Short Story Of The New School - 1740 Words

When Mosaic strode into the library, he pushed a pile of books to clear a table, then placed down their tray of elevenses. Gilt, the art teacher, poured out the drinks, while Gentine, the language teacher, shared out a plate of biscuits. Next to her sat Pigeon, the maths and science teacher. After Doctor Pax devoured three hobnobs, he brushed the crumbs from his jumper, pushed his spectacles further along his nose, and then cleared his throat. ‘A-hem! Shall we start? The new school term begins next week and†¦Ã¢â‚¬â„¢ Just then, Harmonie walked into the room. ‘Look, I found this small sprig of flowers in the hallway’ While she passed it around, Doctor Pax found a book called Wild Flowers of Gloriana, and leafed through it until he reached the page†¦show more content†¦Doctor Pax asked through his mask as he wheeled a metal table to the centre of the room. ‘How’s Clemmie?’ Poor little mite slept through the alarm. Since she’s still pale, and if the weather stays fine, I’ll take her outside after lunch. A breath of fresh air will do her the world of good.’ When she put on her mask, she nodded, ‘I’m ready,’ Doctor Pax pressed a red button on the wall. Soon after, the main lights dimmed and a soft white glow centred on the table. A surge of power thundered through the room, and†¦nothing. Sheer silence. Then...a puff of smoke swirled in the air, grew as it spun and twisted, before it settled on the table. Although it was fuzzy to start with, a body emerged from the glow. It was a small baby boy. The baby screamed. It waved his chubby fists in the air, so Matron soothed his brow to calm him down. Next, she placed a small mask over his face and soon he was still. It only took seconds for the anaesthetic to work until he was fast asleep and free from pain so they could begin their work. To start with, Doctor Pax made tiny puncture marks in his skin. Little pinpricks. One at the base of the neck, one at the base of the spine, and three in the wall of the chest area. He carefully fed a narrow wire through each hole which he melded to pressure points. Not a word passed through his lips in this tense few minutes. As he held the wires one by one, he linked them up to a nearby machine. After giving them a final check, heShow MoreRelatedA New Boy By Steph Green887 Words   |  4 Pages A New-Boy’s experience When you think of two inspirational ways to convince someone of a topic, reading books and movies come to mind. This is because they are the ones that are most commonly known because in our day and age either you read about something or your watch something such as the news. In this paper specifically I will be talking about the movie, and short story New Boy written by Steph Green. For those of you who might be wondering what exactly is New Boy, it’s a story about a boyRead MoreTruman Capote Essay1439 Words   |  6 PagesThe short stories of Truman Capote are connected to his childhood experiences in Alabama. Truman capote was an American born writer who wrote non- fiction, short stories, novels and plays. All of his literary works have been perceived as literary classics. The tones of some of his stories are slightly gothic. His most famous short story is Children on Their Birthdays. His work shows the occasional over writing, the twilit Gothic subject matter, and the masochistic uses of horror traditional in theRead MoreJD Salinger Research Paper1671 Words   |  7 PagesSalinger only published one novel, he wrote several short stories for magazines like The New Yorker and Story. A large number of these stories went on to be compiled into books such as Nine Stories, Franny and Zooey, and Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction. Despite the fact Salinger has not published any stories in over 45 years, his reputation is still quite popular. Salingers stories are studied in high schools and colleges, introducing thousands of individuals toRead MoreAnalysis Of The Purple Jar By Maria Edgeworth1157 Words   |  5 Pageswith her mother to buy a new pair of shoes. As they are walking through the streets of London, Rosamond can not stop looking at all the objects in the store windows. Rosamond and her mother stop at one store that has a purpl e jar in the front window that she is enamored by. Rosamond is begging her mother for the purple jar while her mother is trying to convince her that she needs a new shoes more. This short story â€Å"The Purple Jar† written by Maria Edgeworth tells the story of little Rosamond learningRead MoreThe Richer the Poorer1009 Words   |  5 PagesThe Richer, The Poorer What is a short story? â€Å"A short story is a work of fiction that develops a single idea† (Dowling Central, n.d.). Dorothy West, an author of many short stories, has entertained and taught many lessons throughout her writings. This paper will discuss West’s short story, â€Å"The Richer, The Poorer.