, he forced himself up them. After what seemed a life time, Louis made it to the door. As he reached for the door handle, it was locked. Stupefied and in a state of awe, he stood in place. Bending down to the keyhole, he looked through. At the moment he made eye contact with the person on the other side, Louis had the wind knocked out of him as he was swept off his feet by the beast, which tore him away to the place where light did not shine. Louis hands grinded on each step, leaving fingernails behind.
His body shook, the walls rattled. Reality itself began to shake. He couldn’t open his eyes, for he lacked the willpower to do so. As his sense began to fully take shape, he could no longer feel the constant feeling of his restraints. With a thought, Louis woozily stood up. The room rattled again, this time nearly causing him to fall. Stumbling, Louis caught himself with his good arm. As if he were reliving it again, his mind acknowledged his handicap once more. An oddity of some sort occurred in the corner of his eye. Looking over, he saw something standing and staring at him. Louis was making eye contact with something horrible. It was the beast from the memory which haunted him. In it’s hands was the syringe which had only previously been in his veins. Taking a step forward, Louis felt as if he were in a temporary state of paralyzation. The colors around him shifted in hues and brightness. The vibrancy of the ancient lighting that illuminated the room began to take on hues of red. Moving forward once more, the room began to take on the shape of the basement that Louis kept finding himself in. For the first time, the beast took notice of him.
“What are you doing? How did you get u-” but the beast’s foreign accent was silenced as Louis began to grip his throat. Holding tight and venting his anger, Louis watched as the beast began to shift in his hands. Only moments ago Louis felt no strength in his body, but now he was able to hold the beast in place with one arm. In anger, Louis tried to put his other hand around the beast’s throat. Although he first imagined gripping it’s throat, he soon noticed it had returned. He visualized the phantom arm, but was unsure if it was truly there or not. The beast’s face soon had glasses, the red lights around him reflected off of them, hiding it’s horrible pupils. As Louis began to loosen his grip, another vibration shook reality, shifting the room once more. Louis now noticed the door which lead out of the room. Releasing his grip and stumbling towards it, he tried to open the door. For some reason, his instinct told him it was locked, but upon turning the handle, it opened. Leaving the room which had served as his place of torture, he was now welcomed by a dank and damp hallway. Closing the door behind himself, he began to run down the corridor with full speed. Although his previous surge of adrenaline and energy was beginning to lessen, something urged him to continue. On the walls were signs with arrows, but the words on them were no more then mere lines. Louis once again felt the paranoia that he was placed in a test, as if the enemy had planned out all what was happening. Sprinting, in mid-lunge, someone sprinted by him, causing Louis to stumble into a ladder which he almost passed up. Looking down the hallway, he saw his aunt hysterically running towards the torture room. Stunned, Louis refused to allow her to pass by again. “It wasn’t my fault” Louis yelled at the top of his lungs. Her hysterical screaming now turned to a horrible moaning. Turning away, he grabbed the ladder, and he slowly forced himself upwards, compensating for his handicap. He looked down once more. Stunned by what he saw, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Beneath him, the floor was nonexistent, instead replaced by pure blackness. Refusing to experience the darkness which had been his reality for so long, Louis began making his way up to the next hall way, towards light. Reaching the top of the ladder which had just saved him, he turned right down the new hall way. As he ran, he took note of the walls. The cracks in between each brick seemed to be leaking smoke. Soon, Louis reach another wall, it seemed as if he had hit a dead end. Louis was in a stupor, he knew that soon he would no longer be able to push himself. When a door on the wall opened and an explosion of flames flew from it, Louis stumbled backwards. With a scream, a being made of fire escaped the door, screaming at him in a tone of agonizing pain. The sudden thought of being engulfed within the hellish flames, urged Louis to make his way to where he had previously came. But as quickly as he ran, the flame and the sudden surge of smoke followed him. Passing the ladder which he had climbed, he continued down the hallway. Soon, the ladder too was engulfed in the burning flames, the damp feeling which the hallway had only previously felt like, now was replaced with an intolerable heat. The heat felt like it was burning Louis from the inside out, but he was completely unable to sweat. Approaching another ladder, Louis was almost sweeped away by the flames once again. But as much as he tried, Louis could not move fast enough up the ladder, his handicap now more so then ever was failing him. With the greatest of efforts, he inched himself up. Peeking beneath him, only smoke greeted him. New beings ran beneath him, all screaming. They ran in disorganized patterns, trampling each other. Some attempted to quench the oncoming flames. But they made no effect. As Louis slowly began reaching the top, the flames below claimed new victims. The beings themselves took on the form of the fire, strengthening it. Grabbing the last part of the ladder which would grant him escape, Louis looked down once more. Rapidly, the ladder itself began to disappear, falling into the abysmal darkness which wanted so dearly to claim Louis for itself. Shimming himself up the last few inches, Louis dragged himself away from the ladder. With sudden force that startled the disillusioned Louis, flames exploded from the place that he had just ascended. Crawling once more down a final hallway, Louis moved slowly towards a final door. As the hall began to fill with smoke, each crawl was a struggle for life and sanity for Louis. Foot by foot, meter by meter, Louis crawled towards the exit. The walls took on the forms of all those that Louis had met in the military, fought alongside with, and all those that he had killed. The proximity from the wall increased and decreased with each movement. Choked by smoke, Louis began to cough. This phenomenon raised no question in Louis’ head, he resented it instead. He didn’t look in their eyes, he was ashamed of hat he had done. The faces beckoned him to talk, to make conversation. His eyes burned, but didn’t water. Oxygen rapidly became scarce, there wasn’t enough for Louis to breath.
The face of the doctor, his reflecting glasses tilted at an angle, appeared on the wall and whispered, “I forgive you.” as louis crawled past without acknowledging him.
The face of the very distraught aunt appeared on the wall and whispered,
“I forgive you” as Louis who at the sound of her voice, flinched and looked away.
The face of the beast, grisly as it was appeared and growled,
“I forgive you.” as Louis stopped to look at him. They were face to face. As if accepting Louis, the beast’s face contorted back into the stone wall in which he was made. Louis could no longer breath. The world around him began to shift and contort into darkness. Soon the only thing visible in Louis’ squinting burning eyes was the exit. The voices now silenced, Louis urged himself to escape. Crumbled on the floor, straining to survive, Louis reached the door. Now at his weakest, Louis was closest to escape. The flames which had been stalking him through out this nightmare began to make their presence known once more. Louis’ fear of the darkness which wanted him to itself was only matched by the dry, burning flames which devoured others into it’s being. Propping himself up one knee required what seemed monstrous strength. Louis coughed and gasped for breath. He could no longer think properly. Getting on the other knee required nearly every muscle in his body. His hand on the hinge, Louis used his final bit of strength to pull it open. As it fully opened, in an instant, Louis was once again engulfed by the blinding light. Darkness’ enemy appeared, fighting it back. Basking in the light, Louis breathed fresh air for the first time in what seemed a life time. As this moment past, Louis felt an unnatural surge of heat push behind and past him, ejecting him forward and through the air, sending him into the sky. The last thing Louis saw was the Sun high in the air as it was beginning to dawn. The last sensation he felt was the joy of feeling it’s warmth on himself. His last thought was of the darkness of which he had finally escaped.
EPILOGUE
As the Navy began it’s bombardment of the Japanese Fortress Island, they were were met with mild air force resistance, as well as small arms fire. Quickly decimating the fortress’es’ defenses with heavy artillery, the navy unknowingly set the fortress ablaze, killing under two-hundred men inside. As the invasion force arrived on the island, they began assaulting the base, taking prisoners by surprise, and quickly gaining control of the fortress. The fortress’ initial size was greatly underestimated, the miles of underground tunnels beneath the fortress had not been accounted by the original intelligence. Of the initial scouting/invasion force, only one survived. Due to the initial forces cover being blown, they were quickly dispersed by enemy aircraft. None of the dead’s bodies were recovered. However the only soldier of the initial force which survived was nearly overlooked. On the verge of death several yards away from the base, his body was only recovered after a soldier noticed that the the foliage had been broken by something. It would seem that the survivor had been put through severe experimental torture, even having his left arm amputated for some unknown reason, although there are already several theories behind this. The survivor somehow orchestrated his own escape, making his way to the top of the fortress. Upon opening the door to escape, he was promptly dispatched by a burst of flames that escaped the enclosed hallway when it was opened. He has been relocated to the closet ship where he being treated for third degree burns and several dozen lesions on his body. Because of this, we have been unable to positively identify him, he was nude when we found him. Results have shown that due to prolonged lack of oxygen he has become close to brain dead. However, it seems there is still hope. Although he is in some kind of mentally induced coma, he has shown some simple signs of communication. The most obvious being of course, when he is left in the doctor’s room, alone, after the doctors have turned out the lights.
By S. Watson
“You will land,” the Officer pointed towards various tips of the island, “here, here, here, and here.” Those that were sitting and facing the Officer all shook there heads affirmatively. “Upon breaching shore, you will continue through these parts of the jungle,” he paused to point at the points before continuing, “and continue onwards to these locations. Here you will position yourselves to create observation areas. Enough supplies will be provided in your packs to last you for three days, upon which you will scout the area ahead when the soldiers hit the beach here,” moving across the projector screen, casting a shadow on the board behind him, and pointed at western shoreline of the Island. Pausing to allow the audience to understand, he droned on, explaining “but, they will not show up until the navy as properly bombarded the fortress. It’s imperative that you do not move from your location, to do so would mean cer-” Louis looked forward in a trance. When he was told that he would be taking apart in this mission, he quickly started to become nervous. Louis had been pulled away from his normal duties among his old squad, specifically for his unique understanding of the American’s code talk and served as the perfect translator and decoder of messages. He and the three other men in the room were to strategically place themselves on the Island. Along with the translators would be a small squad of sharpshooters, however, only the men that were being briefed knew the specifics of the mission. This was intended so that if the men were caught, they wouldn’t be tortured into revealing the secrets of the mission. Something inside of Louis warned him of the dangers of the upcoming mission, but his military discipline however overrode his instincts.
It was just past Midnight. The stars in the sky twinkled, the Moon was a crescent tonight, only giving a glimmer of light on the sea. Standing among the men who were take apart of the mission, Louis looked around. There was barely enough light to illuminate the flag which wove above the aircraft carrier’s bridge. On the opposite end of the football field long ship, Louis could make out the souliette of Mustangs that could take to the sky at any moment if the situation called for it. The feeling of properly being defended, Louis realized, would soon be gone. Instead of the usual armored troop transport that were used on typical insertions were not being used tonight. Instead the twilight revealed twelve foot long jet black inflatable tubes. As he continued to think about this, thoughts of weakness and danger began to pop in his head. What if they were spotted? What if a gun misfired and revealed their position while they were floating towards the surface. Louis gripped his Thompson tighter in his palms. With a quick snap of the safety lever, he insured no such event would occur. As clouds started to move by the Moon, it became much harder to make out things in the distance. With a whistle, the squads were waved towards different tubes. Taking this spots in them, every man gripped their float as secure as possibly. A sudden surge of anxiety hit Louis. Through all of his military training and years of combat experience, this was possibly the most dangerous mission yet. He trusted in his abilities and realized that he wouldn’t have been picked if his superiors hadn’t felt similar. He couldn’t fail however, the burden wouldn’t be his to bare. Louis now felt steadfast determination as the cables lowered him until the latches gripping his tube let go, and with a splash, the boat motors began to grind forward.
Far in the distance massive, dull blob formed. It was obviously the Island, but one thing Louis hadn’t accounted for was the size of the Island itself. The Island itself had a single mountain on it, the enemy which was entrench there had built a fortress out of the mountain. Nor the amount of activity on it, each minute revealing a more defined island. “Look, up there, is that a plane?
