The Crescent Trail: A Short Story

“In the morning it was raining. A fog had come over the mountains from the sea. You could not see the tops of the mountains. The plateau was dull and gloomy, and the shapes of the trees and the houses were changed. I walked out beyond the town to look at the weather. The bad weather was coming over the mountains from the sea.” (Hemingway 174); an omen of the metaphorical storm of a tragedy that would befall Jake and his compatriots. This tragedy is the result of the flawed characters, strenuous circumstances, and pessimistic, yet realistic, lack of hope the main character finds himself feeling in the conclusion of the book. The Sun Also Rises is a tragedy that depicts the miserable lives of expatriates coping with their mental and physical

I read the book ” The Moccasin Trail”, this book is mostly about a man named Jim Heath. Jim is a man who shortly after leaving his family behind to go be himself was severely attacked by a grizzly bear. Shortly after the attack a group of Crow Indians found Jim who was half alive and took him to their Tribe and took care of him until he was better. Ever since Jim got better he joined the Crow Indians tribe and become one himself. One day, after six years of living with the Crow Indians Jim received a letter from his sister saying that they( as in his two younger brothers, sister, and little nephew) were backing up all their stuff and moving out west to Oregon territory in search for

Aldo Leopold was a man with a vision. Leopold saw the land as a complex living being, interactions between each tree, each bird, as vital as the organs that comprised the body of that being. This makes sense since Leopold was an ecologist, among many other things. Throughout his essays in the wonderful ‘A Sand County Almanac' Leopold shares his vision, his passion, for the land. The essays we transport the reader from the snowy forests of Wisconsin to the craggy slopes of picturesque New Mexico, all the while we learn and grow with Leopold. In the climax, Leopold sees the fierce green fire as it dies the old mother wolf's eyes, a wolf that he himself shot. Leopold has a revelation in this moment, realizing that the wolf he had killed

The moonlight shone between the branches, a gentle breeze caused the leaves to dance beautifully. Fallen leaves and twigs crunched under our feet as we ran through the woods. Our giggles echoed through the seemingly endless ocean of trees. He held my hand as he lead me through the calm and peaceful forest, until we finally came across a small little clearing. It seemed to satisfy him, because as soon as we reached it, he turned around and gently pressed his lips against mine. I leaned against the closest tree and wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling him pull me closer as he snaked his arms around my waist. It was perfect, he was perfect, he was the one. We continued kissing for awhile, until all of a sudden we heard a branch break

It was a sunny day in Oregon. Birds were chirping, deer roaming around the forest, and rabbits gently hopping around. However, this is not a normal forest. Things are not the way people usually perceive a forest. The craziest things can be seen. There have been sightings of giant millipedes or giant frogs, but not all the secrets of this Oregon forest have been resolved.

It seems that only a few individuals are able to consistently amaze and inspire others through literature. Poets are often these people as their creativity infatuates the readers and can portray a unique scenario meticulously. Robert Penn Warren was such a man. His ability to see things from different perspectives is why he is one of the best poets. One perspective change that was unique was his novel, Wilderness: A Tale of the Civil War. This novel was about a boy named Adam Rosenweig, a German Jew living in a ghetto that was within a province named Bavaria. While living in this community with his father and uncle, he develops a hatred for it as the anti-Semitism within his community continues to grow. Eventually, Adam decides that he must escape this prison of hatred and confusion and travel to America so that he may fight for the North in the Civil War. During his voyage to America, he crippled his ankle issuing an even more difficult journey and may not even be able to fight due to the injury. After the long tiring travel, Adam arrives in New York during the worst possible scenario, the anti-draft riots. These riots were provoked by the government issuing a draft for all men between the ages of 20-45. The rioters of this event were primarily Irish American working class citizens. Being the poorest or

It was a shinny Sunday of the spring when Nan Adams stretched her leg on the red sofa, having her half closed eyes from sleepiness. The long vacation brought her enough time to relax and reward herself as a lazy cat. Outside the garden of her fancy house, day seemed to pass by slowly. She waved her beautiful hand over the side table, catching the remote control of TV and immediately yawned at daily news running on the screen. Many advertising crossed over as she had a glimpse on them. Her eyes would close and she would fall into a dreaming sleep if there was not a pop up from a winery at Napa valley. Nan Adams was so familiar to many wine labels from that up north California. Since her job as a secretary of an

I, Forrest Rivers, am an artist. I 'm in love with my best friend, who also is an artist. I get a call from him. "Forrest! I 'm going to an art school in Florida." he yells into the phone. My heart breaks into a million pieces. "G-good job, Jake." I say. I hang up before I start to bawl. My golden retriever walks up to me.

