What I Thought About iPads

Having iPads in the classroom was very resourceful. Instead of having to deal with going to the computer labs and not knowing where or when to go, we were always in the classroom and we could still use the Internet. It really was resourceful during our big projects, because we could shoot videos or take pictures all over the school. By having the iPads, our class could virtually be anywhere and do anything unless it was blocked by the school wifi. We tried reading Huck Finn on them but it was very difficult considering the page numbers weren't the same in any iPad. In theory though, it would save the school a lot of money in books as long as they had a better system for pagination of the books and what's not.

Although the iPads were very resourceful, they had their difficulties.For one, if you didn't have Evernote or some type of word document program you couldn't write things and be able to utilize what you did in class at home. Nothing against the iPads but I would rather not have to use so much technology and have various accounts for "social networks" like Dropbox and Evernote when if I had my own iPad I could have Word and then just  complete it later at home.

Personally, I think that a one on one approach would be much more useful. By the iPad not being exclusively mine, using Evernote and Dropbox became a hassle. Everytime I had to leave I also had to logout of every network I used. By being able to bring it home and keep it all four years, I would be able to utilize all the things I had previously learned and I wouldn't have to sign up for all the networks and deal with the trouble of logging out of everything each time I leave class.

What I Thought About Evernote

Evernote is very handy for a few reasons, but the major one being there is no Word on the iPad. Without ever note it is almost pointless to have the iPad because I can't drop any documents into my dropbox that it need to take home from school which means I have to write it in my notebook so I can take something home to study with but that makes the iPad practically useless. Also, Evernote has options like bold, italics, and underline that I really like when I am taking notes while Mr. P lectures. I really like that Evernote gives me the option to use these features right at the top of the screen I'm typing on. It was just really nice to have a means of writing on the iPad without having to use notes and then go through all the effort of emailing it to myself. It was also very nice that I could organize my notes into notebooks. This feature allowed me to compartmentalize and subsect units in our studies this year. Another usefully feature was Evernote's ability to insert videos, pictures, or recordings. It was very nice that I could take a picture of what was happening or record something Mr. P said and then just drop it into my notes. That way my notes could coordinate with what he was saying.

The few problems I ran into dealt with my obsessive organization and set up of my notes. As I'm writing you I just learned of this tab button that I have needed all year. It would be very useful if you wonderful people could label things a little more efficiently so that users know what button means what. It would overall just be very helpful to have more note formatting like Word has. I prefer to tab and bullet and subsect my notes as previously mentioned. Having better labeling would be resourceful for all users of Evernote.

The only suggestion I have to make Evernote more user friendly is better labeling. I know my fellow students would agree with me in saying that was probably the hardest part of using Evernote. Otherwise, Evernote is very useful especially for the iPad. WithoutEvernote, the iPad would have been virtually useless.

The Roman Clock

Barren trees lined the desolate road leading up the hill to where the lake waited. Crisp red leaves covered the ground, scattered all around over the damp grass. The leaves crackled as they were covered by the weight of the black Ford that sped up the winding black pavement. "Are we there yet?"
 “We will be soon sweetie, just be patient." Patricia sat next to her husband, the driver, in the passenger seat. She had been the family negotiator since the Malone family first set foot in the car.
 “But I wanna be there now," Joey whined, his shrill, boyish voice ringing true to his age. Joey was 8 years old and the runt of the Malone family.
 “Shut up! I'm trying to listen to music, okay? I don't even see why we have to go on this stupid trip." Sally's voice was less than whiny and edged more toward annoyance and frustration. A junior in school, Sally saw no reason she should be forced to go on "family fun" trips.
 “Kids...kids, could you just...KIDS!" The car went silent; the crackling of the leaves could be heard inside the car. Their father never yelled. "We are going on this trip. Not because we hate you and want to torture you, but because there is nothing better in life than a little family time. Got it? Good. We are almost there Joey, okay? We are all going to make it out of this week alive and well." The car continued up the road in silence. Finally, it came to a halt outside of a log cabin.
 “Look at that view. Now who is going to try and tell me they don't want to spend a week here? None of you, that's who." Steve let out a bellowing laugh while taking in the view to the left of the car. The driveway led into a big clearing with the lake to the left and a house on the right. The lake was surrounded by forest with just a dirt path leading down to the water front. Across the way, you could see mountains and other homes much like the one they stood in front of now. Of course, the view was somewhat obstructed by the dense fog that clung to the water’s surface. To the right of the car there stood a house, a big log cabin type home. The wrap around porch gave it a charming appearance, with two rocking chairs and a swinging bench stationed on the right portion near the railing, but the overall appearance was gloomy. The wood was stained a dark, deep, brown color and there were very few windows. When the family unloaded the car and went inside, the interior seemed just as melancholy. Due to the lack of windows there was very little natural light. This, of course, was not helped by the lack of man-made lighting in the house. There were few lights on the ceiling and only two lamps, both perched on the end tables of the dull, dark, blood red couch that was positioned in front of the longest window in the living room and right next to the door.
Immediately when they walked in they were standing in the living room facing the kitchen. The kitchen was sleek and dark. All the appliances were black and all the cup boarding was made of dark mahogany paneling. Looking from the kitchen into the living room, to the left there were two sets of stairs, one that went up to the rest of the house and one that went down into the basement. However, on the right there was a fireplace. The fireplace had a sense of grandeur, but in a very dismal way. On the mantle, there was a clock. Not to large, but not very small. The clock was simple and surrounded by dark brown wood. It was crowned with an ornate wood carving that resembled a laurel wreath.
 “Well this clock must be Roman," Steve stated with a chortle.