† In addition, this paper will examine the entertainment value of this story as it relates to the lesson it teaches to the reader by discussing the literary elements found in â€Å"The RicherRead MoreMercer Mayer: Little Criter Short Stories and the Crucial Life Lessons They Portray1141 Words   |  5 PagesMayer is an American artist and short story author who was born in Little Rock, Arkansas on December 30, 1943. He grew up in Honolulu, Hawaii, and attended art school in Honolulu and New York City. He has written over 300 short stories, some with the help of his current wife, Gina Mayer. The stories I have chosen to analyze are part of his â€Å"Little Critter † series. These stories include â€Å"Little Critter’s The Fussy Princess,† â€Å"Taking Care of Mom,† â€Å"I Was so Mad,† â€Å"The New Baby,† and â€Å"A Very Special CritterRead MoreSt. Lucy s Home For Girls Raised By Wolves Is A Short Story Written By Karen Russell1240 Words   |  5 PagesSt. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves is a short story written by Karen Russell. The short story tells a fable about three sisters who were originally born and raised by werewolf parents and a werewolf associated community, and how they were sent to a school in order for them to become more civilized, thereby, they were considered as outcasts. The narrator of the story happens to be the second of the three sisters, Claudette. Claudette says, â€Å"They had ostracized the local wolves by havingRead MoreEssay on Life of Eudora Welty1060 Words   |  5 Pagesschoolteacher, who settled in Jackson in 1904 after their marriage. Eudora†™s school life began attending a white-only school. As born and brought up under strict supervision and influence, at the age of sixteen she somehow convinced her parents to attend college far enough from home, to Columbus, Mississippi and then to Madison, Wisconsin. After graduation in 1930, she moved to New York to attend Columbia Business School. While living in New York, Harlem Jazz theatre occupied her more than her class did. SheRead MoreEssay On Stephen Kings Life1609 Words   |  7 Pageson the horror genre is remarkable, and he has written both books and screenplays. Many of his works have been turned into movies, further increasing his popularity. Most people at least vaguely know who Stephen King is, but not many know his real story. In today’s time Stephen King entrances audiences and his classic books are converted into screenplays for movies. Stephen King was born in Portland, Maine, in 1947 (King). 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The Ritual Of Marriage Essay - 1419 Words

Marriage is universal; in fact, all cultures have social or legal contracts that join two or more people in matrimony. The ritual of marriage is religious to some individuals, signifying a divine covenant with another, while to others marriage is a secular contract. This particular ritual has fluctuated between the two throughout generations and cultures. Historically, these matrimonial contracts solidified alliances and were frequently arranged by entire families or even nations. While these matrimonial alliances are still widely practiced throughout the world today, a majority of marriages in western countries espouse for other reasons. Whether Americans marry for procreation, wealth, or love, the rituals that dramatize the important themes in our modern society have evolved into a multibillion dollar industry. The economically fortunate often hire wedding planners to organize an extravagant ceremony, dinner, and party envious to all attendees. Alas, even those on tight budgets wil l spend well above their means for a beautiful and memorable night. While many couples dramatize the themes of love, family, and celebration, the ritual of matrimony has progressed into an increasingly elaborate affair. Contemporary brides show heightened desire to have perfection on their special day, desperately seeking the most beautiful dress, unique decorations, and an unparalleled ceremony and reception. This dramatizes modern themes in American society of competition, individuality, socialShow MoreRelatedThe Sacred Ritual Of Marriage1366 Words   |  6 PagesRituals can be described as an outward expression of inward intention (Rituals, Rites and Festivals, n.d.). Rituals have a prominent role in today’s society as they enable people of all religions to communicate and form a stronger connection with their God or Gods (Rituals, Rites and Festivals, n.d.). 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The Vampire Diaries The Awakening Chapter Six Free Essays