I am finally out in the stand. The cold breeze against my face and the birch trees swaying around my open window deer stand made me hyped for the start of the season. At the time I was only thirteen, so I couldn’t just sit in the stand by myself. I had to be with an adult, so I sat with my dad. My dad and I sat out there the whole morning and saw….nothing! The start of my hunting season was turning out to be like last year’s season when I didn’t see a thing the whole first weekend. After a whole three hours of sitting in the brisk wilderness, my dad and I drove back to my grandpa’s house with the four wheeler. I enjoyed my second breakfast, which was the leftover hot chocolate I had earlier this morning, and a delectable Subway breakfast sandwich with egg, cheese and bacon. Since we had a long and boring morning, my dad and I decided to head back home and rest for the night shift of hunting. When we returned home, I undressed from all my orange clothing and took a long nap. I woke up to eat lunch, which was some warm homemade soup that my mother had made my dad and I to eat for lunch. After lunch, we were ready to head out

Rays of glorious, bright sunshine cast a brilliant gleam of warmth across a child’s getaway. Next to the majestic metal castle of amusement, which contains a child’s dream, lies a merry-go-round which, to the children, turns as fast as a cheetah running through the savanna. Behind the merry-go-round lies an orange bench that is a traveled piece of furniture where parents go to watch and enjoy the happiness of their little cherubs. To look closely, one will hear the squeak of the swings and see the muddy earth beneath the squeals of delight similar to the monkey’s in the monkey cage at the zoo. The bee’s buzz and the bird’s chirp, create a whirlwind of excitement along with the rustling of the leaves next to the swinging seats of joy to show that the warmth and sunshine

We arrived to the ranch with our pants scrunched up to our knees, fast food stains smeared on our shirts, and eyes half shut, barely paying attention to the open plains and star lit skies just outside the car. The rusty gates creaked as they swung open, revealing the world of tall grass and herds of cattle hidden deep in the hills of Nevada. The two cars, filled to capacity, rolled up the dirt road leaving behind all sense of civilization. It was night, and thousands of white lights illuminated the sky normally blanketed by the bright streets back home. The air smelled and felt fresh. The eerie quiet hid the sleeping animals, but because of the grinding gravel and our anxious screams of joy, the noise bounced between the mountains and awoke the ranch. Dad and his friend, Dean, parked the cars and our two

The battle was dynamic, riveting even! Hero and his Villain bounding across the spring-laden dawn tundra, bursts of energy igniting between them as their tails and armour collided. Butterflies cascaded about from both Hero and the grasses. A wide smile crossed the Hero’s face but a grimace of anger and frustration stuck to the Villain’s. “Why can’t I! Just! Hit! Him!” Villain yelled to himself. Another swing from Villain’s tail, another expert dodge from Hero. A hidden crossbow fired from Villain’s mechanical foreleg; squealing from the strain. A quick plume of flame from Hero, midleap, reduced it to ash and a red hot arrowhead. “Ahh! F-” Villain began to cuss.

The cool, upland air, flooding through the everlasting branches of the lively tree, as it casts a vague shadow onto the grasses ' fine green. Fresh sunlight penetrates through the branches of the tree, illuminating perfect spheres of water upon its green wands. My numb and almost transparent feet are blanketed by the sweetness of the scene, as the sunlight paints my lips red, my hair ebony, and my eyes honey-like. The noon sunlight acts as a HD camera, telling no lies, in the world in which shadows of truth are the harshest, revealing every flaw in the sight, like a toddler carrying his very first camera, taking pictures of whatever he sees. My head looks down at the sight of my cold and lifeless feet, before making its way up to the reaching arms of an infatuating tree, glowing brightly virescent at the edges of the trunk, inviting a soothing, tingling sensation to my soul. I feel it radiating into my blood, as my heart skips a beat. Soon, enlightened by a beating pair of wings effortlessly moving up and down, more fragile than the glass that once was sitting on the edge of the table. The fluttering pair of painted silk wings circles my front, as another pair comes into sight, creating a delicate breeze that brushes past my quilted cold cheeks. I manage to smile at the picturesque view in front of me, sending a warm satisfaction to my body as it sparks my heart and floods my eyes with tear-filled blur.

In Irving Layton’s poem “Rhine Boat Trip” Layton describes what he sees while coasting down the Rhine River. Layton uses figurative language to reflect on the tragedies on of the Holocaust; pointing out that despite the beauty of the scene, he can only remember the horrors that happened there.

Madison enjoys writing, cooking pasta, and long walks on the beach. She plays a variety of sports and likes to draw a variety of things.