“Why is that Daddy?" Joey asked with a smile as he tugged on his father’s sleeve. Steve instinctively pulled his son up into his arms. Joey was now tall enough to see the clock head on. He stared at the clock confused, tilting his head from side to side until finally asking, “What are the lines that are in the numbers spots?”
“Those are Roman numerals bud. The line pattern that takes up the place where a certain number should be is the pattern for that number. See the X? That’s a ten, and you see the V? That, kiddo, is five.” Joey stared at his father, then back at the clock, then back at his father again.
“Why are you so smart Daddy? When I grow up I wanna be just like you,” Joey stated matter-of-factly. A big smile spread across his face as he gave his father a hug and slid out of his arms and ran to explore the new home. Steve stood there looking at the clock, mesmerized.
“I think this week is going to go very well darling,” Patricia reassured him. He had been so taken by the clock that he had not realized her coming up behind him. She now had her arms around his stomach and her head on his shoulder. “The kids already seem to love it, and with the lake right here they can have fun and we can see them and know they’re safe. Safer than home that is.” Patricia laughed into her husband’s shoulder, and he could feel her body shake as she laughed.
“I think so too dear, I think so too.” He turned around and kissed her. “But it’s getting late and we should be getting the kids to bed, shouldn’t we? We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, lots of family fun.” He laughed and watched his wife walk off to go get Joey ready and tell Sally it was time to call it a night. Steve turned back to the clock. What was it about this clock that possessed him? He sat on the couch perpendicular to the fireplace and stared at the mantle. Why was this clock so mesmerizing, so hypnotic?
“Aren’t you coming?” Patricia asked her husband. He sat on the couch, not phased his wife’s voice. “Sweetie, Steve dear…?”
“Oh, yes dear. I’ll come up in a few minutes. I just want to sit here for a while…long drive today.” He sat there staring at the couch. Patricia walked over tentatively and kissed her husband on the forehead.
“I love you Steve, I love you so much. I will see you in the morning, okay?” She walked away slowly from her husband. He sat there; too absorbed in the motion of the clock to say” I love you” or even “Goodnight.” The clock was just about to strike twelve when the ticking began. Not the typical ticking of a clock, but loud drumming coming from the general direction of the Roman clock. Almost as soon as the ticking began, Steve realized something peculiar. As soon as the clock struck twelve the minute hand dropped and began to move counterclockwise. Quickly, the hour hand followed and before he knew it the clock already read 7 o’clock and still continued moving. The loud drum of the clock rang on in Steve’s head until it stopped. The drumming, the backwards movement of the hands, everything just stopped. And he sat there and watched the motionless clock for what seemed like hours. He reached in his pocket to check the time on his phone, but his hands came out empty. Steve realized that he had made the family leave behind all electronic devices so as to enjoy the family bonding more. The clock ceased to move and so did Steve. Then there was darkness. Steve blacked out on the couch.
He woke up later in the night to see that the clock still read 12 o’clock. His head throbbed and he did not know whether he had dreamed it all or if the clock was correct now. Steve grasped the arm of the couch and shoved himself up with a groan. The floor boards creaked as he moved across them slowly, up the stairs, and into he and his wife’s room. He untied his shoes and put on his pajamas slowly, hesitant of waking his wife up. He pulled the blankets up over his body and sunk into the mattress, quickly drifting into a deep sleep. Soon, the sun was beating on his face from the window parallel to the left of the bed. He reached over to grab his wife’s hand, only to realize she was not there. He stretched and yawned, then rubbed his eyes before slowly moseying out of bed. He wrapped his robe around his body and slid his feet into his slippers. As he climbed down the stairs, he could hear his family laughing in the kitchen below.  Feelings of love and joy spread throughout his body. “Good morning everyone! How did we all sleep?” Steve’s wife walked over and kissed him with the skillet in her hand. The smell of waffles and bacon could be smelled all over the house.
“I actually had a really nice dream Dad! You and I and Sal were out on the water and you taught me to swim and then we had a picnic with Mom and it was great!” Joey was bouncing in his seat with the joy of letting his father know the activities of his dreams.
“Sally, what about you?” her father asked kindly. “Did you have any fun dreams?”
“I’m not a child Dad. Don’t treat me like I’m five. Yes I had a dream; no I do not care to share. Is that all you wanted to know?” Sally turned from her father abruptly and resumed eating her breakfast.
“Well okay then, what about you Pat? How’d you sleep?”
“You came to bed really late last night Steve, are you okay? I was going to stay up, but I was so tired and I assumed you would be back soon…” Patricia gave him a worried look.
“I’m just dandy sweetheart, must have fallen asleep on the couch or something. I’m fine though, and ready to have some family fun.” Steve grinned as wide as he could, even though he did not know if what he said were true. He only remembered that the clock had been acting strange last night, but as he looked at it now it seemed fine. I must have been delirious, Steve thought to himself. Clocks don’t just rewind and reset. I was just dreaming, just dreaming. “So why don’t you kids just put on your suits and we all can hope on in to the water? Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“No,” Sally replied abruptly, “It actually sounds the exact opposite. But I assume I will be forced to anyways so…Come on Joey, I will help you find your swim trunks.” Sally helped Joey off of the stool and walked with him up the stairs.
“Thank you for helping your brother Sal. Your mother and I really appreciate it.” Steve turned back to his wife. “That girl is something else ya know? She can be a really good girl though most days, just not when we take her away from society.” Steve laughed and kissed his wife as he headed up the stairs to put on his trunks.
A little while later, the family gathered on the porch. They made plans to meet up in a little while for dinner since the kids and Steve had packed sandwiches for the trip on the lake. The kids kissed their mother goodbye and they headed off on the boat into the morning mist. The lake shone like polished glass and was shattered by the wake of the small power boat. In the middle of the lake, Steve stopped the boat and Sally jumped in head first and began to swim away. “Don’t swim too far Sal, I still want to be able to see you.” Steve turned to his son. “Now it’s your turn bud. Ready to learn how to swim?” Joey nodded his head eagerly, a big smile on his face. “Ok kiddo, don’t worry. Daddy isn’t gonna let anything happen to you,” Steve said as he helped his son onto the ledge of the boat. “Now this is an important skill, may come in handy later in your life, so listen up. What you’re going to do is this. Once you get in the water start moving your legs in a squid like motion and moving your arms in slow circles under the water. Try and keep your head above though. Dad will be right here if you need me.”
