War is Hell

The Things They Carried
Tim O'Brien
A good war story....

"War is hell, but that's not the half of it, because, war is also mystery and terror and adventure and courage and discovery and holiness and pity and despair and longing and love..war is hell. As a moral declaration the old truism seems perfectly true, and yet because it abstracts, because it generalizes, I can't believe it with my stomach. Nothing turns inside. it comes down to gut instinct. A true war story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe".(O'Brien 78)

Short story #3

Three Years
Locked away in the confines of some unknown force he silently read the letter. He read the letter and his heart slowly tore apart into a thousand pieces. His heart was completely shattered, damaged beyond repair. Hot tears streamed down his face, burning rivers of fire. The tears slipped down his chin and trickled onto the letter. The words began to swim on the paper; more and more tears flowed down his cheeks. His breath began to quicken, ragged and strained, until it choked out in overwhelmed sobs. His chest felt heavy, like someone was standing on top of him. His head began to pound, a banging drum resonating in the depths of his skull.
This is what happens when a heart breaks…
What I was about to do would change his life forever. I know it is not the best way to go about doing something like this, but it needed to be done. I haven’t seen Toby in three years. Three years. That is such a long time. I miss him, I miss him so much, but I cannot keep doing this. So much has changed in the past three years that there is no way we can stay together. It just isn’t healthy to keep the relationship alive. I’m different, and he is too. How can it work?
Do I still love him? I love him, more than anything in the world, but I’m not in love anymore. Three years is such a long time. Does he still love me? I’m not sure. He writes to me, but not like he had when he first was drafted. I want to save him the trouble; he does not need to stay with me if he doesn’t want to. It’s the responsible thing to do, to break things off, and to say it’s over. It hurts, but I feel like it’s the right thing to do.
Sitting down at my desk I pull out my pen and paper from a drawer.
Dear Toby,
And so it begins…

Crunchcrunchcrunch That’s all I’ve heard for the past four hours. That’s not true, I’ve heard much more than that. I can hear the crunching of our boots grinding against the gravel, the continuous stomping of feet, the urge to collapse in an exhausted heap, the feeling of giving up, the heartbreak of the memory of our fallen comrades. I can hear it all. Even though it feels like hell, we keep walking. We take these endless walks, walks with seemingly no destination, for days on end. I’m tired. I’m hungry. My feet hurt. We’re not even close to done walking.
I refuse to give up. I have too much to live for. I’ve got a girl. This girl keeps me alive through the walking, the shooting, the death and destruction. She is my lifeline to reality and normalcy. I go through hell to get back to her. She is my inspiration and one day she will be my wife.
I’ve been through way too much to stop now. I’ve been ambushed countless times from the enemy. I’ve had friends die in my arms. I’ve seen guys so mutilated it make me shudder. I’ve been shot at, pushed to the edge and back. I’ve had man and nature against me and at times, even God. But I kept going, I continue because of her.
I’m going to get back to her. She promised that she would wait for me, no matter how long it took for me to get back. She promised. I remember when I told her I was being drafted. I could see she was heartbroken, but we promised that we would wait for each other. She had said that she would love me until death and even after. And I know that she will remain true.
We finally stop walking. We’ve come one of our many bases, and I’m anxious to learn if I have received another letter from Willa. It’s been a while since I have heard from her. I can feel the atmosphere change in my platoon. Since we’ve met up with some of our buddies, the mood has certainly lifted. There are no longer clouds of doom looming above our helmets.
“Yo, Toby. I got some great news for ya!”
“What’s that, sir”
“Just got the word, you’re bein’ set home. Gather your stuff, a plane should be landing soon.”
“Really, sir?” It happened just like that. No lie. I could not believe my luck! Now I could go home and be with my Willa! Oh! This was way too good to be true.
“Yeah, Toby. You lucky dog!”
“Thank you, sir!”
Now I had one more mission, one last task to complete before I left this all behind. I had to get to where the mail tent! I made my way through camp until I found it.
“Hey, Elroy! You got anything for me?”
“Toby! I hear you’re a free man now!”
“Yup, well…just about.”
“Well I got a letter here for ya from a Miss Willa Cuerest.” He smiled a big goofy smile.
“Thanks, Elroy. I’ll be seein’ ya. You take care and stay alive so we can go out and get a couple beers, alright?”
“No problem, Toby. You take care.”
“I will.”
I pocketed the letter, thinking about how romantic it would be if I could read it with her. I cannot wait to see her face when I get back! She is going to be so excited.