“No one said there would be planes. What is this?” two disgruntled soldiers expressed. Indeed, the briefing hadn’t revealed this. Whether to ensure the Soldiers wouldn’t back out or because they had received inaccurate reports, Louis didn’t know. With the men a few miles away from the Island, they realized that the mission was a suicide run. Horror creeped into every single man’s mind. They knew what was before them, they knew they were fodder. Each man lowered themselves, hunching forward. They grinded their teeth, bit their lips, readied their weapons. Each man waited for the second that they would be caught, the moment they would begin shooting at the enemy that wanted them dead. A sense of determination which was common among the Navy motivated them forward. Louis shifted the weight beneath him as he sat in the middle of his tube. His partner next to him awkwardly leaded forward, constantly hitting Louis with his shoulder with each wave the boat went over. While the boat continued forwards each man’s attention was on the future, they had forgotten exactly where they were supposed to land. Louis’ and one other were going correctly. But the other two, in their own ignorance, shifted in the same direction. As Louis glanced over, he squinted and tried to make out what the boats were doing. With each cloud that slowly moved in front of the Moon, the boats were floating closer and closer together. One was farther away from the other and as the boats started to approach the Island, rocks began to appear. The men aboard the leading boat gasped as their boat began to shift and change direction as the tides within the rocks changed it’s heading. The men in the boat farther back didn’t notice this and when they started to approach the boat ahead of them, they immediately drew their guns in caution. While the men in the first boat began attempts to change the motor’s direction, it became obvious the boats were going to have a head on collision. As a massive cloud blocked the Moon, Louis watched in pure awe and horror as the second boat popped a round at the first. Suddenly a flurry of weapons rounds burst in the silence of the night.
In the distance, red dots began to pop up all over the fortress which had become illuminated by the full force of the moon. The lights in reality were alarms pulsing. The sound of sirens began to wail quietly in the distance, while the sound of planes which had died out prior to the friendly fire now returned. Flying low, Louis watched on as both the boats were hit with rounds, leaving the boat as well as there bodies decimated. They were both strafed with bullets, water splashed and flew in the air. In retaliation the few men who physically able shot back, but to no avail. The airplanes screamed over them, the red dot on their sides barely visible. Now only a quarter of a mile away from the Island, Louis and those around him thought in dread of reality. Spot lights lit up the sky, others lit the beaches. Louis watched as a spotlight revealed a spot a yard away from his location. The operator of the spotlight and the machine gunner beside him were watching everything the light revealed, the gunner eager to squeeze his trigger. Time slowed down to nearly a standstill as Louis watched the spot light shift ever so slowly towards him. He breathed biting his lip, he blinked softly. He looked at the man in front of him, at the back of his helmet. He wondered if he was experiencing the same feelings that he was. WIth a final breath, the world around him exploded into the brightest hailstorm he could imagine. Machine gun fire erupted in the distance and simultaneously exploded around him. Instantly, startled shouts came forth from a few of the men. Metallic grunts and the echoing sound of rounds hitting flesh rang in Louis’ helmet as it slipped down on his ears. Louis leaned as far forward as possible, he could hear dozens of rounds fly and pass over his head. The single thought went through Louis’s mind was that his world would be extinguished with one round. The soldier in front of him in a single moment jerk violently and started to fall out of the boat. Louis gripped the back of his now bloody shirt, shifting his body back in front of Louis. The man’s neck had been torn open, a majority of his horribly disfigured spine was now visible among the bloodied scraps of flesh that hung from his jaw and vertebrae. Only a second into the suppression, Louis knew that his entire squad had been slaughtered with out a single shot back in retaliation. Unable to move out of fear, Louis felt his partner bump into him again. Glancing at him, Louis’ stomach dropped and he felt nauseous as he saw his that his partner’s head had been destroyed, only part of his jaw remained; his torso was equally decimated. The shoulders which had only minutes ago bumped into him were now torn away, only the bones and tendons now lay atop them. In an instant of pure deperation, Louis threw himself sideways, landing in the water. In mid flight, a round tore through his arm, instantly taking most his bicep with itself. Louis’s brain exploded as the nerve endings in his body sent it messages of only the most agonizing of pains. As Louis fell towards the water, he blacked out.
It was all so hazy. Why was he here? Something felt familiar, but the feeling was beyond distant. As Louis walked forward, he approached his cousin’s house. A handful of other children ran around in their costumes, enjoying themselves. Louis felt as if he were in a daze, each step he took felt as if he himself weren’t taking them. Nothing seemed perfectly natural. The children ran by him, but he couldn’t particularly make them out in detail. He tried to strain his mind to understand what was happening, but everything continued on whether or not he understood Louis watched as his hand reach forward, gripping the door handle. As he turned it, the door opened, and before him his aunt invited him. “They’re in the basement” she told him as she pointed towards a door. Her voiced echoed off the walls, something was obviously not right. Once again walking without meaning, Louis approached the door. With each step, his pace slowed down. His pulse began to increase continuously while the world rapidly began to slow down until he was barely moving. In an instant the door swung open, revealing a unbelievably bright light. As the world around him distorted and shifted away, it turned to darkness. However, the temporary reality of the darkness became no more once it became enveloped by the light. Louis shook as he began to experience a sharp pain on his forehead. The previous feelings of helplessness and no self control faded away as Louis regained consciousness.
He coughed up his tooth, it had nearly become lodged deep in his throat. Spitting it out, water soon followed. Releasing the contents of his stomach on the sand next to him the soldier smacked Louis again in the head with his rifle. If Louis hadn’t shown life signs, the soldier may have shot him for good measure. His arm had become severely infected, which was outwardly obvious due to the discoloration of his tissue. His Louis began to rapidly collect his mind, he could feel the heaviness of his arm, the total lack of control. When he tried to move his arm, thing happened. Louis realized in silent dismay that he was attempting to move muscles that no longer existed. As the Soldier above him grabbed him by his waterlogged backpack, Louis stumbled onto his feet A soldier had his rifle aimed at the hip, pointing towards Louis. His partner began to take out the contents of the pack. As Louis watched, he began to drift into light headiness. But something kept him from passing out, from giving up. As Louis regained his mental barings, he looked at the shoreline ahead of him. Farther up the shore several corpses were laying as a soldier went through their pockets and packs. The Sun was barely over the horizon, the morning was just dawning. Snapping to attention as the soldier began to talk in his native tongue, Louis watch as the soldier held a picture of Louis’ daughter. He handed it to the other soldier who was holding the rifle. In response, the soldier said nothing. Looking back at Louis, they looked into each other’s eyes. Bringing his rifle up, he looked through it’s iron sights, once again making eye contact with louis through it’s small metallic circle. Louis heard the sound of a pop and crack.
Snapping to attention as the soldier began to speak in his native tongue, Louis watch as the soldier held a picture Louis’s daughter. He handed it to the other soldier who was holding the rifle. In response, the soldier said nothing. Looking back at Louis, they looked into each other’s eyes. With a wave of a hand, the soldiers lead Louis at gunpoint towards the jungle’s edge. Louis’ mind began to race and wonder what had just happened to himself, his initial thought was of de ja vu, but something suggested more.
Hall after hall went by, light after light. Louis slipped in and out of delirium, the mixture of infection, mild dehydration, and hunger were taking their toll on him. He was bound perhaps, even he were not though, he was in no position to do anything. In a mindset of only the most minimal self control, Louis looked upwards at lights, at the faces of men who he had grown to despise. The only feelings Louis felt during these periods of the darkness occasionally being interrupted by light were helplessness and defenselessness. These feelings were truly realized as reality when Louis snapped upwards. The dark surrounded him, absolute and impenetrable. The sudden change in setting upset Louis as he adjusted to the formlessness of his domain. Gazing upwards, there was only one hint of light that illuminated a negligible amount of space within his cell. A hole six feet above him let out a small amount of light, but as soon as Louis noticed it, it disappeared. Now he was completely solitary. As time began to rapidly pass by him, he sat where he was. The abyss in which he resided plunged him into a state of anxiety. He tried to imagine his surroundings, the situation of his comrades, and where he was. As his anxiety began to pass, for the first time since his boat had been fired upon, he was completely aware. As he began to analyze his situation, Louis began to sort the past out as pest he could. The past day... or perhaps few hours... Louis realized he had no reference point for what time it was. He tried his best to think, he could hardly understand what had happened. He kept thinking of the soldier grabbed the picture. Why had he done so? As Louis continued to ponder and meditate in a state of anxiousness, he eventually began to slow down. He was stripped of his clothing, his identity. The uniform which adorned his American affiliation was no longer with him, Louis was saddened by this. His constant companion through his time at sea was now gone. Inclined to lay, he reached for the ground and was unable to support himself, and his previous train of thought came to a sudden and horrible halt. Everything that had been his mind escaped as quickly as the light in the hole above. Now he was awkwardly sprawled at an angle on the ground. “My God.” he whispered in horror, as he began to feel the nub of an arm which had been sliced off. With a yell that never ended, an aching soreness shot up through his body. Louis came to realize how complete his captors had their hold on him.
He sat in the corner. This enemy was unlike any he had faced before. It was cunning, unrelenting, strategic. He was out of his element, and they knew this. He was in their territory now and he was at their mercy. Sitting in a state of paranoia, Louis waited for the enemy to show it’s face. He looked onwards, at the familiar darkness. Although his enemy was out of sight, the darkness itself was something Louis kept underestimating. There something about the darkness, he could feel it around him. His cell was hot and stuffy, he could feel the sweat drip. What was preventing it, the end? This, perhaps was a torture worse then death itself. Louis knew that his enemy believed that death was a gift, that death was mercy. At that time, no mercy was being shown. Each breath brought with it the previous feelings of increasing anxiousness that Louis had endured. He couldn’t be kept within these boundaries for much longer, his muscles ached with inactivity. Something scampered somewhere near him, but was immediately silenced as it went through the wall and out of his cell. This event caused to him to think, how big was his cell? Louis had not found the time to feel around, preoccupation with his recent amputation sapped his energy as well as his attention. Putting as much force as he could muster, he pushed himself backwards, shimmying himself upwards the wall. After he had finally stood up, Louis began to struggle forward. The sudden head rush that hit him forced him to stagger against the wall. The knock reminded him of a moment long ago, a recurring memory which of late, he had been frequently meditating on. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed, given how distraught she was at the time, and given how fast she had ran by him. He tried to yell at her as he passed, but she didn’t even stop. He almost resented himself for not saying what he wanted too. Had he yelled, if he had even made any kind noise in that dark abyss, Louis hadn’t noticed. What took place wasn’t right, but yet-. Louis ended his thoughts. Now rebounding off the wall, he moved forward along it, his right hand gliding across it’s damp and cold exterior. He took a few steps, anticipating along the way what was to come. It soon became obvious how deceiving the darkness had been, cloaking the true nature of the cell. After several more steps, something caught his attention. The now growing familiarity he associated with the feeling of the stone that made up the wall had shifted to something more ridged, the feeling of wood. He stopped. Without thinking he scratched the wood, but to know avail. He stooped over, with all his might he began to rip at the wood, he scratched the wood more and more viciously. Every second increased his ferocity. Soon without noticing, Louis had begun to rip off his finger nails, progressively resulting in the bloody stubs of his fingertips beginning to strip back to their bone. His neck twitched, blood began to drip from a nostril, and his eyes rolled.