Joey slowly lowered himself into the water with his father’s help. He began to furiously kick his legs and circle his arms. Although he looked a wreck, his head never went below the water.  “I’m doing it Dad, I’m doing it!” Joey reached for his father’s hand, now out of breath from all of the work he had put into swimming. Sally headed back towards the boat, and they all got in and cruised away off to other parts of the lake. When the sun started to set, the three headed back in to shore. On the beach, Patricia waited kindly. They all hoped off and gave her hugs, then proceeded to head back to the cabin.
Dinner was typical, chicken and mashed potatoes, and they all talked about their day. Joey ran on and on about learning to swim, and Sally went on about how she had seen some of the most photo worthy scenery in her life on the shores of the lake. Patricia talked about her day and how she had tanned and knitted on the porch. Steve sat, listening to everyone’s stories and laughing at all the silly things he loved about his family. At the conclusion of dinner, the family all went upstairs except for Steve. He sat on the couch and stared intently at the clock again. He had promised himself that he would not get caught up, but something about the decoration enticed him. Once the clock began to inch towards midnight, he began to hear the ticking. The very same drumming noise he had experienced the night before. Walk away Steve, walk away while you still can, he thought to himself. But then the movement began, and the clock began to turn backwards. The rotation of the hands abruptly changing and swooping counterclockwise as they had done the previous night. Before he realized what was happening, Steve was once more blacked out on the couch. However, this time he did not wake up. He only woke up to the sound of his wife and children’s voices as they stampeded down the stairs.
“Steve, sweetie, did you sleep down here? Oh goodness.” Patricia looked at him worriedly.
“I’m fine, I promise. I just…I must have fallen asleep that’s all.” Steve rubbed his eyes and looked up at the clock, it read 9 o’clock.
“Well Dad, I was hoping us three could go swimming again,” Sally offered, “If that’s ok with you and mom…?” Sally looked at her mother for approval. Mrs. Malone nodded her head and so Sally took Joey upstairs to go get ready for the day again. Patricia then walked over to her husband when the children were out of hearing range.
“Are you sure you are ok dear? I can drive the boat.” Steve shook his head.
“No, Pat I’m fine I swear. Just got tired and drifted off.” So by mid-day the kids and Steve were off on the lake again leaving Mrs. Malone to her private day. The day was so similar to the previous, he helped Joey swim and let Sally wander off and do what she wanted, and when the sun began to lower they all conferred back on the boat and headed to shore where they met their mother and went inside for dinner. As the night before, they ate a chicken dinner with mashed potatoes and corn, and laughed about their day. Steve laughed mechanically between sporadic glances at the clock on the mantle, the Roman clock. What was it about the clock that was so mysterious? Just as the night before, the family all headed up before Steve. He sat again and waited on the couch, and like clockwork at quarter to midnight the drumming began. Soon after, the clock began to rotate counterclockwise and he then found himself blacked out on the couch, waking up to his family’s voices coming down the stairs.
That is how his days went, what seemed like years passed by. Every day just like the last, same activities, same food, same clock. The clock began to represent the order of disorder. Although it disoriented him, it was clockwork, always constant and always the same. Steve was slowly losing it, being driven into madness by the monotony of the days. How long had they been at the house on the lake? Steve couldn’t tell, and feared if he asked he would be looked at as crazy. So the days went on, slowly mixing together until it was all just one endless day. His wife began to realize the changes in her husband and began to worry. One evening, when he seemed at his most paranoid, before she went to bed she confronted him.
“Steve, I’m worried. You’re starting to scare me and it’s not ok that the kids see you like this. What is wrong, talk to me? We are married; we should be able to talk!” She stared at him, anticipating a response.
“See the clock? That is what’s wrong. It drums, and it moves backwards. The ticking, Patricia, the ticking. Listen to the ticking.” He stared at the clock madly.
“This is what I mean Steve! What ticking? The clock is broken! It has been since the day we arrived!” Patricia stood up and backed away from her husband. “I don’t know what has gotten into you Steve, but you’re scaring me. You are really freaking me out.” She turned and ran up the stairs, locking their bedroom door as she got inside.
“They all think you’re crazy Steve. ‘Ticking, what ticking?’ I hear the ticking, Steve hears the ticking.” And the clock began to rotate, moving quickly backwards as he let out a maniacal laugh and blacked out.
The next morning he woke up to the sound of his wife’s voice and his wife’s voice alone. “I sent the kids out on the boat Steve, Sally has her boater’s license and I don’t want them out there alone with you. Not with how you’ve been acting lately.”
  “But you are ok alone with me, are you?” Steve slowly climbed off the couch. His face looked emaciated from the lack of sleep over the time span at the cabin. He had black rings around his eyes and his skin seemed to droop over his skull. He slowly crept in on his wife. “Too afraid, are you Patricia? Scared of your dear husband Steve?”
Cornered into a chair, Patricia fell into the cushioning across from the fireplace. “Steve, please stop this madness. We are leaving today, I already have the kids’ bags packed and once they get back tonight we head home. Calm down…I’m begging you.” Tears began to stream down Patricia’s face as she realized why her husband had been searching the room and now was walking towards her with a rope they used for waterskiing. She jolted up out of her chair, but Steve was too quick and grabbed her using the rope and pulled her back into the chair and began tying her up.
He began whispering in her ear, “You all think I’m crazy. Silly Steve is crazy, but he isn’t. See the clock, the Roman clock, it’s moving. Do you see it moving?” He tied the rope tighter and tighter around his wife’s body.
“I see it Steve, I see it. The clock is moving Steve, I-” The wind was knocked out of her by the tugging of the rope. She began to sob as her husband walked back into the kitchen. “Why are you doing this? You love me, and you love the kids, and we are going home!” Steve came stumbling into the living room again with a box of matches. He opened the box and struck a match. “NO! No Steve, don’t do this! Stop!” He placed the first match on the back of her chair, and the second and third on her arm rests. The chair went up in flames, along with his wife’s clothing.
Steve then began to throw matches around the living room until the whole lower floor was ablaze with crimson red fire. He maniacally laughed as he resided to the couch and listened to the ticking of the clock and the screaming of his wife. “Tick tock, goes the clock, tick tock, tick tock.” His pants began to burn, leading up to his shirt until the fire surrounded him and consumed him.