September 26 Dear Diary, I’m sorry it’s been so long, and I can’t really explain why I haven’t written-except that there are so many things I feel frightened to talk about, even to you. First, the most terrible thing happened. The day that Bonnie and Meredith and I were at the cemetery, an old man was attacked there, and almost killed. We will write a custom essay sample on The Vampire Diaries: The Awakening Chapter Six or any similar topic only for you Order Now The police still haven’t found the person who did it. People think the old man was crazy, because when he woke up he started raving about â€Å"eyes in the dark† and oak trees and things. But I remember what happened t us that night, and I wonder. It scares me. Everyone was scared for a while, and all the kids had to stay inside after dark or go out in groups. But it’s been about three weeks now, and no more attacks, so the excitement is dying down. Aunt Judith says it must have been another vagrant that did it. Tyler Smallwood’s father even suggested that the old man might have done it to himself-though I would like to see somebody bite himself in the throat. But mostly what I’ve been busy with is Plan B. As far as it goes, it’s been going well. I’ve gotten severalletters and a bouquet of red roses from â€Å"Jean-Claude† (Meredith’s uncle is a florist), and everybody seems to have forgotten that I was ever interested in Stefan. So my social position’s secure. Even Caroline hasn’t been making any trouble. In fact, I don’t know what Caroline is doing these days, and I don’t care. I never see her at lunch or after school anymore; she seems to have drawn away from her old crowd completely. There’s only one thing I docare about right now. Stefan. Even Bonnie and Meredith don’t realize how important he is to me. I’m afraid to tell them; I’m afraid they’ll think I’m crazy. At school I wear a mask of calm and control, but on the inside- well, every day it just gets worse. Aunt Judith has started to worry about me. She says I don’t eat enough these days, and she’s right. I can’t seem to concentrate on my classes, or even on anything fun like the Haunted House fund-raiser. I can’t concentrate on anything but him. And I don’t even understand why. He hasn’t spoken to me since that horrible afternoon. But I’ll tell you something strange. Last week in history class, I glanced up and caught him looking at me. We were sitting a few seats apart, and he was turned completely sideways in his desk, just looking.For a moment I felt almost frightened, and my heart started pounding, and we just stared at each other -and then he looked away. But since then it’s happened twice more, and each time I felt his eyes on me before I saw them. This is the literal truth. I know it’s not my imagination. He isn’t like any boy I’ve ever known. He seems so isolated, so lonely. Even though it’s his own choice. He’s made quite a hit on the football team, but he doesn’t hang around with any of the guys, except maybe Matt. Matt’s the only one he talks to. He doesn’t hang around with any girls, either, thatIcan see, so maybe the narc rumor is doing some good. But it’s more like he’s avoiding other people than they’re avoiding him. He disappears in between classes and after football practice, and I’ve never once seen him in the cafeteria. He’s never invited anybody to his room at the boarding house. He never visits the coffee shop after school . So how can I ever get him someplace where he can’t run from me? This is the real problem with Plan B. Bonnie says, â€Å"Why not get stuck in a thunderstorm with him, so you have to huddle together to conserve body warmth?† And Meredith suggested that my car could break down in front of the boarding house. But neither of those ideas is practical,and I’m going insane trying to come up with something better . Every day it’s getting worse for me. I feel as if I were a clock or something, winding up tighter and tighter. If I don’t find something to do soon, I’ll- I was going to say â€Å"die.† The solution came to her quite suddenly and simply. She felt sorry about Matt; she knew he’d been hurt by the Jean-Claude rumor. He’d hardly spoken to her since the story had broken, usually passing her with a quick nod. And when she ran into him one day in an empty hall outside of Creative Writing, he wouldn’t meet her eyes. â€Å"Matt-† she began. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true, that she would never have started seeing another boy without telling him first. She wanted to tell him that she’d never meant to hurt him, and that she felt terrible now. But she didn’t know how to begin. Finally, she just blurted out, â€Å"I’m sorry!† and turned to go in to class. â€Å"Elena,† he said, and she turned back. He was looking at her now, at least, his eyes lingering on her lips, her hair. Then he shook his head as if to say the joke was on him. â€Å"Is this French guy for real?† he finally demanded. â€Å"No,† said Elena immediately and without hesitation. â€Å"I made him up,† she added simply, â€Å"to show everybody I wasn’t upset about-† She broke off. â€Å"About Stefan. I get it.† Matt nodded, looking both grimmer and somewhat more understanding. â€Å"Look, Elena, thatwas pretty lousy of him. But I don’t think he meant it personally. He’s that way with everybody-† â€Å"Except you.† â€Å"No. He talks to me, sometimes, but not about anything personal. He never says anything about his family or what he does outside of school. It’s like-like there’s a wall around him that I can’t get through. I don’t think he’ll ever let anybody get through that wall. Which is a damn shame, because I think that behind it he’s miserable.