After several more steps, something caught his attention. The now growing familiarity he associated with the feeling of the stone that made up the wall had shifted to something more ridged, the feeling of wood. He put his hand on the wood. It was a door. When Louis began to feel compelled to scratch at the door, he stopped. An occurrence which had happened, as if recently, reminded of him of how he felt presently. As he stood in the darkness, he remembered the beach and the soldiers. The question which was previously asked but that remained unanswered resurfaced in his mind. His hand was raised above him on the wall, his forehead was pressed against the wood. Inhaling the musk ingrained within the wood, he pressed his mind harder then last time. The image of his daughter was perfectly visualized, nearly every detail. Perhaps, it was something else. Was something in the picture that revealed himself as important? Obviously it was critical, for he was still alive. Soon standing along the wall, his back began to buckle, and fatigue started to creep into every muscle of his body. His arm, now nonexistent beckoned him to rest. At first resisting, Louis soon couldn’t help his legs from giving out. The floor was cold and damp. Laying on his stomach, he used his arm to keep his head from coming contact with the filthy flooring. For the first time Louis asked himself, “What have I gotten myself into?”
Closing the door behind him, Louis began to step down the wooden stairs which lead into the basement. Looking at his foot, he began analyzing each step. With his descent, Louis felt a growing weight. Slowly, Louis was making his way farther and farther into the basement. As he began to think about where he was, he felt as if he were having de ja vu. Nearly at the bottom of the stairs, he began to understand where he was. Reaching the final step, he finally understand what was truly at work. At some point in his life, he had already experienced this. Although it felt as if it were a memory, Louis couldn’t remember what was going to happen next. The light on the wall flickered, a ball rolled off a box and on to the ground. Louis was now in his cousin’s basement. But his cousin was no where to be found. Something was odd in the air, something ominous. Along the walls of the large basement were lockers, boxes, and at the very end, a refrigerator. Beginning to pace from end of the basement, Louis knew his cousin was somewhere near by. With each investigation of nearby hiding places, he came up empty handed. At any second he could reveal himself. But Louis knew that this wouldn’t going to be the case, instead he was going to hide. His location was just on the tip of tongue, on the very edge of realization. A few feet from the opposite end of the basement, Louis stopped. Although he hadn’t come to a conclusion to where his cousin was, something urged to him to leave the basement immediately. Turning around, Louis began to walk briskly away from the wall. Something horrible was about to be sprung, and Louis awkwardly tried to avoid the trigger as best he could. The realization that he was truly helpless to avoiding what were to come, was realized to late. As someone yelled “NOW!” the lights in the basement went unlit and darkness came upon Louis. As quickly as the lights went out, Louis’ heart plunged. Staying in place, he tried to be invisible. The muffled voice had come from behind him and now Louis focused on his attention to the sounds around him. Eerily, there was silence. Until something cracked open behind him and a slight hum became audible. Along with the sound came a sudden flash of light, confusing Louis. Without understanding, Louis turned around to see the origin of the sound and noise. The outline of something horrible was visible, surrounded by light. Something with an unnatural body. Something with grotesque ears. Something with fangs. Something that disappeared as the refrigerator behind it closed.
The light which faded previously began to take focus once again, blinding Louis as he attempted to squint. He closed them immediately as he began to take control of his feelings. He felt straps bound his arms and legs. The leather had become wet with perspiration, yet although he attempted, he could not unbind himself. He heard someone across the room muttering in foreign tongue. Sounds of scratching, and tools being tossed were audible. Something kept him from opening his eyes, he feared what would appear. Rather then being forced to eventually, he opted to do the horrible deed himself. Opening them, he shuttered. All around him were the most horrifying of tools. Louis could feel his heart rate increase as gazed upon drills of various lengths, hammers with dozens of different heads, and vials with liquids of every color within the spectrum collected inside them. Skulls adorned the wall on his right, one after another. There mouths were set in a ghastly smile, a hue of green was shining on their rough appearance. Louis started to wonder who the owner of these horrible tools was. Unfocusing his eyes, Louis noticed a drill was aimed directly at him, looking him the eye no less then two inches away from him. Thoughts from the darkest parts of mind began to creep up, scenarios with the most disturbing outcomes as well. Closing his eyes again, Louis feared what was going to become of him. A sharp pain came upon his cheek as a Doctor slapped him. Jerking his head to the left, the Doctor grasped Louis head and forced him to look at the picture from the beach. Looking at it, the Doctor pointed at something behind his daughter in the bottom left hand corner of the picture. A horrible realization hit Louis as he began to piece together why the picture had been so important to the enemy. In the picture was Louis’ radio equipment adorning the typing Military camo. The enemy now knew who he was.
“We know. Now, you will begin to explain the codes. Don’t act like you can’t translate them either, we know code talkers’ jobs.” the doctor scoffed in a slight foreign accent. Although Louis realized the horrible position he was in and that he was at the mercy of his captor, fear as well as instinct kept his mouth shut. Although he had convinced himself on what he was going to do, constant thoughts of what was going to happen kept popping into his head. Disillusioned, Louis began to take himself mentally away from the situation. Eyes dull, as well as his mind, Louis steeled himself for what was to come. His eyes swayed from the doctor, as he turned away and began to mess around with his utensils, as well as the drill which was positioned so close to his eyes. The Doctor turned around, facing Louis. In his right hand was a knife.
“This is what must be done? So be it.”
Bloodied and battered Louis was slipping into a state of near death. His tongue was swollen and he craved water. His stomach was as empty as the abyss with hunger. His mind was beginning to turn inside out. His time spent in the Doctor’s office was beginning to be to much for him. Louis’ vision was beginning to fade, he knew that he was going to crack. Louis could no longer see the Doctor’s eyes, with his head slumped at an angle, all he saw was the reflection of the light off the Doctor’s glasses. The clock on the wall which up until had been unnoticed begun to tick-tock loudly. An almost dream like scene lay before louis. With every second that passed, it felt like an eternity for Louis. Cuts adorned his body, drill which was aimed at his eye, was only a trick. Instead, the doctor had saved it for something more “special,” as put it. Although there was previously a nub where his arm ahd been amputated, now there was a collective of gaping holes. Taking effort to look away from the doctor’s glasses, he began to scan down his arm. Held in a clenched fist was a syringe. Louis’ mind began to ponder what could be the purpose of it. He began to clench his fists and flex his legs in anticipation. The skulls on the wall began to stare at him. Posters of human anatomy that adorned the wall were also apart of this horrible audience. All eyes were on him, their was a show about to take place and the audience watched in eager anticipation. The star of this twisted sitcom was Louis himself.
‘This. This is it, this is what’s going to make you talk. Any efforts to resist will be futile, I assure you,” he told Louis as he began to pace towards him. He continued, “Your mind will be rendered nearly useless after less then hour, so, I’m going to be making you talk fast.” The Doctor placed the needle near Louis’ neck. His voiced seemed to boom and echo off the walls around him. “You will not be missed.” he laughingly whispered. TIme stood still. Louis only had a feint idea of what was to come. He could feel the presence of the doctor but could not completely see him, the light above blocked all definite vision. But the needle itself could not be seen at all. The needle, made of fine metal was only millimeters away.
Louis was plunged into a world of darkness once again. Stuck within the confines of his own mind, he was lost. He attempted to give explanations of his sudden transitioning. Initially unaware of what had become of him, he soon became very aware. Something moved towards him cumbersomely. As moments began to pass by, each one resulting into another bulky step, Louis’ thoughts which had only seconds ago been logical, began to degrade into a sheer state of terror. Stumblingly, Louis began to make his way away from the sounds in front of him. But as he began to quicken his pace, so did the noises behind him. As Louis began to start running, the sudden fear of being pounced upon by the darkness itself began to ravage him. Where were the steps? Louis knew that he had descended down to this hell from somewhere, but the location of them pervaded them. He could hear the breathing of the beast behind him and he knew that stopping was not an option. When Louis’ foot made contact with the elevated stair, he lost balance, flying face first into them. At his dismay, the beast grabbed him by the legs and attempted to drag him back into the darkness, back to the place which would be the end of him. With all his might, louis attempted to kick in desperation at the beast. Making contact with that dreaded arm, Louis broke his grip and began making his way back up the stairs. The vertical assent seemed to take forever, the steps themselves began to multiply. With sheer effort, he forced himself up them. After what seemed a life time, Louis made it to the door. As he reached for the door handle, it was locked. Stupefied and in a state of awe, he stood in place. Bending down to the keyhole, he looked through. At the moment he made eye contact with the person on the other side, Louis had the wind knocked out of him as he was swept off his feet by the beast, which tore him away to the place where light did not shine. Louis hands grinded on each step, leaving fingernails behind.
His body shook, the walls rattled. Reality itself began to shake. He couldn’t open his eyes, for he lacked the willpower to do so. As his sense began to fully take shape, he could no longer feel the constant feeling of his restraints. With a thought, Louis woozily stood up. The room rattled again, this time nearly causing him to fall. Stumbling, Louis caught himself with his good arm. As if he were reliving it again, his mind acknowledged his handicap once more. An oddity of some sort occurred in the corner of his eye. Looking over, he saw something standing and staring at him. Louis was making eye contact with something horrible. It was the beast from the memory which haunted him. In it’s hands was the syringe which had only previously been in his veins. Taking a step forward, Louis felt as if he were in a temporary state of paralyzation. The colors around him shifted in hues and brightness. The vibrancy of the ancient lighting that illuminated the room began to take on hues of red. Moving forward once more, the room began to take on the shape of the basement that Louis kept finding himself in. For the first time, the beast took notice of him.
“What are you doing? How did you get u-” but the beast’s foreign accent was silenced as Louis began to grip his throat. Holding tight and venting his anger, Louis watched as the beast began to shift in his hands. Only moments ago Louis felt no strength in his body, but now he was able to hold the beast in place with one arm. In anger, Louis tried to put his other hand around the beast’s throat. Although he first imagined gripping it’s throat, he soon noticed it had returned. He visualized the phantom arm, but was unsure if it was truly there or not. The beast’s face soon had glasses, the red lights around him reflected off of them, hiding it’s horrible pupils. As Louis began to loosen his grip, another vibration shook reality, shifting the room once more. Louis now noticed the door which lead out of the room. Releasing his grip and stumbling towards it, he tried to open the door. For some reason, his instinct told him it was locked, but upon turning the handle, it opened. Leaving the room which had served as his place of torture, he was now welcomed by a dank and damp hallway. Closing the door behind himself, he began to run down the corridor with full speed. Although his previous surge of adrenaline and energy was beginning to lessen, something urged him to continue. On the walls were signs with arrows, but the words on them were no more then mere lines. Louis once again felt the paranoia that he was placed in a test, as if the enemy had planned out all what was happening. Sprinting, in mid-lunge, someone sprinted by him, causing Louis to stumble into a ladder which he almost passed up. Looking down the hallway, he saw his aunt hysterically running towards the torture room. Stunned, Louis refused to allow her to pass by again. “It wasn’t my fault” Louis yelled at the top of his lungs. Her hysterical screaming now turned to a horrible moaning. Turning away, he grabbed the ladder, and he slowly forced himself upwards, compensating for his handicap. He looked down once more. Stunned by what he saw, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Beneath him, the floor was nonexistent, instead replaced by pure blackness. Refusing to experience the darkness which had been his reality for so long, Louis began making his way up to the next hall way, towards light. Reaching the top of the ladder which had just saved him, he turned right down the new hall way. As he ran, he took note of the walls. The cracks in between each brick seemed to be leaking smoke. Soon, Louis reach another wall, it seemed as if he had hit a dead end. Louis was in a stupor, he knew that soon he would no longer be able to push himself. When a door on the wall opened and an explosion of flames flew from it, Louis stumbled backwards. With a scream, a being made of fire escaped the door, screaming at him in a tone of agonizing pain. The sudden thought of being engulfed within the hellish flames, urged Louis to make his way to where he had previously came. But as quickly as he ran, the flame and the sudden surge of smoke followed him. Passing the ladder which he had climbed, he continued down the hallway. Soon, the ladder too was engulfed in the burning flames, the damp feeling which the hallway had only previously felt like, now was replaced with an intolerable heat. The heat felt like it was burning Louis from the inside out, but he was completely unable to sweat. Approaching another ladder, Louis was almost sweeped away by the flames once again. But as much as he tried, Louis could not move fast enough up the ladder, his handicap now more so then ever was failing him. With the greatest of efforts, he inched himself up. Peeking beneath him, only smoke greeted him. New beings ran beneath him, all screaming. They ran in disorganized patterns, trampling each other. Some attempted to quench the oncoming flames. But they made no effect. As Louis slowly began reaching the top, the flames below claimed new victims. The beings themselves took on the form of the fire, strengthening it. Grabbing the last part of the ladder which would grant him escape, Louis looked down once more. Rapidly, the ladder itself began to disappear, falling into the abysmal darkness which wanted so dearly to claim Louis for itself. Shimming himself up the last few inches, Louis dragged himself away from the ladder. With sudden force that startled the disillusioned Louis, flames exploded from the place that he had just ascended. Crawling once more down a final hallway, Louis moved slowly towards a final door. As the hall began to fill with smoke, each crawl was a struggle for life and sanity for Louis. Foot by foot, meter by meter, Louis crawled towards the exit. The walls took on the forms of all those that Louis had met in the military, fought alongside with, and all those that he had killed. The proximity from the wall increased and decreased with each movement. Choked by smoke, Louis began to cough. This phenomenon raised no question in Louis’ head, he resented it instead. He didn’t look in their eyes, he was ashamed of hat he had done. The faces beckoned him to talk, to make conversation. His eyes burned, but didn’t water. Oxygen rapidly became scarce, there wasn’t enough for Louis to breath.
