Six-Word Stories

In the style of Ernest Hemingway’s:

“Two plus two now equals five.”

“We burned. His hand in mine.”

“Wildcats. Getcha head in the game.”

“But the mighty Casey, struck out.”

“I used to like my Moms.”

“Then Democracy dropped. Like the bombs.”

“The bees. No. Not the bees.”

“That’s where babies don’t come from.”

“I wailed: ‘Donkey died. Ronny cried.'”

“All for Narnia. And for Aslan!”

“All for Narnia. None for Aslan.”

“Finally, France returned to the sea.”

“Optimus Whispered ‘Brother.’ And they fell.”

“Those bastards. They made Grumpy cry.”

The Handmaid’s Touch

(An analysis of touch in Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale”)*
*Up to chapter 20.

“In the semidarkness we could stretch out our arms, when the Aunts weren’t looking, and touch each other’s hands across space.”
-Chapter 1 

The touch of another human being is reassuring. It shows confidence, from both the person touching and the person being touched. It’s a way of saying “I am here for you, should you need me.”
In Offred’s world, touch is rationed. The feeling of reassurance is not to be had, unless it is being used to create a child, but even that is restricted. Even the most intimate form of touch, sex, has been stripped of its former passion and intimacy.

“This (sex) is not recreation, even for the Commander. This is serious business. The Commander too, is doing his duty.”
-Chapter 16

Everything in Offred’s world comes down to just that: duty. They do nothing for themselves, only for the good of their superiors. Offred’s society revolves around the minimization of human interaction and destroying any kind of bond that could serve nonessential purposes.
When non-essential touch does happen, it means something. It is noticed.

“He’s so close that the tip of his boot is touching my foot. Is this on purpose?…I move my foot slightly…he moves his foot so it’s touching me again.”
-Chapter 14

These non-essential interactions mean something. Not just to the people involved, but to outsiders. If this interaction were noticed, Offred could be killed, or severely punished.
That’s really what it all comes down to: essentials. Offred’s superiors provide her with the minimum. Not much more and not much less. This applies to food, hygiene, and interactions. They do not value sentimental touch, as it is not necessary for conception. 

“For our purposes, your feet and hands are not essential.”
-Chapter 15

Women are not valued as humans, only vessels for children. So long as they retain their usefulness as child-bearers, they can be given any punishment. Their hands and feet can be destroyed if it seems like a fitting punishment, and they can still do their “duty.”

Offred’s superiors keep this hold on her, turning basic human interactions into something shameful. They are reprogramming her, keeping her under their thumb, oppressed. But they have not stripped her of her humanity, yet. She wants to rebel, deeply.

“I hunger to commit the act of touch.”
-Chapter 2

And that hunger will either save or kill her.

Monologue: Generation Zombie

[George is a zombie who has just lived through the zombie apocalypse. He is surveying his/her world as it stands now.]

You’ve all seen zombie apocalypse movies, right? The ones where some new strand of virus breaks out and the whole of humanity is reduced to a mass of blundering bodies yelling “Brains….BRAAAAINS.” Well, that’s what I’ve got. It’s like a Zombie…topia? No, Land of the Zombies? The Fortress of Zombietude? The name’s still being worked out. Anyway, after the world falls apart, then what? After the downfall of humanity, the world has to keep on spinning. I mean sure, staggering around in constant search of human flesh may be fun and all, but it starts to get old after a few weeks. So, when all of the humans are either dead or undead, and it’s nothing but zombies as far as the eye can see, what do you do? You just have to adapt. Evolve. And that’s what we’re doing. Evolving. My name is George Fan, and I am one of the proud pioneers of the First Zombie Generation.

The Almost Rebellious Handmaid:

Night One: I hide myself, as I should. I march in place with the rest of the Handmaids, and I don’t know what to expect. Both shifts pass. The Rebels and the Eyes take their picks. We wake up.

Day One: Nothing is different. Neither group made a decision the first night. No one knows what to say, so we mull about until night comes again.

Night Two: I hide again, trying to blend in. This time I’m more aware. I’m aware of bodies moving around me the first shift. I hear the slam of a door. Someone has left. The Eyes begin their shift. I think I hear a door slam again. We wake up.

Day Two: Something is different. We know at least someone is gone, but can’t figure out who. We try to guess, but not by name, because no one seems to know. We anxiously mull, still without real conversation. Night comes again.

Night Three: I hide. This time, I try something. I grow tired of being just a Handmaid, having nothing to do but wait. We just wait to be either freed or slaughtered, having no say either way. As I stomp my feet, I stomp them a little bit in front of my desk, to draw attention to myself first shift. Notice me. Pick me. I can help. But they don’t pick me, they’ve passed me up. The Eyes’ shift begins, and I put my feet back, hiding again. We wake up.

Day Three: Something is different again. We know they’re getting more courageous. They’ve taken two more people, either freed or killed. We know a few faces are missing, but have no way of knowing what they were, Rebels or Eyes. Night.