† Elena pondered this, fascinated by a view of Stefan she’d never considered before. He always seemed so controlled, so calm and undisturbed. But then, she knew she seemed that way herself to other people. Was it possible that underneath he was as confused and unhappy as she was? It was then that the idea came, and it was ridiculously simple. No complicated schemes, no thunderstorms or cars breaking down. â€Å"Matt,† she said, slowly, â€Å"don’t you think it would be a good thing if somebody did get behind that wall? A good thing for Stefan, I mean? Don’t you think that would be the best thing that could happen to him?† She looked up at him intensely, willing him to understand. He stared at her a moment, then shut his eyes briefly and shook his head in disbelief. â€Å"Elena,† he said, â€Å"you are incredible. You twist people around your little finger, and I don’t think you even know you’re doing it. And now you’re going to ask me to do something to help you ambush Stefan, and I’m such a dumb sucker I might even agree to do it.† â€Å"You’re not dumb, you’re a gentleman. And Ido want to ask you a favor, .but only if you think it’s right. I don’t want to hurt Stefan, and I don’t want to hurt you.† â€Å"Don’t you?† â€Å"No. I know how that must sound, but it’s true. I only want-† She broke off again. How could she explain what she wanted when she didn’t even understand it herself? â€Å"You only want everybody and everything revolving around Elena Gilbert,† he said bitterly. â€Å"You only want everything you don’t have.† Shocked, she stepped back and looked at him. Her throat swelled, and warmth gathered in her eyes. â€Å"Don’t,† he said. â€Å"Elena, don’t look like that. I’m sorry.† He sighed. â€Å"All right, what is it I’m supposed to do? Hog-tie him and dump him on your doorstep?† â€Å"No,† said Elena, still trying to make the tears go back where they belonged. â€Å"I only wanted you to get him to come to the Homecoming Dance next week.† Mart’s expression was odd. â€Å"You just want him to be at the dance.† Elena nodded. â€Å"All right. I’m pretty sure he’ll be there. And, Elena†¦ there really isn’t anybody but you I want to take.† â€Å"All right,† said Elena after a moment. â€Å"And, well, thank you.† Matt’s expression was still peculiar. â€Å"Don’t thank me, Elena. It’s nothing†¦ really.† She was puzzling over that when he turned away and walked down the hall. â€Å"Hold still,† said Meredith, giving Elena’s hair a reproving twitch. â€Å"I still think,† said Bonnie from the window seat, â€Å"that they were both wonderful.† â€Å"Who?† Elena murmured absently. â€Å"As if you didn’t know,† said Bonnie. â€Å"Those two guys of yours who pulled off the last-minute miracle at the game yesterday. When Stefan caught that last pass, I thought I was going to faint. Or throw up.† â€Å"Oh,please ,† said Meredith. â€Å"And Matt-that boy is simply poetry in motion†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"And neither of them is mine,† Elena said flatly. Under Meredith’s expert fingers, her hair was becoming a work of art, a soft mass of twisted gold. And the dress was all right; the iced-violet color brought out the violet in her eyes. But even to herself she looked pale and steely, not softly flushed with excitement but white and determined, like a very young soldier being sent to the front lines. Standing on the football field yesterday when her name was announced as Homecoming Queen, there had been only one thought in her mind. Hecouldn’t refuse to dance with her. If he came to the dance at all, he couldn’t refuse the Homecoming Queen. And standing in front of the mirror now, she said it to herself again. â€Å"Tonight anyone you want will be yours,† Bonnie was saying soothingly. â€Å"And, listen, when you get rid of Matt, can I take him off and comfort him?† Meredith snorted. â€Å"What’s Raymond going to think?† â€Å"Oh,you can comforthim . But, really, Elena, I like Matt. And once you home in on Stefan, your threesome is going to get a little crowded. So†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"Oh, do whatever you want. Matt deserves some consideration.† He’s certainly not getting it from me, Elena thought. She still couldn’t exactly believe what she was doing to him. But just now she couldn’t afford to second-guess herself; she needed all her strength and concentration. â€Å"There.† Meredith put the last pin in Elena’s hair. â€Å"Now look at us, the Homecoming Queen and her court-or part of it, anyway. We’re beautiful.† â€Å"Is that the royal ‘we’?