Outside, the kids began to see smoke coming from their house and raced back. As they rounded the bank they saw the cabin, smothered in flames. Sally started screaming for help, but no one was around to hear them. Joey jumped in the water and tried to swim to the shore but started to choke on water until Sally dragged him out and pulled him into her arms. They waded out the fire until the house and all its accessories were just a pile of burnt wood and charred furniture. They could not find the bodies of their parents in the remnants of the fire. Sally and Joey drove the boat as close to shore as they could, and then climbed through the water the rest of the way. As they approached the house, there was one thing that they immediately noticed. Among the wreck, untouched by the fire, stood the mantle and the Roman clock. Time untouched by the rest of the world.

Poe's Obsessio with Death

Poe’s Obsession with Death

            A generally gloomy and avoided subject, Edgar Allan Poe embraces death with a fanatical attitude, incorporating the idea in many of his classic short stories. Poe plays on fear, and the human race’s various emotions. He also touches on people’s insane dedication to avoid death. By writing short stories that do not contain a lovable protagonist and a happy ending like most, Poe made his name famous. Poe used his knowledge of the truths of death and its effect on man to create skin chilling, sometimes horrific stories. By comparing many of Poe’s stories side by side, readers can see his obvious obsession with death. The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, The Black Cat, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Masque of Red Death, and The Fall of the House of Usher exhibit his fascination exceptionally. Poe employs bleak imagery and pungent diction to delve the reader into a world where everything embodies death.

            In The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar, Poe shows extreme empathy toward the human fear of death. M. Valdemar succumbs to the narrator’s wishes to experiment on him with hypnotism in the period closest to his decease. His enthusiasm in participating in an activity that may prolong his death can be directly related to his fear of death itself. Valdemar states himself in the story, when the narrator finally decides to initiate the experiment, “I fear you have deferred it too long” (Poe, “Facts in the Case” 3). This comment can be seen as Valdemar’s fear that he may not have as good a chance of living longer now as he had if the narrator had commenced the experiment sooner. Like all people, Valdemar wished to find an alternative besides death. Of course, there is no other option. Though many try to escape death, no one has or will ever succeed. As portrayed in The Masque of Red Death as well, all things answer to time. Even Death cannot conquer time and deceive it, in the end all things die. The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar contained large amounts of imagery, much like every Poe story. The most vivid description was when the narrator described what Valdemar did as a reaction to one of the repetitions to his question. “The eyes rolled themselves slowly open, the pupils disappearing upwardly; the skin generally assumed a cadaverous hue, resembling not so much parchment as white paper…the upper lip, at the same time, writhed itself away from the teeth…while the lower jaw fell with an audible jerk, leaving the mouth widely extended, and disclosing in full view the swollen and blackened tongue” (Poe, “Facts in the Case” 5). This narrative could strike chills into the hearts of the strongest men. Just the thought that Poe can describe something so vividly, that he was comfortable talking of death and how it looked, a topic typically avoided, in such a nonchalant manner. Like Poe, the narrator seems to have an intense fascination on death and the effects it may or may not have on mesmerism. Not many spend their days wondering whether or not hypnosis is possible in the time of death and even have a plan to execute how they will find out whether it is. This is just as odd and parallels with Poe’s fascination with death.

            However, The Black Cat plays on superstition, ironically enough. Although the narrator states that he is not saying that he is certain the events of the story correlate, by the end it is evident that he was sure that the circumstances were due to the sin of killing his cat Pluto.  The story definitely contains all gothic elements, especially the element of macabre and madness. (Not only does the man gouge the eye of his cat out and murder his wife with an axe to the head, he cares more about finding and executing the cat than worrying about the burden he should be carrying on his soul for the murder of his wife.) The passion Poe shows for writing about death and the coming of death is well shown through his immaculate description of how the narrator felt when the police looked in his cellar for the fourth time, saying that his “heart beat calmly as that of one who slumbers in innocence” (“The Black Cat” 6). Poe also goes on in vivid description of the noise the cat made when they found it in the wall of the cellar. Only a man so attracted to death as Poe was could describe such scenarios as this.

            The Pit and the Pendulum was easily the most grotesque. Not only did it play on fear, fear of turning into the victim, but it hinted at another fear seen most in young children. In the earlier portion of the story, Poe writes “My worst thoughts, then, were confirmed. The blackness of eternal night encompassed me” (“The Pit and the Pendulum” 2). Although it is not directly stated, Poe is playing on the fear of the dark. It is not so much the fear of the dark itself, but the fact that no one knows what is in the black, dark room. There is no way that the narrator would have known the pit was in the room had he not valiantly chosen to explore the room. This directly connects with Poe’s use of the gothic element of “The New Frontier.” Poe’s use of imagery is also very clear in The Pit and the Pendulum. “(The rats) leaped in hundreds upon my person…They pressed – they swarmed upon me in ever accumulating heaps. They writhed upon my throat; their cold lips sought my own…” (Poe, “Pit and the Pendulum” 6). While reading, readers can practically visualize the rats swarming the man’s body and clambering up and down his arms, legs, chest, and even his neck and face.