The face of the doctor, his reflecting glasses tilted at an angle, appeared on the wall and whispered, “I forgive you.” as louis crawled past without acknowledging him.
The face of the very distraught aunt appeared on the wall and whispered,
“I forgive you” as Louis who at the sound of her voice, flinched and looked away.
The face of the beast, grisly as it was appeared and growled,
“I forgive you.” as Louis stopped to look at him. They were face to face. As if accepting Louis, the beast’s face contorted back into the stone wall in which he was made. Louis could no longer breath. The world around him began to shift and contort into darkness. Soon the only thing visible in Louis’ squinting burning eyes was the exit. The voices now silenced, Louis urged himself to escape. Crumbled on the floor, straining to survive, Louis reached the door. Now at his weakest, Louis was closest to escape. The flames which had been stalking him through out this nightmare began to make their presence known once more. Louis’ fear of the darkness which wanted him to itself was only matched by the dry, burning flames which devoured others into it’s being. Propping himself up one knee required what seemed monstrous strength. Louis coughed and gasped for breath. He could no longer think properly. Getting on the other knee required nearly every muscle in his body. His hand on the hinge, Louis used his final bit of strength to pull it open. As it fully opened, in an instant, Louis was once again engulfed by the blinding light. Darkness’ enemy appeared, fighting it back. Basking in the light, Louis breathed fresh air for the first time in what seemed a life time. As this moment past, Louis felt an unnatural surge of heat push behind and past him, ejecting him forward and through the air, sending him into the sky. The last thing Louis saw was the Sun high in the air as it was beginning to dawn. The last sensation he felt was the joy of feeling it’s warmth on himself. His last thought was of the darkness of which he had finally escaped.
EPILOGUE
As the Navy began it’s bombardment of the Japanese Fortress Island, they were were met with mild air force resistance, as well as small arms fire. Quickly decimating the fortress’es’ defenses with heavy artillery, the navy unknowingly set the fortress ablaze, killing under two-hundred men inside. As the invasion force arrived on the island, they began assaulting the base, taking prisoners by surprise, and quickly gaining control of the fortress. The fortress’ initial size was greatly underestimated, the miles of underground tunnels beneath the fortress had not been accounted by the original intelligence. Of the initial scouting/invasion force, only one survived. Due to the initial forces cover being blown, they were quickly dispersed by enemy aircraft. None of the dead’s bodies were recovered. However the only soldier of the initial force which survived was nearly overlooked. On the verge of death several yards away from the base, his body was only recovered after a soldier noticed that the the foliage had been broken by something. It would seem that the survivor had been put through severe experimental torture, even having his left arm amputated for some unknown reason, although there are already several theories behind this. The survivor somehow orchestrated his own escape, making his way to the top of the fortress. Upon opening the door to escape, he was promptly dispatched by a burst of flames that escaped the enclosed hallway when it was opened. He has been relocated to the closet ship where he being treated for third degree burns and several dozen lesions on his body. Because of this, we have been unable to positively identify him, he was nude when we found him. Results have shown that due to prolonged lack of oxygen he has become close to brain dead. However, it seems there is still hope. Although he is in some kind of mentally induced coma, he has shown some simple signs of communication. The most obvious being of course, when he is left in the doctor’s room, alone, after the doctors have turned out the lights.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
English honors 2
Scottie Watson
Mrs. Koch
Honors English 2
The Beast
There are some things in the world that over time that humanity as a whole begins to forget and let slip from it’s collective mind. Our species did not start out as the large, sophisticated entities that we know today. As history would tell it, we started out as small warring tribes all across the globe, tribes would rise, then fall in a continuous circle of death and savagery. But somewhere along the line, a tribe decided to take a different approach to survival. These were the ancestors and the forerunners of modern society. A question that arose in my head was, how hard would it take for society to revert back to what it once was? The Lord of the Flies was evidence that it would not take long at all. But one element of the story took my thought and made me invest time into it, The Beast. What is it? How did it manifest? Did it exist in our world? Or was it merely a figmentation of the author’s imagination? With time I’ve began to come up with answers to these questions and although I have my answers, one can come up with many different conclusions on what exactly the Beast is. But no one answer is wronger then the other.
As the boys spent more and more time on the Island, they slowly began to change into corrupted versions of their originals selves. In the beginning, they were normal children. They played, they ate, they enjoyed the shore. As time began to drag on though, thoughts of never escaping began to take root in their young minds. As they began to turn more savage, their hair grew and their humanity slowly went. But in the center of it all, in the backs of everyone’s mind, old and young, a monster loomed. In their sleep they saw it and at night, anything and everything could be the result of the Beast’s existence. Unbeknownst to them thought, the beast was simply their imagination, fear incarnate. It was evident that towards the end of the story, Jack used the beast in a way to keep power over the other children, promising them protection if they left Ralph’s tribe and came to his. Had the boys rationalized the situation, pondered the fact that no one had actually ever come into contact with the beast, then they could have come to the conclusion that no such monster existed. But instead the Beast gained more and more power as time went on, existing in the boy’s irrational fear, one which grew like a flame thanks to the boy’s sacrifices and dances to the animal. It was born as the result of a single little boy claiming he had seen a “beastie”. Had it not been for this child, then the island may have continued on in civilized thought and manner. But in a way, he only contributed a part of the path that lead the boys to destruction. I believe that the Beast was a sub conscience excuse for all the boys to revert back into the savages that their ancestors struggled to come out of. Thanks to the fatal seduction that all humans suffer from, to let one’s self to become an animal, then the boys would have never allowed a thought, an idea, take such a powerful existence in their minds.
One must also ask one’s self, could such a beast or situation happen in our own world? One must simply look to humanity’s past. The United Kingdom was once a collection of nations of power and wealth; as well as poverty and death. Although all countries have seen both of these in some way, the United Kingdom is unique because both of these extremes often occurred at the same time. Parts of England were inhabited by nobility, but from a stones throw length away, peasants had to survive from day to day. They did this by any means, stealing, robbing, even killing to get the food and nutrients they desperately needed. I think it not a far off thought that if one were to be stranded in isolation away from society, they would slowly begin to morph into a creature of their former selves, eventually embracing what they’ve become. One cannot be sure of this, unless one has been through the situation themselves.
It takes very thought at all for one to come to the conclusion that the Beast is in fact a real thing in many ways, an entity that can pop up into anyone’s mind. A monster that can destroy any group caught unaware. The Beast can make one revert into an animal, one that steals, hunts, kills, and anything else deemed by society as “brutish.” Look into yourself, what in this world do you really desire? Is it something good, one that benefits humanity as a whole? On that all can benefit from? More likely then not, it won’t be. Be honest, is it something frowned upon? Something malicious or unreightuous in nature? Is it something beastly?
Mrs. Koch
Honors English 2
The Beast
There are some things in the world that over time that humanity as a whole begins to forget and let slip from it’s collective mind. Our species did not start out as the large, sophisticated entities that we know today. As history would tell it, we started out as small warring tribes all across the globe, tribes would rise, then fall in a continuous circle of death and savagery. But somewhere along the line, a tribe decided to take a different approach to survival. These were the ancestors and the forerunners of modern society. A question that arose in my head was, how hard would it take for society to revert back to what it once was? The Lord of the Flies was evidence that it would not take long at all. But one element of the story took my thought and made me invest time into it, The Beast. What is it? How did it manifest? Did it exist in our world? Or was it merely a figmentation of the author’s imagination? With time I’ve began to come up with answers to these questions and although I have my answers, one can come up with many different conclusions on what exactly the Beast is. But no one answer is wronger then the other.
As the boys spent more and more time on the Island, they slowly began to change into corrupted versions of their originals selves. In the beginning, they were normal children. They played, they ate, they enjoyed the shore. As time began to drag on though, thoughts of never escaping began to take root in their young minds. As they began to turn more savage, their hair grew and their humanity slowly went. But in the center of it all, in the backs of everyone’s mind, old and young, a monster loomed. In their sleep they saw it and at night, anything and everything could be the result of the Beast’s existence. Unbeknownst to them thought, the beast was simply their imagination, fear incarnate. It was evident that towards the end of the story, Jack used the beast in a way to keep power over the other children, promising them protection if they left Ralph’s tribe and came to his. Had the boys rationalized the situation, pondered the fact that no one had actually ever come into contact with the beast, then they could have come to the conclusion that no such monster existed. But instead the Beast gained more and more power as time went on, existing in the boy’s irrational fear, one which grew like a flame thanks to the boy’s sacrifices and dances to the animal. It was born as the result of a single little boy claiming he had seen a “beastie”. Had it not been for this child, then the island may have continued on in civilized thought and manner. But in a way, he only contributed a part of the path that lead the boys to destruction. I believe that the Beast was a sub conscience excuse for all the boys to revert back into the savages that their ancestors struggled to come out of. Thanks to the fatal seduction that all humans suffer from, to let one’s self to become an animal, then the boys would have never allowed a thought, an idea, take such a powerful existence in their minds.
One must also ask one’s self, could such a beast or situation happen in our own world? One must simply look to humanity’s past. The United Kingdom was once a collection of nations of power and wealth; as well as poverty and death. Although all countries have seen both of these in some way, the United Kingdom is unique because both of these extremes often occurred at the same time. Parts of England were inhabited by nobility, but from a stones throw length away, peasants had to survive from day to day. They did this by any means, stealing, robbing, even killing to get the food and nutrients they desperately needed. I think it not a far off thought that if one were to be stranded in isolation away from society, they would slowly begin to morph into a creature of their former selves, eventually embracing what they’ve become. One cannot be sure of this, unless one has been through the situation themselves.