† Elena said mockingly, but it was true. They were beautiful. Meredith’s dress was a pure sweep of burgundy satin, gathered tight at the waist and pouring into folds from the hips. Her dark hair hung loose down her back. And Bonnie, as she stood up and joined the others in front of the mirror, was like a shimmering party favor in pink taffeta and black sequins. As for herself†¦ Elena scanned her image with an experienced eye and thought again, The dress is all right. The only other phrase that came to mind wascrystallized violets . Her grandmother had kept a little jar of them, real flowers dipped in crystallized sugar and frozen. They went downstairs together, as they had for every dance since the seventh grade-except that before, Caroline had always been with them. Elena realized with faint surprise that she didn’t even know who Caroline was going with tonight. Aunt Judith and Robert-soon to be Uncle Robert-were in the living room, along with Margaret in her pajamas. â€Å"Oh, you girls all look lovely,† said Aunt Judith, as fluttery and excited as if she were going to the dance herself. She kissed Elena, and Margaret held up her arms for a hug. â€Å"You’re pretty,† she said with four-year-old simplicity. Robert was looking at Elena, too. He blinked, opened his mouth, and closed it again. â€Å"What’s the matter, Bob?† â€Å"On.† He looked at Aunt Judith, seeming embarrassed. â€Å"Well, actually, it just occurred to me that Elena is a form of the name Helen. And for some reason I was thinking of Helen of Troy.† â€Å"Beautiful and doomed,† said Bonnie happily. â€Å"Well, yes,† said Robert, not looking happy at all. Elena said nothing. The doorbell rang. Matt was on the step, in his familiar blue sports coat. With him were Ed Goff, Meredith’s date, and Raymond Hernandez, Bonnie’s. Elena looked for Stefan. â€Å"He’s probably already there,† said Matt, interpreting her glance. â€Å"Listen, Elena-† But whatever he had been about to say was cut off in the chatter from the other couples. Bonnie and Raymond went with them in Matt’s car, and kept up a constant stream of witticisms all the way to the school. Music drifted out the open doors of the auditorium. As Elena stepped out of the car, a curious certainty rushed over her. Something was going to happen, she realized, looking at the square bulk of the school building. The peaceful low gear of the last few weeks was about to slip into high. I’m ready, she thought. And hoped it was true. Inside, it was a kaleidoscope of color and activity. She and Matt were mobbed the instant they came in, and compliments rained down on both of them. Elena’s dress†¦ her hair†¦ her flowers. Matt was a legend in the making: another Joe Montana, a sure bet for an athletic scholarship. In the dizzying whirl that should have been life and breath to her, Elena kept searching for one dark head. Tyler Smallwood was breathing heavily on her, smelling of punch and Brut and Doublemint gum. His date was looking murderous. Elena ignored him in the hopes that he would go away. Mr. Tanner passed by with a soggy paper cup, looking as if his collar was strangling him. Sue Carson, the other senior homecoming princess, breezed up and cooed over the violet dress. Bonnie was already out on the dance floor, shimmering under the lights. But nowhere did Elena see Stefan. One more whiff of Doublemint and she was going to be sick. She nudged Matt and they escaped to the refreshment table, where Coach Lyman launched into a critique of the game. Couples and groups came up to them, spending a few minutes and then retreating to make room for the next in line. Just as if we reallywere royalty, thought Elena wildly. She glanced sideways to see if Matt shared her amusement, but he was looking fixedly off to his left. She followed his gaze. And there, half concealed behind a cluster of football players, was the dark head she’d been looking for. Unmistakable, even in this dim light. A thrill went through her, more of pain than anything else. â€Å"Now what?† said Matt, his jaw set. â€Å"The hog-tying?† â€Å"No. I’m going to ask him to dance, that’s all. I’ll wait until we’ve danced first, if you want.† He shook his head, and she set out toward Stefan through the crowd. Piece by piece, Elena registered information about him as she approached. His black blazer was of a subtly different cut than the other boys’, more elegant, and he wore a white cashmere sweater under it. He stood quite still, not fidgeting, a little apart from the groups around him. And, although she could see him only in profile, she could see he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He took them off for football, of course, but she’d never seen him close up without them. It made her feel giddy and excited, as if this were a masquerade and the unmasking time had come. She focused on his shoulder, the line of his jaw, and then he was turning toward her. In that instant, Elena was aware that she was beautiful. It wasn’t just the dress, or the way her hair was done. She was beautiful in herself: slender, imperial, a thing made of silk and inner fire. She saw his lips part slightly, reflexively, and then she looked up into his eyes. â€Å"Hello.† Was that her own voice, so quiet and self-assured? His eyes were green. Green as oak leaves in summer. â€Å"Are you having a good time?† she said. I am now . He didn’t say it, but she knew it was what he was thinking; she could see it in the way he stared at her. She had never been so sure of her power. Except that actually he didn’t look as if he were having a good time; he looked stricken, in pain, as if he couldn’t take one more minute of this. The band was starting up, a slow dance. He was still staring at her, drinking her in. Those green eyes darkening, going black with desire. She had the sudden feeling that he might jerk her to him and kiss her hard, without ever saying a word. â€Å"Would you like to dance?