Three days after the letter was sent I realized my mistake. I still was in love with Toby. I don’t know why the change but I was still in love. Even though I sent the letter and I felt it was responsible, I realize now that nothing can take away the love I have for him. I need him. Three years can’t stop that. I had made a promise. I don’t know where this change of heart came from but what I do know is that I need to do something about that letter. No, I can’t get it back but I shall write another one. I’m sure He’ll understand.
Joy fills my soul as I make my way up the path to Will’s house. It’s been so long; I cannot not wait until we reunite! My legs pump me, faster and faster. The space between my destination and me is so close it’s unbearable. The letter is heavy in my pocket and I’m filled with immense curiosity as to what treasures it contains.
Curiosity killed the cat but I’m a soldier. I grabbed the letter from my pocket as I arrived in front of Willa’s house and tear away the envelope. I began reading its contents. Blinking back tears, I let the letter that horrible piece of paper, fall to the ground. I looked up at Willa’s house, thinking that there must have been a mistake but I knew she was right. Three years was a long time. I saw her staring at me through the window; she looked into my eyes with shock. I held her gaze for a moment, my eyes pounding hers. She didn’t flinch. I nodded my head slightly. Then I walked away.

Community Proposal

For my community proposal, I will create a survey/interview to ask people in the community. Some questions that I plan on asking are: Do you believe in Heaven and Hell? Are they actual places or are they just figurative? Describe what you think Heaven and Hell are (ex: a beach for Heaven and...school for Hell)

Welcome to Hell

“Welcome to paradise.”
I shot a glance in the direction of the tired voice. It came from Johnny; well, at least I think it was Johnny. The young man was covered from head to toe in a thick layer of black oil. All of his features were blended together and he looked like some evil creature. His clothes hung from him in tattered rags. Even though I have done countless years of service, it still made me sick to see my men like this. All eight of them looked the same, marinated in a thick coat of the ship’s oil. We were all gathered on the small sandy beach, exhausted and starving, battered and bruised. My head began to gently ache.
“Okay men, lets do a head count.” When everyone from my group was accounted for, we washed off the oil and then the struggle began. We were in desperate need of food; we had gone about one and a half days without any and I could feel myself grow weaker as the seconds passed. I am a lieutenant and the highest in command in my group. I knew that it was my duty to take charge right away.
“Alright, let’s look for some food. We also need some form of a shelter because it may be a while until we get rescued. Harris and Leo, you begin to make a giant fire so we can be seen by rescue planes. Mich, Cal, and Aaron, you guys start working on a shelter. It doesn’t need to be fancy. Now me, Johnny, and Mika will look for food.”
Murmurs of ‘yes sir’s’ filled the warm, tropical air. I wiped the sweat from my brow and headed into the palm tree forest with Johnny and Mika. Once you’ve been stationed on tropical islands you can never look at them the same. The typical person would see an ideal vacation. An experienced military person knows that islands are just landmasses with no protection, little food, and blistering heat. There was no way I could enjoy this place. Marching through this tiny jungle was disheartening, I could see it on Mika and Johnny’s faces. The island was so small we could see every single coast. There were obviously no animals we could hunt, and we needed the protein if we wanted to remain strong.
“Hey Copper, maybe we’ll find some bananas.” Johnny was looking up hopefully at the trees. He was young and inexperienced but he was optimistic.
“Maybe”, I muttered as I inspected an interesting looking berry bush.
“Look up there!” Mika was pointing at another tree. “Those are coconuts! We can eat them and drink the juice. Well, if we can get them down.”
“There’s juice inside?” The puzzled look on Johnny’s face made me laugh.
“There sure is Johnny. Wanna go up there and get them?”
“Okay.”

We made our way back to the rest of the men with armfuls of coconuts. A giant fire was blazing in the middle of the beach and half of a makeshift shelter was complete.
“Good work, men.” I said as I inspected the crudely made home. It was turning out very well despite the severe lack of supplies. I looked up into the cloudless sky, shading my eyes from the harsh sunrays. I could feel the heat closing in around me, like I was being wrapped in a giant wool blanket. The sweat was pouring off me in massive rivers and my eyes began to swim in my skull. My vision clouded over and I felt a wave of nausea.
“Let’s break open these coconuts and get a drink. I got enough for two each.” Johnny was dishing out the fruit to everyone. We all gathered around, shaded by the shelter and palm trees, and began to work at the coconuts.