            Poe’s extreme use of symbolism is shown in The Masque of Red Death. When the partiers charge the figure shrouded in garments from the grave he “stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock” (Poe, “Red Death” 6) in the black compartment of the palace. Eventually the figure ends up actually being a personification of the Red Death and all the people Prince Prospero had brought in to protect end up dying. The symbolism shown here is one of the hierarchies of what rules over what. Though the partiers, humans, answer to Death, Death will always answer to time. Even when all the people on the planet are dead and Death no longer has a purpose, there will always be time to rule over the rest of the planet. Of course the story has a tang of sardonic humor considering Prince Prospero locked all of the nobility in his palace trying to save them, but by doing so he sealed them into their grave. The Red Death is known today as the plague, which led to the dissolution of approximately ¼ of the European population. Poe’s obsession with death allowed him to find pleasure in writing a story about the decease of hundreds of people and a disease that killed a large fraction of the European population.

            The Fall of the House of Usher exemplifies Poe’s obsession at its finest. Not only is the story the epitome of gothic, but its imagery and diction are profound. When describing the emaciated figure of Lady Madeline of Usher after breaking free from her coffin,  readers can practically see the Lady Madeline. Likewise, in the narrator’s statement, “There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated frame” (Poe, “House of Usher” 18), Poe incorporates the gothic element of the macabre. Poe also does a spectacular job of setting the scene. His first sentence saying it was a “…dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens…” (Poe, “House of Usher” 1). The setting Poe creates is the embodiment of what death would look like if it were to be a day. Only a man intensely passionate about death could set a scene so perfectly fit for death and destruction.

            All of this considered it is difficult to argue that Poe did not have an obsession with death. Not only does he use bone-shaking imagery in every story, but he uses similar diction in all five stories. In three specifically he uses the word “gossamer.” The definition for gossamer is a word used to refer to something very light, thin, and insubstantial. The definition is also a fine, filmy substance consisting of cobwebs spun by small spiders, which is seen especially in autumn. Used in The Pit and the Pendulum, The Fall of the House of Usher, and The Black Cat, the word gossamer is used to help set the tone of the story. Word such as agony, melancholy, and insufferable gloom (all seen throughout the five stories) also help set the dreary tone of the story. Poe’s word choice is dictated by his obsession with death and all things dark and eerie.

Poe’s love for the death can be seen through his diction and imagery in his short stories.  His obsession with the uncomfortable topic allows him to tap into human minds and touch on every emotion, but specifically fear. By playing on people’s fear of death and their want to prolong it, Poe is able to create depth to his short stories. Through his diction, Poe is able to set the tone of his story which is typically twisted or melancholy. With his imagery Poe is able to create vivid images that send chills up reader’s spines. No man that did not love death would possess the ability to write so passionately about death as Edgar Allan Poe does.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Poe, Edgar A. "The Black Cat." PoeStories.com. Ed. Roberto Giordano. N.p., 1845. Web. 10 Mar. 2012.

Poe, Edgar A. "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar." PoeStories.com. Ed. Roberto Giordano. N.p., 1845. Web. 10 Mar. 2012.

Poe, Edgar A. "The Fall of the Usher." PoeStories.com. Ed. Roberto Giordano. N.p., 1839. Web. 8 Mar. 2012.

Poe, Edgar A. "The Masque of Red Death." PoeStories.com. Ed. Roberto Giordano. N.p., 1850. Web. 10 Mar. 2012.

Poe, Edgar A. "The Pit and the Pendulum." PoeStories.com. Ed. Robert Giordano. N.p., 1850. Web. 10 Mar. 2012.

The Snake in the Red Dress

Evelyn McMillan was slightly more than average. She was thin and beautiful, but she was never the highlight of the crowd. She was a 26 year old college student and like many college students, Evelyn knew how to have fun. She frequently went out, and she frequently went out with young men. It wasn’t difficult for Evelyn to find suitors considering she was one of the prettier options on campus. With her long, dark brown hair and her deep, piercing green eyes, it was very easy for her to get the attention she wanted. Evelyn also had a roommate named Beth. Beth was not more than average; in fact, Beth was what many would refer to as “the ugly stepsister” of the pair. It isn’t that Beth was not pretty, but her beauty was not conventional. She had short blonde hair and brown eyes hidden behind her thick glasses. Where Evelyn was audacious and fun, Beth was simple and reserved.

Though the two girls were so different, they were close. Many nights, Evelyn would tell Beth to “Get ready, and get dressed because we are going out!” In response to Beth’s protest, Evelyn would practically shove her out the door. The girls would typically go to a night club called The Snake, where they served their famous drink the Poison Apple-tini. There Evelyn would meet the boys that she would soon break the hearts of while Beth would sit at the bar and drink with acquaintances from various classes. However, this story isn’t about Beth and Evelyn’s average night.

On a cold mid-January night, Evelyn made Beth come out for a celebratory party. Outside it was dark and fog hovered above the ground like vultures over a carcass. When they arrived at the club there was a plethora of other university students there celebrating the end of the semester. Above the loud music, Evelyn could hear Beth trying to speak.

“What are you saying?” Evelyn screamed to Beth as she moved in close to her face.

“What? I’m- I’m trying to say that I should go back to the dorm. There are just so many people and-”

“What! No Beth, stay here. You worked your butt off all this term and now it’s time for you to have a little fun. Meet a cute boy or something. It’s about time you stop only having your books!”

Beth looked down at the floor; she looked at the black heels that Evelyn had made her wear and tugged at the hem of the “hot” skirt Evelyn had forced her into. She shuffled her feet uncomfortably and then looked back at her friend. Evelyn always had a way of giving people this look that made you want to make her happy, that made you want to gain her approval. “Okay. Fine, I will stay. But you have to promise that you won’t-“

“Oh thank you Beth. Yay! We are going to have the time of our lives!” And with that Evelyn took off dancing into a mass of other young, wild twenty-something’s.

Beth stood there, unsure what to say or do. “-leave me.” Beth headed over to the bar and managed to squeeze her way through a group of rowdy 3^rd year boys. She couldn’t believe that Evelyn had left her yet again. So for another night, Beth sat at the bar and watched as Evelyn got all the attention she wanted from all the men in the room. But from the other side of the room she didn’t realize the attractive male staring at her.

