Black, still, cold, mute, dead, isolated. Those are some of the first adjectives that Clark employs to explain to us the prairie that has been a victim of war. The prairie was once full of life, but now was desolate because of the war. Shallow, brittle, frozen are used to illustrate that the frost had just begun, and that the blistering cold now ruled the land for the season ahead. Tangled, quiet, and empty is then describing the once piece of fence that remained standing throughout the war, and the caves within the walls of the ditch that were once filled with the soldiers during the war.
In this short story, Zamyatin uses the cave setting to symbolize Russia’s retreat from modern civilization. What was once the booming city of St. Petersburg now resembles an obliterated war zone. Large Mammoths walk the streets. The people live in run down apartments. The town has no electricity, no running water, and the sole source of heat for the main characters is a small cast iron stove that the people idolize.
Nick Adams from “Big Two-Hearted River,” Krebs from “Soldier 's Home,” and Alfred Prufrock all share the similarity in the sense that they are simply ordinary people who seem to be in a constant state of isolation, despite their many different and intricate personalities and circumstances. Nick Adams finds himself in the wilderness of Michigan completely alone. In fact, it is stated that, “There was no town, nothing but the rails and the burned-over country. The thirteen saloons that had lined the one street of Seney had not left a trace… Even the surface had been burned off the ground (Hemingway).” Adams went out of his way, getting off of a train, to come to this place that is desolate and in complete seclusion. On a very similar note, Prufrock,
In Book I (The Shimerdas) of My Antonia, Jim Burden described Nebraska on page 11 as “There seemed to be nothing to see; no fences, no creeks or trees, no hills, or fields…There was nothing but land: not a country at all, but the material out of which countries were made”. While Jim describes the plains as nothingness, the narrator of A Wagner Matinée (Clark) compares his own modern town to the “inconceivable silence of the plains” and how the land he knew was “the flat world of the ancients…more merciless than those of war” (paragraph 12).
"Life for me ain't been no crystal stair/ It's had tacks in it/ And splinters/ And boards torn up/And places with no carpet on the floor/-Bare (Hughes, 1992)." It gives a visual of open and lonely space where someone would not want to imagine living in. In this case that lonely space would be her dark challenges. 'Boards torn up/And places with no carpet on the floor shows that where the speaker lived was no fair home. 'Bare' in its own stanza expresses loneliness, and a plain image of what life is like from one-person experience.
Its rustic walls lack any decoration,with the exception of a singular black chipboard cutout of a man riding a horse sprawled across the wall. Like the rest of the interior the walls smelt of cardboard, the scent fully submerging you into the atmosphere that the church created. Metal fold out chairs, though not particularly comfortable, are lined in several rows across the room, allowing for substantial seating. The only things connecting the barn itself to the realm of Christendom is the large cross placed in the front of the room and the worshipers it keeps within its
The House of Usher starts breaking and falling to the ground. It is as if it is missing its strength, or its power source. When there was no one to taunt in the house, it got weak and fell apart. The house returning to being dust in the middle of nowhere is an example of how fond romantic writers were of nature. Though Poe 's stories were dark and gloomy, he always included nature in his work.
He lived on the farm with the fellow, but Old Ben (the snake) disappeared, unknown at the end of the story. The second story is "A Glow in the Dark". It was quite an unnerving narrative; however, it had an amusing end. The story was set in harsh, cold lands, and the narrator was dog-sledding when he came across a particular beam of light. This light reminded him of ghosts.
Setting of the Story. The novel was set amidst a majestic mountain named Great Smoky Mountains, which at its highest peaks seems to be unendingly hiding behind clouds, looking like a mystic giant mound of earth that is totally barren. The reader is given the impression that the peak and down the slope are totally isolated, with no forms of life seen or heard. Below it would be where humanity exists as dense forests begin to manifest. Within the shrubs, pines, wilderness or clearings, log cabins were structured.
The town was so dull with only two colors painting its face. Almost everything looked as dark as the feathers of a raven.The only other color you could see looked like blood on freshly fallen snow. In a town we 're only the song of a blue jay ring through the ears of the Fallen that lay in the ghost town as the last door shut behind the last person destroying all the memories and killed the last hope in the dead soldiers hearts of seeing their families one last time even in death. The dirt roads and trails that lead to Cambridge holds many soldiers but one stands with a musket far to unused and an untamable look in his eyes. His body and hair are covered in mud and rain from the night rough storm.
“There on the cabin porch, on three legs, stood the living skeleton of what had been a mighty coonhound.” The hound could use only one side of his face. The arm of and shoulder of Sounder faced immobilization. “Half the voice of the man was gone too, so in slow, measured, stuttering he told how he had been caught in a dynamite blast in the prison quarry, how the dead side had been crushed under an avalanche of limestone, and how he had been missed for a whole night in a search for dead and wounded.” Both Sounder and the father crippled from tragic events. Their injuries occurred in similar locations. The father’s voice quieted after losing half of his body to the avalanche.
The final carry of half a mile from Portage to Blackstone Lake was made with difficulty by groping our way through the dense woods in the dark, and we gladly betook ourselves at once to the hospitable mansion of logs of the settler on the shore of Blackstone Lake. The cabin being ￼ duly “smudged,” all turned in and slept soundly till awakened by the musical notes of the early rising mosquitoes. A net worn over our heads both night and day contributed largely to our comfort, though no such device will keep out the microscopic sand fly. Oil of pennyroyal and tar, etc., did pretty well, but the net is the best for blackflies and mosquitoes. The mosquitoes appear to thrive particularly there, and we were invited to believe that in a neighboring beaver meadow their hum was such as to