No rescue planes came.

After about a week, disaster struck us. Johnny discovered that we were running low on coconuts and they were our only source of fluid. I could feel myself slowly dehydrating and I knew we weren’t going to make it much longer. Planes flew over us every day but they were not rescue planes and none of them had shown any signs of seeing us.
“I can’t do this!” Mich yelled as yet another plane passed by. “I need water and I’m drinking some.” He stumbled towards the ocean.
“No!” Mika and I leaped towards him, trying to detain him. I grabbed his arm and Mika snaked his arms around the madman’s waist, but there was no use. Mich was too strong from an adrenaline rush and we couldn’t hold him. He crashed towards the water, violently scooping the salty liquid to his lips. I couldn’t watch. I turned my back and slowly walked back towards our camp. Shaking off the intense pain in my skull.

Four hours later Mich died from dehydration. I put his dog tags in my pocket.

A day later Aaron went to sleep and never woke up. I put his dog tags in my pocket.

Later that day, Cal drank seawater. He died a few hours later and his dog tags went in my pocket.

The day after that, Leo fainted and hit his head on a rock. He died instantly. I took his dog tags.

Mika then died from dehydration. I kept his dog tags.

Johnny climbed a palm tree in a desperate attempt to find coconuts. He fell from being so weak and broke both his legs and an arm. He lived. I didn’t want to move him because I didn’t know if there was any damage done to his spine. I sat with him, making a small fire so he could be kept warm when the cold island night engulfed us. I tried to make him as comfortable as possible, shading him from the violent sun, but I knew that he wouldn’t make it another day. I felt sick, the pain in my head was almost unbearable and my vision was depleting. A buzz in my head made it hard for me to hear Johnny when he spoke.
“Copper.” Johnny looked up at me, his face ashen. “Am I going to die?”
“Yes. But so am I. People die Johnny, they die every single day, but I’m not going to let you die here. I promise.” It hurt me to lie to him.
“Good, I knew you wouldn’t.” He smiled faintly.
An hour later Johnny died from his injuries. And the last of the dog tags were collected.
I just sat there next to his body, the weight of the tags heavy in my pocket. I had no clear thoughts; nothing rational could enter my mind. There was no room. The buzzing had grown to a loud roar and the pain was so relentless that I knew I must be done for. I saw that a small rescue plane had just landed on the beach but I couldn’t bring myself to walk over to it. I just sat there and watched the rescue team check the dead bodies that littered the beach for any signs of life. They then came over to where me and Johnny were. They looked at me with an incomprehensible expression.
The dog tags jingled.
My head exploded.
I did my best to smile.
It came out as a grimace. “Welcome to hell.”

Critique

The Triumph of Death

The painting The Triumph of Death, by Pieter Bruegel, is one that sparks intense emotion in who ever view it. The immense chaos that it portrays makes the reader fear whatever is happening in the painting. It is a curious painting, and it is very open to interpretation. One many think that it is depicting a war or even the end of the world. The painting is really displaying the plague in the 16th century. It is a very effective depiction because it relates the plague to a hell on earth.
There is seemingly no focal point to this painting, which is very effective. There is so much chaos that it almost seems real. Almost like a photograph. The foreground is filled with violence and death and fear. Nestled in the background is a sign of hope. A cross is put up and a bunch of priests are gathered around it. It is simple and clean; the color choice was a pure white to symbolize cleanliness and purity. It is a deep contrast to all of the dark hues of death.

Self Portrait Poem

Confetti

My name is Liz Faxon.
I do what I please.
I swim under water.
I swing through trees.

I collect rubber duckies.
It’s random, but true.
Green Jolly Ranchers are yucky.
Converse are my favorite shoe.

I’m full of confetti;
A magical rainbow of color.
I like to eat spaghetti.
I don’t know the value of a dollar.

I love my dad and grampa;
My mom and grama too.
I have an empty piggy bank.
It’s my favorite color, blue.

I like roses and black cats,
Sunny skies and my friends.
I adore rolling ocean waves,
And the summers that never end.

I love who I am.
I shall never change.
Because if I did,
I would go insane.

Critique #2

"The Triumph Of Death"