 After ten minutes of fighting with himself, he downed his gin and tonic and mustered up the courage to walk over and talk to the cute girl he had his eyes fixated on since the minute she walked in. “Hi, I’m Ben.” Beth looked up at him and blinked. For a second she looked around wondering whether it was her that he was really talking to. “Hi, I’m…umm Beth. I’m Beth.” Her cheeks turned a bright red, but in the dark room no one noticed. From somewhere in the middle of the crowd, Evelyn saw Beth and smiled. However, once her view was clear she saw that Beth was not alone. Beth was with a boy, possibly even the cutest boy in the club. Beth was laughing and smiling, and the boy seemed to be enjoying her company as much as Beth seemed to enjoy his. Evelyn waved goodbye to the boy she had been dancing with and headed in Beth’s direction.

“Well hey there Beth, who’s your friend?” Evelyn stood behind Beth’s chair and stared at Ben, her eyes hooked on him. He was wearing a black, collared shirt and a pair of dark jeans that fit him very well in her opinion. His dark brown hair was cut short and his silver watch gleamed in the colored lights of the club.

“Oh, umm this is Ben. Ben this is my roomie Evelyn.” Beth looked passively at Evelyn with the look of defeat. She knew that once Ben met Evelyn he would no longer want to talk to her.

Ben looked at Evelyn. She was wearing a little black dress that he thought emphasized the “little” too much. Her dark hair fell on her shoulders just slightly curled and her long thin fingers grasped onto Beth’s shoulder. Evelyn looked as if she were trying to hard according to him. “Well hello,” Ben quickly responded and turned back to Beth. “Wanna go dance?”

Beth looked shocked. No one had ever chosen her over Evelyn. “Umm….I mean, of course. Yeah, let’s dance.”

Evelyn watched as Ben walked away holding Beth’s hand and dragging her through the crowd. Beth kept turning and looking back at Evelyn as she was whisked away into the crowd, her face a mixture of sheer joy and apology. And Evelyn sat there, appalled by what had just taken place. No one picked Beth over Evelyn, it was a rule. It was a law of nature that had just been upset.

Evelyn sat at the bar and watch Beth. A feeling began to creep up inside of her, a feeling that was unknown to her and unwanted. Jealousy. Evelyn hated being shown up and she glared enviously in the direction of the duo dancing on the floor. How dare he she thought? Who is he to pick her over me? And as time elapsed, her envy grew. It got deeper and thicker, and almost consumed her. It was all she could do to sit there until she could see nothing but the two of them dancing.

“Wanna drink?” She heard a feminine voice behind her. Evelyn turned around and saw a sleek, light skinned woman. Her light, pin straight, blonde hair fell softly on her shoulders and overlapped her dark red dress. She was thin and the bar only came up to her waist. It was obvious that she was wearing stilettos because her legs looked slimmer than average legs and the curve of her back was accentuated which Evelyn could see as she turned to make a martini. When she turned back Evelyn looked at her dark, black eyes and her attention was drawn to her bright red lips as they separated and revealed her sharp white teeth. “So do you want the drink?” She pushed the martini glass in Evelyn’s direction. 

“No thank you,” Evelyn politely refused as she pushed the martini glass back in the bartender’s direction. She glanced back at the pair on the dance floor enviously.

“It must be killing you,” the woman. “He is so cute, and she is just so…average.” Evelyn starred at the woman. She could not believe her ears. The bartender was actually egging her on.

“Excuse me, who are you? Who do you think you are?”

“Different cultures have called me different things. Some call me Hecate and some call me Lilith. You may have even heard me called Mania.” She smiled a sick, twisted smile. “But as far as we are concerned you can call be Santana.” Her smile grew wider as Evelyn began to realize who the woman in front of her was. “So I will ask again. Do you want the drink?” And she pushed the drink closer to Evelyn.

“What does it do?” Evelyn asked the woman hesitantly.

“I know your deepest desires. You want him, and I can make him want you. She doesn’t need him, and she will live if he chooses you.” The woman stood there swirling the red liquid in the glass. “All I need is one simple thing in return. The price that everyone pays, you pay your soul in order to get everything you’ve ever wanted. Think on it.” The woman walked away to serve other people at the bar. And as she did, Evelyn realized that with every Apple-tini she served not only did the bartender walk away looking more accomplished, but another olive popped up in the jar behind the bar. By this time of night the jar was halfway full. The woman started to walk back Evelyn’s way. “So the price, are you willing to pay? Why live your life unhappy? Everything is better once you’ve tasted the apple. Just one sip, one sip and the deal is sealed. I get your soul and you get what you want.” The bartender pushed the glass even closer to Evelyn. Evelyn picked up the glass by the stem and eyed the liquid. Was it worth it she wondered?

“Bottoms up,” and with that Evelyn drank the liquid down quickly. Santana stood there and a smirk spread across her face, a sick smirk that could have sent shivers up the bravest man’s back. As the liquid set in, Evelyn could feel the difference it made.

A few minutes later Beth came up to Evelyn giggling and loud. “Hey, it’s time for me to go home. But can you please keep Ben company? He doesn’t want to leave and I don’t want to be the reason he leaves.”

“Umm…yeah, sure I will keep him company,” Evelyn said with a polite smile.

“Ok, thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” Beth smiled and gave her a hug. “You are the best Evelyn, just the best.”

As Beth walked away Ben came up to her, the liquid starting to really set in her system. “Well hello again.” Ben awkwardly sat down at the stool next to her. The bartender brought a drink to him and winked. The drink smelled like cotton candy, and Ben sipped it as he sat next to her. As he kept drinking his face began to change and the way he looked at her melted into a soft passionate expression. “So how was your night? Sorry we left you here all night.”

“Oh it’s ok. You are a good dancer.” Evelyn leaned in closer to hear him talk.