Night Four: As soon as I sit I make the decision. I place my legs just outside the desk, showing that I’m ready. Maybe they’ll notice this time. I’m trying. They don’t notice. I return my feet to underneath my desk for the Eyes, hoping I haven’t given myself away. We wake up.

Day Four: We’re all a little chattier this morning, trying to guess who’s who. We have no way of knowing, we’re just trying to have fun. One Handmaid starts to walk about. He says something about taking leadership. Several people smile. A couple joke, saying there wouldn’t be any consequences if he were particicuted. A few looks are shared, and someone nominates the Handmaid. Nearly all the class smiles and raises there hands, save for a few. I don’t raise my hand. I smiled when they were joking about it, but I didn’t want to be ruthless, so I kept my hand down. Besides, my vote wouldn’t change it, the majority had already decided. Night comes.

Night Five: Same as before. This time I sit as close to the door as possible, legs out, ready. I want to be picked. I’ve decided. If I get picked, I’ll join the rebels. It’s either that or wait to be killed by an Eye. Or I could just run off. But I don’t think I could do it, knowing I could help stop it. The Rebels and the Eyes seem evenly matched, but maybe I could tip the scale. There my vote would matter. But I don’t get picked. I never get picked. But on the other hand, never get picked, even by the Eyes. We wake up.

Day Five: We all talk again. Someone points out that the younger girl is missing. She’s a year younger than the rest of the Handmaids. One of the Handmaids says she didn’t know we had younger Handmaids. I perk up, I don’t know why, but I do. I start conversation. I tell her I’m a younger Handmaid. I tell her why, that I got put ahead of the others and that now I’m in the older group. We have a nice conversation. Night.

Night Six: I try to draw attention to myself, but to no avail. I’m right by the door again. It’s a different seat but the same distance. The Rebels pass me by and the Eyes’ shift begins. My heart stops. I get tapped. I pause for a moment, thinking it might have been a Rebel shift, but no. I look up and see an Eye. I frown. I’m so disheartened that all I can do is frown. I even forget to signal to her that I’m a Handmaid. I’m less disappointed about death, and more disappointed that I won’t be able to be a rebel. But I leave, and I die.

The Rebels came close, but the Eyes won. The Eyes always win.

LLSA

Lions kill on instinct.
Lambs remain pacifistic.
Serpents lie and deceive.
Angels preach honesty. 

            Last class’s activity didn’t just pose the question of “is this character willing to kill,” and “is this character willing to lie.” Instead, it posed the question of how much and for what purpose this character would be willing to lie for. The Lions, Lambs, Serpents, and Angels activity provided a tool, which could be used organize these traits in people and fictional characters.

            The activity used two scales to gauge the character with: a scale representing capacity to lie, and a scale representing an inclination toward violence. If the person were more capable of lying, they would be put into the Serpent category. If not, the Angel category. If the person were more inclined to be violent, they would be categorized as Lions. If not, Lambs. From this, four categories of character emerged: Winged Lions, Angelic Lambs, Fanged Lions, and Venomous Lambs.

            Winged Lions have more violent tendencies, but are less willing to deceive. They will react strongly when pushed to a certain degree, but will avoid lying unless it has just cause. An example of this would be the Monster, from Mary Shelley’sFrankenstein. Due to his immaturity, the Monster doesn’t have complete control over his emotions and, when pushed to a certain point, will harm or kill anyone around him. He does not lie, partially because he has no concept or need to lie. He is completely honest about his intentions. If he has a desire to systematically kill, he will make it clear. If he wants something from someone, he tells them up front as opposed to relying on deception.

            The less violent version of this is the Angelic Lamb. Out of the four, it is notable for it’s level of purity. It will avoid killing at all costs, and is always honest about its intentions. The example given here was Luna Lovegood from J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. Luna always remains true to herself and does not hide it form the world. She is honest with everyone, even when that honesty might drive someone away. She is also highly pacifistic. The only time she is willing to kill is when the stakes reach a point. When the fate of the world or the ones she loves is at stake, she will do what is necessary to stop save them.

            Fanged Lions were more prone to violence and more willing to lie. To get what they want, they will use deceit and force when needed. An example that could be applied to this category is Regina George from the film Mean Girls. She is a volatile combination of “killing” instinct and a willingness/inclination to lie. When it serves her, she has the natural ability to use deceit to her advantage, harming and defaming her target in the process, all so her needs can be met.

            Venomous Lambs were the more passively deceptive creatures. They do not actively harm, but will lie and deceive to get what they want.  A classic character to fit this category was Prospero from Shakespeare’s The Tempest. He will actively go after what he wants, but has a complete aversion to killing. This aversion comes not from a place of weakness, but from a pure, justified choice. He chooses that his goal can be accomplished without death, but works just as intensely to reach for it, instead using Ariel’s trickery and his own talent for manipulation and deceit to get there.