† she said softly. I’m playing with fire, with something I don’t understand, she thought suddenly. And in that instant she realized that she was frightened. Her heart began to pound violently. It was as if those green eyes spoke to some part of her that was buried deep beneath the surface-and that part was screaming â€Å"danger† at her. Some instinct older than civilization was telling her to run, to flee. She never moved. The same force that was terrifying her was holding her there. This is out of control, she thought suddenly. Whatever was happening here was beyond her understanding, was nothing normal or sane. But there was no stopping it now, and even while frightened she was reveling in it. It was the most intense moment she’d ever experienced with a boy, but nothing at all was happening. He was just gazing at her, as if hypnotized, and she was gazing back, while the energy shimmered between them like heat lightning. She saw his eyes go darker, defeated, and felt the wild leap of her own heart as he slowly stretched out one hand. And then it all shattered. â€Å"Why, Elena, how sweet you look,† said a voice, and Elena’s vision was dazzled with gold. It was Caroline, her auburn hair rich and glossy, her skin tanned to a perfect bronze. She was wearing a dress of pure gold lame that showed an incredibly daring amount of that perfect skin. She slipped one bare arm through Stefan’s and smiled lazily up at him. They were stunning together, like a couple of international models slumming at a high school dance, far more glamorous and sophisticated than anyone else in the room. â€Å"And that little dress is so pretty ,† continued Caroline, while Elena’s mind kept on running on automatic. That casually possessive arm linked with Stefan’s told her everything: where Caroline had been at lunch these past weeks, what she had been up to all this time. â€Å"I told Stefan we simply had to stop by for a moment, but we’re not going to stay long. So you don’t mind if I keep him to myself for the dances, do you?† Elena was strangely calm now, her mind a humming blank. She said no, of course she didn’t mind, and watched Caroline move away, a symphony in auburn and gold. Stefan went with her. There was a circle of faces around Elena; she turned from them and came up against Matt. â€Å"You knew he was coming with her.† â€Å"I knew she wanted him to. She’s been following him around at lunchtime and after school, and kind of forcing herself on him. But†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"I see.† Still held in that queer, artificial calm, she scanned the crowd and saw Bonnie coming toward her, and Meredith leaving her table. They’d seen, then. Probably everyone had. Without a word to Matt, she moved toward them, heading instinctively for the girls’ rest room. It was packed with bodies, and Meredith and Bonnie kept their remarks bright and casual while looking at her with concern. â€Å"Did you see that dress?† said Bonnie, squeezing Elena’s fingers secretly. â€Å"The front must be held on with superglue. And what’s she going to wear to the next dance? Cellophane?† â€Å"Handiwrap,† said Meredith. She added in a low voice, â€Å"Are you okay?† â€Å"Yes.† Elena could see in the mirror that her eyes were too bright and that there was one spot of color burning on each cheek. She smoothed her hair and turned away. The room emptied, leaving them in privacy. Bonnie was fiddling nervously with the sequined bow at her waist now. â€Å"Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing after all,† she said quietly. â€Å"I mean, you haven’t thought about anything else but him in weeks. Nearly a month. And so maybe it’s just for the best, and you can move on to other things now, instead of†¦ well, chasing him.† Et tu, Brute? thought Elena. â€Å"Thank you so much for your support,† she said aloud. â€Å"Now, Elena, don’t be like that,† Meredith put in. â€Å"She isn’t trying to hurt you, she just thinks-† â€Å"And I suppose you think so, too? Well, that’s fine. I’ll just go out and find myself some other things to move on to. Like some other best friends.† She left them both staring after her. Outside, she threw herself into the whirl of color and music. She was brighter than she had ever been at any dance before. She danced with everyone, laughing too loudly, flirting with every boy in her path. They were calling her to come up and be crowned. She stood on the stage, looking down on the butterfly-bright figures below. Someone gave her flowers; someone put a rhinestone tiara on her head. There was clapping. It all passed as if in a dream. She flirted with Tyler because he was closest when she came off the stage. Then she remembered what he and Dick had done to Stefan, and she broke off one of the roses from her bouquet and gave it to him. Matt was looking on from the sidelines, his mouth tight. Tyler’s forgotten date was almost in tears. She could smell alcohol along with the mint on Tyler’s breath now, and his face was red. His friends were around her, a shouting, laughing crowd, and she saw Dick pour something from a brown paper bag into his glass of punch. She’d never been with this group before. They welcomed her, admiring her, the boys vying for her attention. Jokes flew back and forth, and Elena laughed even when they didn’t make sense. Tyler’s arm circled her waist, and she just laughed harder. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Matt shake his head and walk away. The girls were getting shrill, the boys rowdy. Tyler was nuzzling moistly at her neck. â€Å"I’ve got an idea,† he announced to the group, hugging Elena more tightly to him. â€Å"Let’s go someplace more fun.† Somebody shouted, â€Å"Like where, Tyler? Your dad’s house?† Tyler was grinning, a big, boozy, reckless grin. â€Å"No, I mean someplace where we can leave our mark. Like the cemetery.† The girls squealed. The boys elbowed each other and faked punches. Tyler’s date was still standing outside the circle. â€Å"Tyler, that’s crazy,† she said, her voice high and thin. â€Å"You know what happened to that old man. I won’t go there.† â€Å"Great, then, you stay here.† Tyler fished keys out of his pocket and waved them at the rest of the crowd. â€Å"Whoisn’t afraid?† he said. â€Å"Hey, I’m up for it,† said Dick, and there was a chorus of approval. â€Å"Me, too,† said Elena, clear and defiant. She smiled up at Tyler, and he practically swung her off her feet. And then she and Tyler were leading a noisy, roughhousing group out into the parking lot, where they were all piling into cars. And then Tyler was putting the top of his convertible down and she was climbing in, with Dick and a girl named Vickie Bennett squashing into the back seat. â€Å"Elena!† somebody shouted, far away, from the lighted doorway at the school. â€Å"Drive,† she said to Tyler, taking off her tiara, and the engine growled to life. They burned rubber out of the parking lot, and the cool night wind blew into Elena’s face. How to cite The Vampire Diaries: The Awakening Chapter Six, Essay examples

Alfred Stieglitz Biography Essay Example For Students

Alfred Stieglitz Biography Essay Alfred Stieglitz was an influential photographer who spent his life fighting for the recognition of photography as a valid art form. He was a pioneering photographer, editor and gallery owner who played pivotal role in defining and shaping modernism in the United States. Lowe 23. He took pictures in a time when photography was considered as only a scientific curiosity and not an art. As the controversy over the art value of photography became widespread, Stieglitz began to fight for the recognition of his chosen medium. This battle would last his whole life. Edward Stieglitz, father of Alfred, was born in Germany in 1833. He grew up on a farm, loved nature, and was an artist at heart. Legend has it that, independent and strong willed, Edward Stieglitz ran away from home at the age of sixteen because his mother insisted on upon starching his shirt after he had begged her not to Lowe 23. Edward would later meet Hedwig Warner and they would have their first son, Alfred. Alfred was the first of six born to his dad Edward and mom Hedwig. As a child Alfred was remembered as a boy with thick black hair, large dark eyes, pale fine skin, a delicately modeled mouth with a strong chin Peterson 34. In 1871 the Stieglitz family lived at 14 East 60th street in Manhattan. No buildings stood between Central Park and the Stieglitz family home. As Stieglitz got older he started to show interest in photography, posting every photo he could find on his bedroom wall. It wasnt until he got older that his photography curiosity begin to take charge of his life. Stieglitz formally started photography at the age of nineteen, during his first years at the Berlin Polytechnic School. At this time photography was in its infancy as an art form. Alfred learned the fine arts of photography by watching a local photographer in Berlin working in the stores dark room. After making a few pictures of his room and himself, he enrolled in a photochemistry course. This is where his photography career would begin. His earliest public recognition came from England and Germany. It began in 1887 when Stieglitz won the first of his many first prizes in a competition. The judge who gave him the award was Dr. P. H. Emerson, then the most widely known English advocate of photography as an art Doty 23. Dr. Emerson later wrote to Stieglitz about his work sent in to the competition: It is perhaps late for me to express my admiration of the work you sent into the holiday competition. It was the spontaneous work in the exhibition and I was delighted with much of it, Bry 11. The first photographer organization Alfred joined while still in Berlin, was the German Society of the Friends of Photography. After returning to the United States 1890, Stieglitz joined the Society of Amateur Photographers of New York. These experiences would later help him in years to come. By 1902 Stieglitz had become