It takes very thought at all for one to come to the conclusion that the Beast is in fact a real thing in many ways, an entity that can pop up into anyone’s mind. A monster that can destroy any group caught unaware. The Beast can make one revert into an animal, one that steals, hunts, kills, and anything else deemed by society as “brutish.” Look into yourself, what in this world do you really desire? Is it something good, one that benefits humanity as a whole? On that all can benefit from? More likely then not, it won’t be. Be honest, is it something frowned upon? Something malicious or unreightuous in nature? Is it something beastly?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Math paper
Math, The Constant Tool
By Scott Watson
Although it can be hard to see how math is used in everyday life, it’s actually one of the few tools that a person will employ their entire life span. Cooking, construction, and taking medicines all include mathematics. Some forms of math are much more common then others. For example, addition and subtraction are used much more than complex algebraic equations. But this does not mean that any form of math is more important than another. All branches of mathematics are equally important, each having it’s own job. I believe in my future I will constantly be doing mental math, obviously I will employ mathematics for the rest of my education, but even when it finishes, I’m still going to need it. Aristotle once said, “There are things which seem incredible to most men who have not studied mathematics.” Truly, one who is not well versed in math is bound to be stumped by simple quotients and equations, but someone who is educated will see opportunities instead of problems. Not only do I want to be prepared for the future and it’s trials, I expect myself not only to be able to answer them, but to exceed. Only through mathematics will I achieve my goal.
By Scott Watson
Although it can be hard to see how math is used in everyday life, it’s actually one of the few tools that a person will employ their entire life span. Cooking, construction, and taking medicines all include mathematics. Some forms of math are much more common then others. For example, addition and subtraction are used much more than complex algebraic equations. But this does not mean that any form of math is more important than another. All branches of mathematics are equally important, each having it’s own job. I believe in my future I will constantly be doing mental math, obviously I will employ mathematics for the rest of my education, but even when it finishes, I’m still going to need it. Aristotle once said, “There are things which seem incredible to most men who have not studied mathematics.” Truly, one who is not well versed in math is bound to be stumped by simple quotients and equations, but someone who is educated will see opportunities instead of problems. Not only do I want to be prepared for the future and it’s trials, I expect myself not only to be able to answer them, but to exceed. Only through mathematics will I achieve my goal.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Violent Video Games in Society
Scott Watson
Mrs. Henderson
English Honors 1
May 8, 2011
Violent Video Games in Society:
A Teenage Gamer’s Experience
At school two children are playing on the playground. The two start talking bout their favorite video game and soon, are acting out their favorite parts of it. An adult sees their behavior, misinterpreting their actions for fighting, and they are both disciplined for it. Upon explaining their actions, the video game is immediately put into question as to whether or not it has taught the children inappropriate behavior and also if they should be allowed access to it. The ESRB (Electronic Software Review Board) would restrict children from playing violent video games, but I however oppose this. I say that many violent video games not only educates children, but also invokes creativity within a child’s mind.
To begin with, many violent video games can educate a child in different ways. Various World War 2 theme video games teach children about the conditions the US Military went through in the early 1940’s, as well as demonstrating the geographic differences between Europe and the Pacific. Some games teach the importance of teamwork, such as in Left 4 Dead, a zombie theme video game where several players much and support each other and by doing so ultimately lead the team as a whole to survival. But on the flip side, it also shows the consequences of lack of teamwork, showing the chaos and destruction that can befall them. The ESRB would oppose my views and say that video games based on war train and teach children how to kill another human being, as well as glorifying was as a whole. They would also say that children do not recognize the teamwork involved in video games due to the amount of violence they contain, as well as a general lack of maturity in the average child. I argue these claims, I believe that the observant of military coordination and action benefits children by teaching them basic self-defense with a weapon, but also showing how grueling taking another’s life. It’s been demonstrated time and time again that anyone who has acted out violently and blamed video games for their actions usually have psychological problems. When this is the case, video games are in no solely to blame. To the ESRB’s other claim, I believe that although it may be difficult for children to recognize teamwork at times, teamwork is constantly a major factor of their gaming experience. Without it, they would never be able to succeed and achieve their goals within the game. Even with a large lack of maturity, a child will realize the benefits of teamwork through trial and error, eventually realizing that without it, they are bound to fail.
My second argument is that different video games can promote creativity within a child’s mind. Half Life 2, a sci-fi theme video game with violent elements mixed into it faces the player with constant environmental and psychological puzzles. Only through straining their minds can a player pass these trials. In Fable 3, a video game in which the play must rise up and conduct a military Coup d’état to overthrow a tyrannical kind, the player must balance how he rules his kingdom after the coup is successful. Sometimes, improvising and stretching the kingdom’s gold reserve is the only way to keep the kingdom afloat. Failure to do so results in the downward spiral of the country. The ESRB claims that children are unable to benefit from puzzles within violent video games, explaining that violence shrouds and destroys any benefits that mind could gain. In opposition to this, I claim that while violence is occasionally the dominant them in puzzle oriented games, the violence itself cannot dissipate the benefits from solving puzzles. More often than not, situations that require the player to solve a problem include no violence. Taking a break from it, the game then allows the player time to solve the puzzles without being preoccupied with violence.
In conclusion, the benefits of violent video games have been demonstrated time and time gain. Regardless of age, young players to elderly players can be educated and have their creativity tested, often both of these happening at the same time. I predict that within ten years, any regard given to the ESRB will be discarded and will become considered obsolete due to irrelevant standards. To end, i ask all those who feel that the ESRB lack the ability to rate video games in a relevant and helpful way should not only ignore them, but also to tell other’s your beliefs. Children today are exposed to so much, video games can be on of the only beneficial things to them. Who has the right to take that away?
Mrs. Henderson
English Honors 1
May 8, 2011
Violent Video Games in Society:
A Teenage Gamer’s Experience
At school two children are playing on the playground. The two start talking bout their favorite video game and soon, are acting out their favorite parts of it. An adult sees their behavior, misinterpreting their actions for fighting, and they are both disciplined for it. Upon explaining their actions, the video game is immediately put into question as to whether or not it has taught the children inappropriate behavior and also if they should be allowed access to it. The ESRB (Electronic Software Review Board) would restrict children from playing violent video games, but I however oppose this. I say that many violent video games not only educates children, but also invokes creativity within a child’s mind.
To begin with, many violent video games can educate a child in different ways. Various World War 2 theme video games teach children about the conditions the US Military went through in the early 1940’s, as well as demonstrating the geographic differences between Europe and the Pacific. Some games teach the importance of teamwork, such as in Left 4 Dead, a zombie theme video game where several players much and support each other and by doing so ultimately lead the team as a whole to survival. But on the flip side, it also shows the consequences of lack of teamwork, showing the chaos and destruction that can befall them. The ESRB would oppose my views and say that video games based on war train and teach children how to kill another human being, as well as glorifying was as a whole. They would also say that children do not recognize the teamwork involved in video games due to the amount of violence they contain, as well as a general lack of maturity in the average child. I argue these claims, I believe that the observant of military coordination and action benefits children by teaching them basic self-defense with a weapon, but also showing how grueling taking another’s life. It’s been demonstrated time and time again that anyone who has acted out violently and blamed video games for their actions usually have psychological problems. When this is the case, video games are in no solely to blame. To the ESRB’s other claim, I believe that although it may be difficult for children to recognize teamwork at times, teamwork is constantly a major factor of their gaming experience. Without it, they would never be able to succeed and achieve their goals within the game. Even with a large lack of maturity, a child will realize the benefits of teamwork through trial and error, eventually realizing that without it, they are bound to fail.
My second argument is that different video games can promote creativity within a child’s mind. Half Life 2, a sci-fi theme video game with violent elements mixed into it faces the player with constant environmental and psychological puzzles. Only through straining their minds can a player pass these trials. In Fable 3, a video game in which the play must rise up and conduct a military Coup d’état to overthrow a tyrannical kind, the player must balance how he rules his kingdom after the coup is successful. Sometimes, improvising and stretching the kingdom’s gold reserve is the only way to keep the kingdom afloat. Failure to do so results in the downward spiral of the country. The ESRB claims that children are unable to benefit from puzzles within violent video games, explaining that violence shrouds and destroys any benefits that mind could gain. In opposition to this, I claim that while violence is occasionally the dominant them in puzzle oriented games, the violence itself cannot dissipate the benefits from solving puzzles. More often than not, situations that require the player to solve a problem include no violence. Taking a break from it, the game then allows the player time to solve the puzzles without being preoccupied with violence.
In conclusion, the benefits of violent video games have been demonstrated time and time gain. Regardless of age, young players to elderly players can be educated and have their creativity tested, often both of these happening at the same time. I predict that within ten years, any regard given to the ESRB will be discarded and will become considered obsolete due to irrelevant standards. To end, i ask all those who feel that the ESRB lack the ability to rate video games in a relevant and helpful way should not only ignore them, but also to tell other’s your beliefs. Children today are exposed to so much, video games can be on of the only beneficial things to them. Who has the right to take that away?
Saturday, May 7, 2011
A Chilling Wind
Unfinished, mildly edited.
A Chilling Wind
by Scott Watson
I remember that week, that unforgettable week. No, there was no remarkable occasion that occurred, nor some amazing event. No, that week was something much more, but yet much quieter, for no one else has experienced the hell that I endured. That week changed me, molded me in ways that I cannot describe, to try would be futile. Thinking of it now sickens me and makes my mind throb. My palms moisten, heart pumps. Oh that week, abysmal hell.
The day before I was introduced to the house, I was shoveling snow from my driveway. A most particular Winter was occurring, record breaking snow fall fell from the heavens. Beautiful at first, but soon I realized how gray the world was around me. One moment a person could enjoy the sight of falling flakes, the next they were being oppressed by speeding hail and cutting ice. Soon I was cursing the skies. As the snow began to pile on the sides of my personal drive, a small Jeep pulled in front of me. Peering out from under my hood, I recognized the owner. Dakota had been a friend of mine since college many years ago. Approaching me, I offered a handshake.
”Dakota! What are you doing out in this snow, the plows haven’t even got out yet.” I inquired.
”You speak as if they’re going to come, funny.” he laughingly replied. With a smile I asked,
“What brings you around?”
“Simple, work.” As I look back on those works now, I nearly laugh at my naive joy. House construction was a temporary job. There usually was never a constant stream of work then, but I’m sure it’s still the same today. I left the field long ago. If only I had left sooner.
I had quit my attempts at a suitable driveway and soon we were both driving to 604 Rosewood Manor, a two story house with extensive termite damage. Bad for the owners, cash for my pocket. Over a set course of one week, we were both to tear out the walls and ceilings of five rooms, failure to do so would result in a loss of a bonus check that Dakota and I planned on splitting. At thirty-five dollars an hour, the loss of the bonus check wouldn’t be that big of a pain. Arriving in the front of the home, it glowed in the evening sun. Although work wouldn’t start for another day, I entered the house with Dakota behind me. Through the door there was a hall way, rooms on both sides. Some were open, others had closed doors. As I walked by each one I peeked inside, various forms of furniture were in each, but all seemed to come from the same style and age. Entering the kitchen we sat down, warming ourselves from the stinging outside freeze which had become characteristic. He and I began to chat about missed time. Dakota had worked with me for a long time on house work, but for a time we hadn’t seen each other. If I’m incorrect, I believe when he pulled up in front of my house that day, it was the first time I saw him in a little over seven months. After an hour or so he stood and said,
“The upstairs is the same layout Ruben, go ahead and check it out. I’m going to give the owner a call.” Leaving the kitchen and continuing to the end of the hall way, I ascended the spiral staircase which led upwards. At the top the scene lain out before me was a pitiful sight. The exact layout which I had such seen prior downstairs was maintained, but instead of having walls containing the rooms, giving each its’ own privacy, the walls were eaten away. Carved, eaten, chipped, and splintered away. Dry wall littered the floor, plaster cast dust up in the air, and wall paper hung from nearly all the walls. The sun shone in from the windows, showering the scene in receding sunlight. Soon it would set, and the Winter cold would assault the home. Examine the roof, I noticed an attic door with a string hanging down. Curiosity creeping in my mind, I pulled on the string, but to no avail. What would I have found on that first day? What wonders or horrors would I have beheld? Sadly, or perhaps for my own good Dakota shouted from below that we should leave before it darkness set in.