“Yeah, but I bet you are too, though.” With that he grabbed her hand and dragged her to the dance floor. They began to dance and kept dancing for hours. At one o’clock they decided it was probably time to part ways. They headed to the door and before she could turn and say goodbye he was right there in her face. He was so close, and before she knew it they were kissing. But as soon as it started it was over, and she was putting her number in his phone. As they parted ways her phone started to ring.

“Hello? Umm yes this is her….Yes she is my roommate….She is where?....I-I will be right there.” She quickly threw her phone into her bag and ran to her car. She put the keys in the ignition and sped to the hospital. Evelyn parked the car and ran into the Emergency Room. “Where is she? Beth, Beth Barnes, what room?” Evelyn ran to the room, and saw Beth’s parents were sitting there crying.

“She’s in a coma,” the mother said between sobs. “She was on the way back, back to the dorm and-and another car hit her at an intersection. She was so young!” The mother wailed and hid her face in her husband’s arms.

“I-I’m…I’m so sorry Mrs. Barnes, I shouldn’t have let her leave.” The room was silent and after a few more minutes of silence, Evelyn said goodbye and left the hospital.

It only took two days for the doctors to realize that Beth would be not be recovering, and in a week the doctors pulled the plug with the permission of her parents. The funeral was held two weeks later, and everyone was dressed in black. Beth’s parents were crying, and all their campus friends were there. The coffin was buried and as it went down the mother began to sob. She fell to the ground in a heap of wails and convulses. At the end of the ceremony everyone hugged her parents and left the grounds.

Although the ceremony was over, Evelyn decided to walk around the cemetery and look at all the monuments. Halfway down one aisle way Evelyn saw a figure at the other end about 60 feet away. As they walked closer to each other she realized it was Ben.

“Hi Evelyn,” Ben said in an eerie tone.

“Hi, I’m glad you came. It’s a tragedy, she was so young.” The two walked closer as they talked.

“It really was. She was such a pretty girl…” He was close enough to touch now.

“She was, wasn’t she?” He pulled her in and kissed her. And then they stood there in the cemetery. In the quiet morning mist, the air was damp and smelled musty.

“I was just wondering, would you like to go on a date with me sometime? I know with all of this going on it may be hard and we can wait until it’s-”

“No. It’s fine. We weren’t that close anyways.” Evelyn lied. “How does this Friday sound?” They made a date and he walked away. Evelyn stood in the mist of the morning, alone in the cemetery.

 “It’s nice isn’t it?” Evelyn jumped and turned around only to see the bartender sitting on top of the nearest monument. “When everything goes your way and you get what you want. Too bad she had to die for you to get what you want, right?”

“Yes it is. But I didn’t tell you to kill her, I didn’t know this would happen. I’m very happy though, we have a date this Friday.” The woman jumped off the monument and landed swiftly on her toes. Not a sound was made even though she was still wearing the outfit from the night they had first met. Evelyn could now see that the dress ended at the woman’s mid-thigh and slanted down in a pattern of zigzagged edges. The hem looked as if it had been burnt and shaded by fire and smoke.

“Well it’s a pity you won’t be making it then isn’t it.” The blonde crept closer and as she did so Evelyn began to slowly pace backwards.

“What do you mean? We had a deal, I get what I want and when I die you get my soul. I haven’t gone back on my half!” Evelyn was terrified and the devil could see it. A smirk began to cross her face, her red lips parted and a smile broke out on her face. She even began to laugh, but her laugh was dry and petrifying.

“We made a deal that you would get what you wanted and I would get your soul. The deal never said only when you were dead. I have come to collect my pay in full.” She crept even closer now and Evelyn had nowhere to turn. Before Evelyn even had the chance to run the devil had grabbed her by her dress. “No running for you my little paycheck.” The bartender held tight to Evelyn’s body and she began to shrink. Evelyn actually began to shrivel and turn green, and soon enough she was just an olive on the ground. The woman bent over and picked up the olive off the ground and held it between her thumb and pointer-finger. “Your kind never learns do they?” The woman shrieked with laughter and popped the olive into her mouth. She then walked off into the cemetery into the January morning mist.

That was the last time Evelyn was ever seen, and that Friday when Ben sat there waiting at the restaurant it is said that a blonde woman in a red dress and black stilettos stopped by the table and warned him not to wait. “You may end up waiting a lifetime for her to come,” and the woman walked away. According to legend that was the last time she was ever seen at The Snake.

Reaction to the Twain Trial

As Mark Twain, the case was very personal. Of course, I didn't want to lose but I did want the trial to be a true representation of Twain as if he himself were on the stand. I am very happy that Mark was not found guilty. Although I feel the prosecution did a very phenomenal job at battling against the defense, the defense also had a wonderful argument.

For the beginning half of the jury's discussion I swore they would name me guilty. The things I had heard led me to believe that they thought that no one on the defense was liable. For many of the testimonies from the defense I understand their hesitation. The Duke, a known con-man, is possibly the most unreliable and most likely to lie under oath. Of course, we have to remember that this is not a real trial and he wouldn't lie in a false trial. But in a real trial, I can see why the jury would be hesitant to believe a man with such little moral character. Luckily for the defense, if the Duke is an invalid resource then any evidence the prosecution gets from him is untrustworthy.

The truth in Huck’s testimony on the other hand, was very difficult to judge. Although he swears that what he says is a true recollection of what happened, the book also said that there were some “stretchers”. This brings into question the credibility of Huck as a character and witness. This partially crippled the defense’s case considering that he was possibly the second best witness, second only to Twain himself. By questioning Huck’s credibility, this also helps raise the prosecution’s case. Between Huck and Jim, if Huck is the untrustworthy one then Jim is the most reliable. Since Jim is a witness for the prosecution, this helps the prosecution but hurts the defense.  