the authority in his chosen field. Stieglitz found that his achievements were not enough to win recognition for photography. Finally in 1902 he founded an entirely new photography group of his own, the Photo Secession. The focus of the Photo Secession was the advancement of pictorial photography. Stieglitz being the leader gathered a talented group of American photographers headed toward the same common goal, to demonstrate photography as an art form Lowe 54. This was the first of many Photo Secession shows through which Stieglitz set out and demonstrated photography as an art. Their first Photo Secession exhibition was held at the National Arts Club in New York. Photo Secession shows were supported by galleries all over the world as well as Stieglitzs own gallery. All these events were reported in Stieglitzs weekly magazine Camera Work, which Stieglitz founded, edited, and published in fifty volumes from its beginning in 1903 until its end in 1917. Although the Photo Secession group never dissolved, it gradually diminished as an organized group. Edwin Arlington Robinson biography EssayWhen Stieglitz returned to America from England, he found that photography, as he understood it, hardly existed. An instrument had been put on the market shortly before, called Kodak. The slogan sent out to advertisers reading, You press the button and well do with the rest. This idea sickened Stieglitz. To Stieglitz it seemed like rotten sportsmanship Peterson 10. Stieglitz wanted to make photography an art so Stieglitz decided, to do something about it. Camera Notes 1897- 1903 was the most significant American photographic journal of its time see pict. . Published monthly by the Camera Club of New York and edited for most of its life by Alfred Stieglitz, the journal embodied major changes for american photography in general and to Stieglitz s career in particular. Camera Notes signaled the beginning of the movement of artistic photography in the United States. Over the course of the six years that Camera Notes was published, Stieglitz witne ssed the establishment of an American standard for artistic photography and the dissolution of his faith in members of popular camera clubs. Camera Notes ushered in not only a new century, but also an entirely different attitude toward photography Peterson 35. This journal represented a noble effort on the part of Stieglitz to work within the territory of the American Camera Club movement Norman 67. The journal included a number of articles and photographic illustrations he believed would inspire his readers to higher levels of picture making and greater depths of artistic meaning Peterson 10. Later Stieglitz resigned from being the editor of Camera Club because of others accused him of rule or run tactics. Stieglitz then created his own magazine. Stieglitz had always dreamed of publishing and editing his own independent magazine, Camera Work. In choosing the title Stieglitz felt that he could form a growing belief in any medium. After publishing Camera Work Stieglitz became widely recognized as an international leader in the photographic world. Stieglitz and others who were making photographs of the cultured merit at the turn of the century generally termed their work pictorial rather than artistic Norman 45. Pictorial photography meant precisely artistic photography in their minds, but the phrase was used in part because it was less threatening to an established artist. Despite this approach, pictorialists were intent upon making pictures with their cameras, by which they meant images of pleasing value. The word pictorial implied an association with pictures, a class of visual phenomenon that was largely made up of fine paintings, prints and drawings. Pictorialists worked with a narrow range of subjects, in part because they wished to downplay the importance of the subject matter. They would later flourish into painter photographers. At the turn of the century, a new class of creative individuals, called painter- photographer emerged. This group fulfilled Stieglitz s dream for pictorial photography. Its presence provided the movement with individuals who were trained in the established arts and who legitimized the artistic claims of pictorial photography by the fact that they were willing to use the photographic medium. The very term painter photographer was made up in reference to Frank Eugene who worked simultaneously with Stieglitz in media for a decade. Eugene attended a German fine arts academy, and painted theatrical portraits of the United States. In 1889 he mounted a solo exhibition of pictorial photographs at the Camera Club of New York, which, pointedly, was reviewed in Camera Notes as painting photography Norman 23. In conclusion Stieglitzs fight for photography developed into new ideas for future generations. He continued to make his own experiments and to defend the work of others also breaking new ground. The magazines he edited, like the galleries he founded, swiftly became dynamic points of contact between artist and public and a battleground for new ideas.