The next day I awoke to see outside that snow was once again falling fast from the sky. Going into my kitchen I ignored the bills which laid on the table. With the randomness of home construction and repair, I sometimes had trouble getting by. However, with that new opportunity, I would easily be able to pay those bills which were constantly being flung in my face. I was getting fed up with them. After taking my daily pills, I decided to call Dakota, what problem was there in starting early? The snow wouldn’t be a problem, it was light compared to the previous snows that we had endured. The phone rang and rang. It rang and rang. Going to voicemail, I hung up instead of taking the alternative of leaving a message. I would try later.
I attempted to call him seven times. By this time it was three in the evening. Walking outside to get in my Ford, I nearly slipped on the inch of ice which had formed over night. Gaining my balance, I looked at the ground where I had nearly slipped. What I saw nearly took my breath away. My hearing dulled as if a sonic boom had occurred near my ears, all that sounded was a small ringing in my ear which quickly became a loud piercing whistle. For an instant, an unfathomable quick second, the snow was a hue of red, a grotesque color of blood. It was in a pool, a meter wide, a meter long. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. I was horrified, disturbed. Today I’m still able to understand it, what happened. The ringing in my ears lessened and soon was nothing. Although I could hear the normal sounds of the wind, the occasional thud of snow falling from roofs, my mind stayed in a state of paralysis. I stared at the ground. The sudden wail of a car’s horn rushing by shook me out of my trance.
As I drove to the house, the constant fear of spontaneous visions put me in a state of anxiousness and fear. What next would I see? Demons? Angels? The thought of being put at the mercy of some random event disturbed my mind. The trees that I drove by suddenly had a new slight sense of suspicion about them. Which one would smash my car? Although still slightly scared, logical think soon began to roll. I was prescribed a certain brand of pills because I was plagued by a back injury while on the job. An accident of course but none the less I still was hurt. I started to make excuse up, but they made sense to me. Those pills had some side effects, probably some that I wasn’t even told about. Hallucinations happened all the time to people, it was bound to happen to me sooner or later. As I pulled up to the house though, I knew I wasn’t hallucinating when I saw Dakota’s vehicle in the driveway. That Jeep, poor vehicle. The thought of sends a slight chill up my spine. The snow was piled on top of the hood and roof. How long had it been there?
Entering the house, nothing had changed. I shouted,
”Dakota! Where are you?”
There was no reply, the only response was small bits of dust that fell on my from the ceiling. Taking the same course as last time, I peeked from room to room. The kitchen as well. Dakota was no where. Heading upstairs I expected to see him picking away at the walls.
“Come on you greedy bastard, is it that big of a deal if I get some working hours in too?” As the spiral staircase finally ended and I reached the top, the recently familiar joy of sudden hallucination grasped my conscience and the sight which I now saw truly horrified my being. All around me, the walls had indescribable hieroglyphics and symbols strewn across them, overlapping each, and worst of all, constantly moving left to right. An ever confusing mess of ancient horror unspoken flung in all directions. A scream, a never ending scream escaped my lungs. My mind was instantly besieged by a sensory overload, my temple pounding. The very thought of this alien spectacle makes my pulse increase, and breath quicken. The description given cannot possibly describe the true situation. With a blink of an eye, the symbols disappeared, but also oddly the Sun as well. The light which had previously shown through the windows was instantly snuffed away by the horror lettering. The sudden change in the environment put me in a state of primal fear, fight-or-flight took over. Turning around to face the stair, I stepped down on the first step in a frenzied state. Midway between the step is the last thing i can remember.
Awoken by the sound of a blizzard outside, I was at the bottom of the stairs. I was sore. I couldn’t remember what had happened after I turned for the stairs. Arising from my crumpled state, I pulled myself up using the wall for support. Leaning against the wall, my forehead laying on it, I let out a sigh. Raising my right hand above my head, I began to try to recollect my thoughts. As some time passed, I began to remember the feeling of being pushed, as if by someone. I continued to think when my train of thought was broken. Something had dropped on my head, most likely a leak from the snow outside. Raising my head from the wall, the wall was streaked with blood. A stream was coming down, constant. Looking up, I saw the source.
My thumb had been ripped off, the nub was bleeding profusely. The adrenaline which had been flowing through my veins made me feel no pain. I began to feel lightheaded, the room was spinning. The furniture around me suddenly took on a sinister light. The house itself became a prison to me, it’s walls keeping me in. I keeled over and vomited, I had looked at the floor fresh with my own gore. Over the course of the next few minutes I began to put myself together, but as much as I tried I was unable to control myself. I was alone in this house, outside was a raging blizzard. In my state I noticed that no sunlight was coming through the windows, it couldn’t have been long since I had fallen. I begin to think of ways that my new handicap could be fixed. Childish thoughts began to take over. Getting my phone out with my unwounded hand, I dialed Dakota’s number. Why didn’t I call the police? An ambulance? Why did I have to call Dakota? How would my character today have been effected? Fearing that I would get no signal because of the blizzard, I was happy to hear it ring.
But I was equally disturbed when I heard a ringing come from within the house.
The ringing wailed sharply in the air, the volume was comparable to that of a fog horn. I began to walk throughout the house in a search for the source. Every corner held a new amount of suspicion, every shadow contained an intensity to it. It became obvious that the sound was coming from upstairs, there could be no doubt. Everything in me told me not to go up that dread stair case. My inner being told me of scenarios that could play out with me getting out of the situation by simply avoiding the upstairs. Nothing seemed right about that upper layer. But I denied my own wishes, denied my conscience’s warnings and ignored my inner being’s promises. I have no idea why on that night I denied the logical, instead diving head first into the unknown, the dreaded upper layer. But little did I know of what truly was waiting for me. The shadows fell on corners of the stairs, no light afforded to touch them. I began to ascend the stairs, preparing myself for the onslaught of crippling illusions. My blood streaking the stairwell handles, I stepped to the top of the stairs. The ringing stopped.
Looking around, I saw nothing. A horrendous fog of dust was rising off the floor, the dry wall was deep enough that I was unable to see my own feet. Insulation from the walls covered my shoes. Where was the source of the ringing? From what nonexistent area did it originate? Without taking care to avoid using my crippled hang, I hastily dialed Dakota’s number again. Pushing the buttons as quickly as I could, blood soon covered my phone, drops fell to the floor. I waited for the ringing. How much time passed? A second? Thirty? I waited, the shadows cast from the littered floor sprung unimaginable horrors and malicious beasts all around. I awaited for one of them to strike me down. For my torment to stop, nothing could be worse then the onslaught of fear which besieged me. I had to find Dakota. My heart dropped when I heard the piercing ring. But it didn’t come from within the room. Listening carefully, I realized it was coming from the attic.
I saw the attic door which only the previous day I attempted to open. It hadn’t changed except the string was gone. The ringing continued. The blizzard outside continue to blow in unmatched intensity. Ice formed on the windows, I was truly imprisoned. Looking around, I found a crowbar. How ironic, I was supposed to be working on a house that day. Instead I was using it to find my friend. Why had I not turned back? Why did I continue? Hell has a voice, but you don’t just hear it, you see it. Using the crow bar I slammed it into the door, piercing it and getting a hold of it. Ripping downwards, it folded outward. The ladder was a covered in a disgusting mold, the wood itself rotted away. A deteriorating stench escaped the attic, a feeling of ancient horror swept over my mortal body. The previous wail of the ring now blasted forth from above. My scenes heightened, I was truly horrified. Unwillingly, against my body, I put a hand on the ladder. The wood creaked. I began to climb. Blood dripped downwards, the pitter patter of it splattering against rock was audible. As I reached the top, I was astonished by the unparalleled darkness. I saw nothingness. I saw a perfect glimpse of the abyss, that of which few mortals will be cursed to peer. The ringing had stopped. Using my phone as a small flashlight, I shown it all around me, but to no avail. For a final time I dialed Dakota’s number. If there is a God, why did he not save me? Was there truly nothing in this world that could have stopped from dialing his number? Why? The fear that I experienced as the source of the ringing became apparent was on a whole new tier of what I had felt earlier. The darkest horrors within nightmares are unable to compare to what I saw. The walls themselves peeled apart. Visions of hell, eternal damnation. Streaks of hellfire were all falling all around me, a hellish landscape. A lake of fire, Judas swallowed by the multi-headed beast described in Revelation. Demons flew at me, screaming an ancient and dead language. All around me, the dread hieroglyphics were being spelt out by an invisible hand. But the center of all this, the most abominable sight of all, a monstrous being, giant beyond measure. I stood there, silent in eternal horrifying silence. The being’s eyes glanced at me, and I felt death touch me, cold among the wildfire around me. My skin. My soul. This is the final destination of humanity, the end. The being said in an voice, comparable only to an inferno like death, “HEIL, SERVAO’A.” The monstrous vision haunts me, during the day, at night, in my dreams. In the shadows, at work, in diners. When I day dream, when I think. I am not safe, I have been scared. Where is Dakota?
Dakota’s phone rang, the light of it shined forth. Surrounding it was a pentagram of gore. The walls were covered in a stagnant nonmoving version of the dread language, dripping in blood. A chilling wind came from the entrance to the attic, from below. Where was Dakota?
But the one thing that I can still visualize was the string hanging down from the ceiling.
Tied at the end,
a severed thumb.
END
A Chilling Wind
by Scott Watson
I remember that week, that unforgettable week. No, there was no remarkable occasion that occurred, nor some amazing event. No, that week was something much more, but yet much quieter, for no one else has experienced the hell that I endured. That week changed me, molded me in ways that I cannot describe, to try would be futile. Thinking of it now sickens me and makes my mind throb. My palms moisten, heart pumps. Oh that week, abysmal hell.
The day before I was introduced to the house, I was shoveling snow from my driveway. A most particular Winter was occurring, record breaking snow fall fell from the heavens. Beautiful at first, but soon I realized how gray the world was around me. One moment a person could enjoy the sight of falling flakes, the next they were being oppressed by speeding hail and cutting ice. Soon I was cursing the skies. As the snow began to pile on the sides of my personal drive, a small Jeep pulled in front of me. Peering out from under my hood, I recognized the owner. Dakota had been a friend of mine since college many years ago. Approaching me, I offered a handshake.
”Dakota! What are you doing out in this snow, the plows haven’t even got out yet.” I inquired.
”You speak as if they’re going to come, funny.” he laughingly replied. With a smile I asked,
“What brings you around?”
“Simple, work.” As I look back on those works now, I nearly laugh at my naive joy. House construction was a temporary job. There usually was never a constant stream of work then, but I’m sure it’s still the same today. I left the field long ago. If only I had left sooner.