         I believe the biggest thing that places a character into their respective category is not their goals, but their plans and how far they will go to reach those goals.

Regeneration, Extermination

One may not have death without the other’s
And both refuse to greet death as a friend.
They save and kill, like a murd’rous lover,
With love and hatred to fuel them again

One ought to be good, the other evil
But their battle causes the line to blur.
Rewrite the angel, invent new devils
Create blessed monsters, cause screams unheard.

Last of their kinds, passions immovable.
Preach killing as saving, never to bend.
War unwinnable and unloseable,
They won’t get it, but they fight for an end.

Just as one wishes to exterminate
The other remains to regenerate.

(image courtesy of http://www.amazon.com/Doctor-Dalek-Tardis-Vinyl-Sticker/dp/B0086PQYM4 )

The Monster’s Development (Revised)

[The following post is a revised version of the post found at http://chesterdoesliterature.tumblr.com/post/33682827903/the-monsters-development%5D
The Monster’s Development

At this point in Mary Shelly’s “Frankenstein,” Victor Frankenstein’s monster has developed at an exceptional rate. He is no more than two or three years of age at this point, but is functioning at the rate of a young adult or adolescent. Despite his relatively short life, he has learned basic problem solving, developed a very clear understanding of human interactions/relationships, and has become capable of relating outside ideas to his own life.
The monster’s ability to problem-solve ranges from physical problems to abstract ideas. He has developed impressive hands-on skills, such as quickly learning how to use an axe so he could chop down trees. He also has the capacity to figure out cause and effect, realizing that if he continues to steal food from the family he is observing. then family will go hungry.
The monster also is quickly able to grasp what fuels human interactions and relationships. Mainly he quickly becomes aware of the “family dynamic” in the house he is observing. He figures out that the old blind man is the head of the house, thus understanding the idea of a father figure. He then figures out that Felix and Agatha are his children, and that they serve and take care of him. From strictly observing them, he is able to fully understand what family life is like.
Once he understands the family, he is able to connect their relationships to his own life. He recognizes what their household has, and how it is lacking in his life. He also teaches himself an impressive but very basic understanding of concepts such as math, language, and reading. His general intelligence has allowed him to connect things at deeper levels than some grown men would be capable.
While the monster’s growth has been impressive, his lack of understanding toward ideas valued by society forces him to be looked at as a blubbering abomination. This heavily suggests a theme of unnecessarily placed societal standards. In reality the monster is extremely intelligent, even though he cannot articulate any of it because he lacks any basic teaching of what society values and how he should act.

(Picture courtesy of http://www.dreamstime.com/royalty-free-stock-photos-rising-building-blocks-image17854898)

Torn

[Lights up on a park bench. Zack and Diana sit near each other in the middle, but aren’t making eye contact. Zack, 16, is dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, or anything he thinks he looks attractive in. Diana, also 16, has on a simple shirt with a plaid jacket or overhirt on top, and is wearing dark jeans.]
[They both seem mildly uncomfortable. Zack moves his hand apprehensively toward her, but hesitates. Diana turns herself more toward him to face him, but leans away They both breathe.]
[(The following exchange should happen in an instant, each move signaling the next:) Diana leans herself forward slightly, and Zack pulls himself closer to her. Diana leans in a little more and closes her eyes. Zack jolts closer, closing his eyes. They both lean in to kiss and they freeze just before their lips touch. Two voices are heard offstage. Enter Inner Zack, excited, and Inner Diana, nervous. They are dressed identically to the teens in front of them, but are a bit more honest and comfortable in their movements. Inner Diana sits near Diana, looking at her, and Inner Zack walks about Zack’s side of the bench.]

INNER ZACK: Oh yes, yes, yes-yes! Finally. I’ve known this girl for five months. Five months, and this is our first actual date. Five months of shooting her glances, dropping hints, talking with her friends, and I finally asked her out. She gave me a “definite maybe,” because she had to make sure she didn’t have something planned already, which was her cute little game to make me want her more. And it worked. Later that night she called, said “yes,” hung up, and I lost it. I was filled with pure ecstasy. And here we are now. I have her, and in two seconds we’ll be going at each other, like animals. It’ll be glorious. Right now…

[Inner Zack sits on Zack’s side of the bench, looking at Zack. Inner Diana leans backward.]

INNER DIANA: I should not be doing this. I should not be doing this. This isn’t fair to him, and this isn’t fair to me. I shouldn’t kiss him. He’s been so sweet to me, but it wouldn’t be right to give him that kind of hope. I know it won’t work out. I only really said yes to give this one last shot, but it still won’t work. Not like it could. So I have two options: Lean out now and run, breaking his heart and ruining what has to be his first date in a long time, if ever. Or I can give him this, and then be honest and tell him it won’t work out because…

INNER ZACK …I am so attracted to you.

INNER ZACK …I think I’m a lesbian.

 

Photo courtesy of http://www.machemag.com/2698/heart-in-hand-gloves/