I had quit my attempts at a suitable driveway and soon we were both driving to 604 Rosewood Manor, a two story house with extensive termite damage. Bad for the owners, cash for my pocket. Over a set course of one week, we were both to tear out the walls and ceilings of five rooms, failure to do so would result in a loss of a bonus check that Dakota and I planned on splitting. At thirty-five dollars an hour, the loss of the bonus check wouldn’t be that big of a pain. Arriving in the front of the home, it glowed in the evening sun. Although work wouldn’t start for another day, I entered the house with Dakota behind me. Through the door there was a hall way, rooms on both sides. Some were open, others had closed doors. As I walked by each one I peeked inside, various forms of furniture were in each, but all seemed to come from the same style and age. Entering the kitchen we sat down, warming ourselves from the stinging outside freeze which had become characteristic. He and I began to chat about missed time. Dakota had worked with me for a long time on house work, but for a time we hadn’t seen each other. If I’m incorrect, I believe when he pulled up in front of my house that day, it was the first time I saw him in a little over seven months. After an hour or so he stood and said,
“The upstairs is the same layout Ruben, go ahead and check it out. I’m going to give the owner a call.” Leaving the kitchen and continuing to the end of the hall way, I ascended the spiral staircase which led upwards. At the top the scene lain out before me was a pitiful sight. The exact layout which I had such seen prior downstairs was maintained, but instead of having walls containing the rooms, giving each its’ own privacy, the walls were eaten away. Carved, eaten, chipped, and splintered away. Dry wall littered the floor, plaster cast dust up in the air, and wall paper hung from nearly all the walls. The sun shone in from the windows, showering the scene in receding sunlight. Soon it would set, and the Winter cold would assault the home. Examine the roof, I noticed an attic door with a string hanging down. Curiosity creeping in my mind, I pulled on the string, but to no avail. What would I have found on that first day? What wonders or horrors would I have beheld? Sadly, or perhaps for my own good Dakota shouted from below that we should leave before it darkness set in.
The next day I awoke to see outside that snow was once again falling fast from the sky. Going into my kitchen I ignored the bills which laid on the table. With the randomness of home construction and repair, I sometimes had trouble getting by. However, with that new opportunity, I would easily be able to pay those bills which were constantly being flung in my face. I was getting fed up with them. After taking my daily pills, I decided to call Dakota, what problem was there in starting early? The snow wouldn’t be a problem, it was light compared to the previous snows that we had endured. The phone rang and rang. It rang and rang. Going to voicemail, I hung up instead of taking the alternative of leaving a message. I would try later.
I attempted to call him seven times. By this time it was three in the evening. Walking outside to get in my Ford, I nearly slipped on the inch of ice which had formed over night. Gaining my balance, I looked at the ground where I had nearly slipped. What I saw nearly took my breath away. My hearing dulled as if a sonic boom had occurred near my ears, all that sounded was a small ringing in my ear which quickly became a loud piercing whistle. For an instant, an unfathomable quick second, the snow was a hue of red, a grotesque color of blood. It was in a pool, a meter wide, a meter long. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. I was horrified, disturbed. Today I’m still able to understand it, what happened. The ringing in my ears lessened and soon was nothing. Although I could hear the normal sounds of the wind, the occasional thud of snow falling from roofs, my mind stayed in a state of paralysis. I stared at the ground. The sudden wail of a car’s horn rushing by shook me out of my trance.
As I drove to the house, the constant fear of spontaneous visions put me in a state of anxiousness and fear. What next would I see? Demons? Angels? The thought of being put at the mercy of some random event disturbed my mind. The trees that I drove by suddenly had a new slight sense of suspicion about them. Which one would smash my car? Although still slightly scared, logical think soon began to roll. I was prescribed a certain brand of pills because I was plagued by a back injury while on the job. An accident of course but none the less I still was hurt. I started to make excuse up, but they made sense to me. Those pills had some side effects, probably some that I wasn’t even told about. Hallucinations happened all the time to people, it was bound to happen to me sooner or later. As I pulled up to the house though, I knew I wasn’t hallucinating when I saw Dakota’s vehicle in the driveway. That Jeep, poor vehicle. The thought of sends a slight chill up my spine. The snow was piled on top of the hood and roof. How long had it been there?
Entering the house, nothing had changed. I shouted,
”Dakota! Where are you?”
There was no reply, the only response was small bits of dust that fell on my from the ceiling. Taking the same course as last time, I peeked from room to room. The kitchen as well. Dakota was no where. Heading upstairs I expected to see him picking away at the walls.
“Come on you greedy bastard, is it that big of a deal if I get some working hours in too?” As the spiral staircase finally ended and I reached the top, the recently familiar joy of sudden hallucination grasped my conscience and the sight which I now saw truly horrified my being. All around me, the walls had indescribable hieroglyphics and symbols strewn across them, overlapping each, and worst of all, constantly moving left to right. An ever confusing mess of ancient horror unspoken flung in all directions. A scream, a never ending scream escaped my lungs. My mind was instantly besieged by a sensory overload, my temple pounding. The very thought of this alien spectacle makes my pulse increase, and breath quicken. The description given cannot possibly describe the true situation. With a blink of an eye, the symbols disappeared, but also oddly the Sun as well. The light which had previously shown through the windows was instantly snuffed away by the horror lettering. The sudden change in the environment put me in a state of primal fear, fight-or-flight took over. Turning around to face the stair, I stepped down on the first step in a frenzied state. Midway between the step is the last thing i can remember.
Awoken by the sound of a blizzard outside, I was at the bottom of the stairs. I was sore. I couldn’t remember what had happened after I turned for the stairs. Arising from my crumpled state, I pulled myself up using the wall for support. Leaning against the wall, my forehead laying on it, I let out a sigh. Raising my right hand above my head, I began to try to recollect my thoughts. As some time passed, I began to remember the feeling of being pushed, as if by someone. I continued to think when my train of thought was broken. Something had dropped on my head, most likely a leak from the snow outside. Raising my head from the wall, the wall was streaked with blood. A stream was coming down, constant. Looking up, I saw the source.
My thumb had been ripped off, the nub was bleeding profusely. The adrenaline which had been flowing through my veins made me feel no pain. I began to feel lightheaded, the room was spinning. The furniture around me suddenly took on a sinister light. The house itself became a prison to me, it’s walls keeping me in. I keeled over and vomited, I had looked at the floor fresh with my own gore. Over the course of the next few minutes I began to put myself together, but as much as I tried I was unable to control myself. I was alone in this house, outside was a raging blizzard. In my state I noticed that no sunlight was coming through the windows, it couldn’t have been long since I had fallen. I begin to think of ways that my new handicap could be fixed. Childish thoughts began to take over. Getting my phone out with my unwounded hand, I dialed Dakota’s number. Why didn’t I call the police? An ambulance? Why did I have to call Dakota? How would my character today have been effected? Fearing that I would get no signal because of the blizzard, I was happy to hear it ring.
But I was equally disturbed when I heard a ringing come from within the house.
The ringing wailed sharply in the air, the volume was comparable to that of a fog horn. I began to walk throughout the house in a search for the source. Every corner held a new amount of suspicion, every shadow contained an intensity to it. It became obvious that the sound was coming from upstairs, there could be no doubt. Everything in me told me not to go up that dread stair case. My inner being told me of scenarios that could play out with me getting out of the situation by simply avoiding the upstairs. Nothing seemed right about that upper layer. But I denied my own wishes, denied my conscience’s warnings and ignored my inner being’s promises. I have no idea why on that night I denied the logical, instead diving head first into the unknown, the dreaded upper layer. But little did I know of what truly was waiting for me. The shadows fell on corners of the stairs, no light afforded to touch them. I began to ascend the stairs, preparing myself for the onslaught of crippling illusions. My blood streaking the stairwell handles, I stepped to the top of the stairs. The ringing stopped.
Looking around, I saw nothing. A horrendous fog of dust was rising off the floor, the dry wall was deep enough that I was unable to see my own feet. Insulation from the walls covered my shoes. Where was the source of the ringing? From what nonexistent area did it originate? Without taking care to avoid using my crippled hang, I hastily dialed Dakota’s number again. Pushing the buttons as quickly as I could, blood soon covered my phone, drops fell to the floor. I waited for the ringing. How much time passed? A second? Thirty? I waited, the shadows cast from the littered floor sprung unimaginable horrors and malicious beasts all around. I awaited for one of them to strike me down. For my torment to stop, nothing could be worse then the onslaught of fear which besieged me. I had to find Dakota. My heart dropped when I heard the piercing ring. But it didn’t come from within the room. Listening carefully, I realized it was coming from the attic.
I saw the attic door which only the previous day I attempted to open. It hadn’t changed except the string was gone. The ringing continued. The blizzard outside continue to blow in unmatched intensity. Ice formed on the windows, I was truly imprisoned. Looking around, I found a crowbar. How ironic, I was supposed to be working on a house that day. Instead I was using it to find my friend. Why had I not turned back? Why did I continue? Hell has a voice, but you don’t just hear it, you see it. Using the crow bar I slammed it into the door, piercing it and getting a hold of it. Ripping downwards, it folded outward. The ladder was a covered in a disgusting mold, the wood itself rotted away. A deteriorating stench escaped the attic, a feeling of ancient horror swept over my mortal body. The previous wail of the ring now blasted forth from above. My scenes heightened, I was truly horrified. Unwillingly, against my body, I put a hand on the ladder. The wood creaked. I began to climb. Blood dripped downwards, the pitter patter of it splattering against rock was audible. As I reached the top, I was astonished by the unparalleled darkness. I saw nothingness. I saw a perfect glimpse of the abyss, that of which few mortals will be cursed to peer. The ringing had stopped. Using my phone as a small flashlight, I shown it all around me, but to no avail. For a final time I dialed Dakota’s number. If there is a God, why did he not save me? Was there truly nothing in this world that could have stopped from dialing his number? Why? The fear that I experienced as the source of the ringing became apparent was on a whole new tier of what I had felt earlier. The darkest horrors within nightmares are unable to compare to what I saw. The walls themselves peeled apart. Visions of hell, eternal damnation. Streaks of hellfire were all falling all around me, a hellish landscape. A lake of fire, Judas swallowed by the multi-headed beast described in Revelation. Demons flew at me, screaming an ancient and dead language. All around me, the dread hieroglyphics were being spelt out by an invisible hand. But the center of all this, the most abominable sight of all, a monstrous being, giant beyond measure. I stood there, silent in eternal horrifying silence. The being’s eyes glanced at me, and I felt death touch me, cold among the wildfire around me. My skin. My soul. This is the final destination of humanity, the end. The being said in an voice, comparable only to an inferno like death, “HEIL, SERVAO’A.” The monstrous vision haunts me, during the day, at night, in my dreams. In the shadows, at work, in diners. When I day dream, when I think. I am not safe, I have been scared. Where is Dakota?
Dakota’s phone rang, the light of it shined forth. Surrounding it was a pentagram of gore. The walls were covered in a stagnant nonmoving version of the dread language, dripping in blood. A chilling wind came from the entrance to the attic, from below. Where was Dakota?
But the one thing that I can still visualize was the string hanging down from the ceiling.
Tied at the end,
a severed thumb.
END
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Scott Watson
Mrs. Henderson
English Honors 1
March 16, 2011
Hades
In modern times people have a tendency to group the words “Death,” “The Underworld,” and “Hades” all under the same category. These words are usually considered all to be malicious and frightening. While the fact that feelings of dread naturally creep inside many people’s minds at the thought of these words, Hades, the god, was not a truly malevolent being. He was a hardhearted deity whom had many different items, stories, and objects associated with him; Hades also had many names and epithets given to himself. It’s impossible to truly comprehend the King of the Dead without studying much of the Greek mythology written and archived about him.
Before Hades’ personality and duties can be told, one must first understand how the god came into existence and how he was given his responsibilities over the dead. According to Greek mythology, long ago a powerful group of deities called the Titans ruled the universe. The leader of the Titans, Cronus, was the father of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. A prophecy foretold of Cronus being overthrown by his children and out of fear, quickly devoured them after when they were born. Zeus, whom was born in secret to prevent his death, overthrew Cronus as was foretold. With the Titans defeated, the Olympians became the ruling gods with Zeus as their leader. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades all took lots to see what domains they would rule over. In doing this, Hades became the ruler of the underworld, and King of the Dead. Hades quickly set into his role and performed well at it. Whenever someone on Earth died, they entered the Underworld by crossing over the Acheron river. To do this, the deceased had to pay Charon the ferryman one coin. When the dead entered the Underworld, they were forever bound there by Hades. The exit was over the Styx river, but this guarded by the guard dog Cerbeus. Hades didn’t rule alone however, he was aided by others whom he had complete and utter authority over. Those who helped in maintaining the Underworld were allowed to go back and forth between other realms, these are the only exceptions that Hades allowed. If someone attempted to leave his realm, or those who came into the Underworld with the intent to steal souls sent Hades into a rage, his anger was also just as strong for those who attempted to cheat him. Anyone who tried this met a terrible fate. To say that Hades was a harsh god isn’t exactly accurate. He was one of the more just gods in Greek mythology due to the fact he gave truly just punishments to those who came into his realm. After judgment was passed on the dead, Hades punished or rewarded them based on how they lived their lives. Nonetheless, anyone who prayed to him turned their faces when they gave sacrifices in his honor. When a sacrifice was made, black animals were slaughtered, such as sheep or goats. The blood that was offered to Hades would seep into the ground, often in a pit or hole. The Greeks dreaded Hades so much that they avoided saying his name out of fear of drawing his unwanted attention.
Continuing on, Hades had many different items and various names given to him. A great example would be the following. When Cronus reigned, he imprisoned the Cyclopes in the hellish Tartarus, a part of the Underworld reserved to punish the most malevolent of souls. Zeus released the Cyclopes, and in return they rewarded Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades with gifts in the hope that their aid would help the Olympians in defeating the Titans. Hades was rewarded with the helm of invisibility. As the name hints, the helm would make whomever put it on completely invisible. The helm helped Hades and the Olympians greatly in their struggle with the Titans. As the time after the war began to pass, Hades would occasionally loan his helm out to mortals and other gods who needed it. Another symbol often associated with Hades is the guard dog Cerbeus, who guards anyone from escaping the Underworld. It was written that Cerbeus would greet those who enter the Underworld, often times with his tail wagging. But should one attempt to escape, the dog would instantly devour them whole. Cerbeus is usually depicted as having three heads, however Greek mythology contradicts itself when it comes to the exact number of heads on the dog, ranging from one, or two, and up to fifty. Hades was given many euphemisms by the Greeks because of the negative associations with his name. Hades’ name has been substituted with Clymenus, which means notorious. Polydegmon which means “who receives many", and also “the Rich One” due to the fact that the all of the riches of the Earth are underground, giving him ownership over them. But according to Greek tragedian Sophocles, Hades’ title had a much more sinister meaning. Referring to Hades’ nick name as “the Rich One,” he explained, "the gloomy Hades enriches himself with our sighs and our tears.”
Also famous for the numerous amount of stories surrounding him, Hades had great literature written about his punishing of the deceased, how he gained his wife, and of those who came into his realm and attempted to leave it. Hades didn’t rule over the Underworld alone, for he had a wife name Persephone. How he courted was anything but ordinary however for he kidnapped her. The founder-king of Athens,Theseus and the king of Lapiths, Pirthous both pledged to marry daughters of Zeus. Theseus picked Helen, however Pirthous dared to kidnap Persephone, the wife of Hades. They both descended to perform the task but were tricked by Hades who lured them into eating at a feast that he had prepared for them. As the mortals took their seats, snakes coiled and wrapped around their legs, holding the men in place. There they sat for some time. It was only until the Greek hero Heracles saved Theseus while on the final task of his labors, to capture Cerbeus. Pirthous however continued to be held prisoner for eternity as punishment for the attempted capture of Hades’ beloved. While this was hard fate for Pirthous, Hades showed true mercy to only one mortal. Orpheus was an extremely talented musician who lost his wife when she was bitten by a snake. Distraught, Orpheus descended to the Underworld to ask Hades to give his wife a second chance. In a show of mercy, Hades accepted but on one condition. Orpheus was to lead the way back to the surface and his wife would follow behind him. But by no conditions would he be allowed to look back to check on her. Orpheus agreed and began on his way back to the surface and for a while it was working, but soon he began to doubt Hades. Thinking that Hades had tricked him, Orpheus looked back to look at his wife. By doing this, his oath not to look back was broken and his wife was forever stuck in the Underworld.
In conclusion, Hades fit his role as the King of the Dead very well. He was cunning. determined and just in his judgment over the deceased. Some might say that he was an evil deity; others would say that he was the cruelest of gods. But upon truly analyzing the mythology written about him, once comes to the conclusion that he was in fact just, not evil. No matter how he is referred too, the King of the Dead, the Rich One, Ruler of the Underworld, or Hades. The Greeks hit a stroke of mythological genius when they broth Hades into existence, and how could we forget him? We’re reminded of the fact that death is an inevitability, and perhaps one day, we will wall come face to face with the one who rules those have parished.
Bibliography
Homer. The Odyssey. Tans. W. H. D. Rouse. New York: Penguin, 1937. Print.
Kerény, C. The Heroes of the Greeks. Great Britain: Thames, 1978. Print.
Lindemans, Micha F. Encyclopeidia Mythica. March 5, 2004. Web. March 15, 2011.
Mrs. Henderson
English Honors 1
March 16, 2011
Hades
In modern times people have a tendency to group the words “Death,” “The Underworld,” and “Hades” all under the same category. These words are usually considered all to be malicious and frightening. While the fact that feelings of dread naturally creep inside many people’s minds at the thought of these words, Hades, the god, was not a truly malevolent being. He was a hardhearted deity whom had many different items, stories, and objects associated with him; Hades also had many names and epithets given to himself. It’s impossible to truly comprehend the King of the Dead without studying much of the Greek mythology written and archived about him.
Before Hades’ personality and duties can be told, one must first understand how the god came into existence and how he was given his responsibilities over the dead. According to Greek mythology, long ago a powerful group of deities called the Titans ruled the universe. The leader of the Titans, Cronus, was the father of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. A prophecy foretold of Cronus being overthrown by his children and out of fear, quickly devoured them after when they were born. Zeus, whom was born in secret to prevent his death, overthrew Cronus as was foretold. With the Titans defeated, the Olympians became the ruling gods with Zeus as their leader. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades all took lots to see what domains they would rule over. In doing this, Hades became the ruler of the underworld, and King of the Dead. Hades quickly set into his role and performed well at it. Whenever someone on Earth died, they entered the Underworld by crossing over the Acheron river. To do this, the deceased had to pay Charon the ferryman one coin. When the dead entered the Underworld, they were forever bound there by Hades. The exit was over the Styx river, but this guarded by the guard dog Cerbeus. Hades didn’t rule alone however, he was aided by others whom he had complete and utter authority over. Those who helped in maintaining the Underworld were allowed to go back and forth between other realms, these are the only exceptions that Hades allowed. If someone attempted to leave his realm, or those who came into the Underworld with the intent to steal souls sent Hades into a rage, his anger was also just as strong for those who attempted to cheat him. Anyone who tried this met a terrible fate. To say that Hades was a harsh god isn’t exactly accurate. He was one of the more just gods in Greek mythology due to the fact he gave truly just punishments to those who came into his realm. After judgment was passed on the dead, Hades punished or rewarded them based on how they lived their lives. Nonetheless, anyone who prayed to him turned their faces when they gave sacrifices in his honor. When a sacrifice was made, black animals were slaughtered, such as sheep or goats. The blood that was offered to Hades would seep into the ground, often in a pit or hole. The Greeks dreaded Hades so much that they avoided saying his name out of fear of drawing his unwanted attention.
Continuing on, Hades had many different items and various names given to him. A great example would be the following. When Cronus reigned, he imprisoned the Cyclopes in the hellish Tartarus, a part of the Underworld reserved to punish the most malevolent of souls. Zeus released the Cyclopes, and in return they rewarded Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades with gifts in the hope that their aid would help the Olympians in defeating the Titans. Hades was rewarded with the helm of invisibility. As the name hints, the helm would make whomever put it on completely invisible. The helm helped Hades and the Olympians greatly in their struggle with the Titans. As the time after the war began to pass, Hades would occasionally loan his helm out to mortals and other gods who needed it. Another symbol often associated with Hades is the guard dog Cerbeus, who guards anyone from escaping the Underworld. It was written that Cerbeus would greet those who enter the Underworld, often times with his tail wagging. But should one attempt to escape, the dog would instantly devour them whole. Cerbeus is usually depicted as having three heads, however Greek mythology contradicts itself when it comes to the exact number of heads on the dog, ranging from one, or two, and up to fifty. Hades was given many euphemisms by the Greeks because of the negative associations with his name. Hades’ name has been substituted with Clymenus, which means notorious. Polydegmon which means “who receives many", and also “the Rich One” due to the fact that the all of the riches of the Earth are underground, giving him ownership over them. But according to Greek tragedian Sophocles, Hades’ title had a much more sinister meaning. Referring to Hades’ nick name as “the Rich One,” he explained, "the gloomy Hades enriches himself with our sighs and our tears.”
Also famous for the numerous amount of stories surrounding him, Hades had great literature written about his punishing of the deceased, how he gained his wife, and of those who came into his realm and attempted to leave it. Hades didn’t rule over the Underworld alone, for he had a wife name Persephone. How he courted was anything but ordinary however for he kidnapped her. The founder-king of Athens,Theseus and the king of Lapiths, Pirthous both pledged to marry daughters of Zeus. Theseus picked Helen, however Pirthous dared to kidnap Persephone, the wife of Hades. They both descended to perform the task but were tricked by Hades who lured them into eating at a feast that he had prepared for them. As the mortals took their seats, snakes coiled and wrapped around their legs, holding the men in place. There they sat for some time. It was only until the Greek hero Heracles saved Theseus while on the final task of his labors, to capture Cerbeus. Pirthous however continued to be held prisoner for eternity as punishment for the attempted capture of Hades’ beloved. While this was hard fate for Pirthous, Hades showed true mercy to only one mortal. Orpheus was an extremely talented musician who lost his wife when she was bitten by a snake. Distraught, Orpheus descended to the Underworld to ask Hades to give his wife a second chance. In a show of mercy, Hades accepted but on one condition. Orpheus was to lead the way back to the surface and his wife would follow behind him. But by no conditions would he be allowed to look back to check on her. Orpheus agreed and began on his way back to the surface and for a while it was working, but soon he began to doubt Hades. Thinking that Hades had tricked him, Orpheus looked back to look at his wife. By doing this, his oath not to look back was broken and his wife was forever stuck in the Underworld.
In conclusion, Hades fit his role as the King of the Dead very well. He was cunning. determined and just in his judgment over the deceased. Some might say that he was an evil deity; others would say that he was the cruelest of gods. But upon truly analyzing the mythology written about him, once comes to the conclusion that he was in fact just, not evil. No matter how he is referred too, the King of the Dead, the Rich One, Ruler of the Underworld, or Hades. The Greeks hit a stroke of mythological genius when they broth Hades into existence, and how could we forget him? We’re reminded of the fact that death is an inevitability, and perhaps one day, we will wall come face to face with the one who rules those have parished.
Bibliography
Homer. The Odyssey. Tans. W. H. D. Rouse. New York: Penguin, 1937. Print.
Kerény, C. The Heroes of the Greeks. Great Britain: Thames, 1978. Print.
Lindemans, Micha F. Encyclopeidia Mythica. March 5, 2004. Web. March 15, 2011.
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