To me, Mark Twain was the only truly reliable character. I do not just say this because I played him, but because who really knows better the thoughts of Mark Twain than Mark Twain? The jury during their discussion brought into the question of Twain’s credibility, I thought that was ridiculous. I thought that the jury was just being paranoid, and they actually trusted no one on either side. In all honesty, is a real trial questioning Twain’s views on racism a jury would most likely side with Twain after the trial we as a class just saw. Not only did Twain give a splendid performance, but this is Twain himself and only he can give a fully honest, one-hundred percent accurate portrayal of his thoughts and ideals, especially under oath.

Since I was Twain, I am obviously very happy that I was not found guilty. I do not believe for one minute that I deserved to be named guilty. However, with the prosecution’s cross examinations, witnesses, and evidence, it is not hard to believe that there was indecisiveness among the jurors. It would have been interesting to see Twain named guilty and hear the argument as to why he was voted such though.

All in all, it must have been a very difficult decision for the jury. Both the defense and the prosecution were very convincing and very on track in their arguments.  The defense was very good at coaxing the jury over onto Twains side. However, the prosecutions aggressiveness and determination to convict who they believed to be a racist help them gain jury votes. The passion on both sides was very convincing and I truly believe that the jury had the hardest job, deciding whether or not they trusted the defense or the prosecution the least. The jury believed no one, but it was really a matter of who is the least untrustworthy.

Huck Finn Post 3

Huck's episode with the Grangerfords is very interesting due to it's melancholy mood, allusion to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, and it's humor.
Although the story of Emmeline is supposed to be satirical, it is actually quite sad and depressing. The fact the the family "kept Emmeline's room trim and nice, and all the things fixed in it just the way she liked it" (Twain 106). Twain was making sattirical reference to the Victorian Age where everyone was facinated with death. Even though is is supposed to be mockery (a slight parody in fact), it is sad that the famly mourns over their relative so persistently. It is very eery and seems twisted. Also, another moment of sheer sadness is when Huck must cover Buck's dead body. " I cried a little when I was covering up Buck's face for he was mighty good to me" (Twain 117). Huck had grown so close to the young man and his family that to see them be torn apart and killed was a tremendous weigh tput on his conscience. Just the fact that Huck, a 13 or so year old boy, must deal with seeing so many people in his life killed is very depressing.
The Grangerfords also have an allusion of the classic romance play, Romeo and Juliet. Like in the tragic love story, Sophia falls in love Harney who is a member of the Grangerfords rival family, The Shepherdsons. Huck becomes involved when Miss Sophia asks him to go retrieve something from the chapel that she had left there. It turns out the book she left contained a note saying at what time they would meet to run away. Of couse, at the time that Huck read it he would never have guessed that is what the note was for or what it meant. Just like in Romeo and Juliet, the love of the two ends up creating a mess and ends with fatalities on both sides of the feuding fmilies. This time though, it ended not with the death of the lovers but of Hucks new friend Buck. "I judged I ought to told her father about that paper and the curious way she acted, and then maybe he would 'a' locked her up, and this awful mess woldn't ever happened" (Twain 116). It is sad that Huck bears the weight of his death on his conscience, but it can be understood why.
Moreover, the episodes with the Grangerfords bear many moments of pure humor. One such example being when Buck tries to shoot Harney and Buck then has to explain what a feud is the Huck. What is so funny about this is that when Huck tries to understand what the feud is about, he asks what caused the families to fight like such and all Buck can say is "I reckon maybe-I don't know" (Twain 110). The two families have been feuding for decades and multiple generations, but it has been so long that they currently do not know what they are fighting over. The don't even know who began the feud, but they have no problems continuing what they were taught and fighting the other family. It is comical that they have no problem killing mulitple members of each family but thy do not even bother to see whether what began the feud was even woth killing one person over. Another moment of comedy is when Buck begins to speak of how brave the Shepherdsons are. The wording in which he puts it is what makes is so funny. "...becuz they don't breed any of that kind" (Twain 111) makes it sound like he is admiring their courage and saying that tey have no panzies in their family, but he still hates them so much for a reason that he doesn't know!

Huck Finn Post #2

Huck and Jim have a very uncommon reletionship for a young, white male and a runaway slave. Their relationship is very close to the relationship a father and son possess. This can be seen through the way they talk and interact with one another.
In Chapter 14, there is a scene where Huck and Jim are sitting around telling one another stories. What is so unusual about this scene, a scene that can be viewed as typical father-son interaction, is that Huck plays the role of the father. Where the the father usually talks and tells the stories, Huck (the younger of the two) is the character trying to make Jim see the point of the fable of King Solomon. After Jim talks about how Solomon wasn't truly wise because he was going to cut a child in half, Huck says "But hang it, Jim, you've clean missed the point-blame it, you've missed it a thousand mile" (Twain 82). In the average father-son scenario, the father figure would be the one to explain why the child had missed the point. Here, Huck assumes the role of the father and tries to explain to Jim how it was just a test and Solomon wasn't actually going to cut the child in half, but like a child Jim is stubborn and refuses to change his mind on Solomon. This portion of the chapter depicts the paternal relations between Jim and Huck, but the way they act towards each other exeplifies it even more.
Throughout the whole novel so far, the way Jim and Huck act towards each other is very protective. Much like how a son works to protect his son, Jim protects Huck. A good example being when the two found the dead man in th floating house, Jim tells Huck "Come in, Huck, but doan' look at his face-it's too gashly" (Twain 57). This instinct to protect Huck from the grotesque thing in life is the same instinct that a father has to protect his son from any danger, whether physical or mental impurification. Not only does the way Jim act towards Huck protection wise display his fatherly affection towards him, his loving manner shows his paternal role in Hucks life on the river. When the Grangerfords start to fight and shoot, Jim thinks that Huck is in the middle of the dispute. Jim believe Huck to be dead, but when he learns that he is very much so alive his reaction portrays that of a worried father to his son. "...nothing ever sounded so good before. I run along the bank a piece and got aboard, and Jim he grabbed me and hugged me, he was so glad to see me" (Twain 117). The way Jim greets Huck is the way any parent would if they realized that their child was safe instead of whatever terrible thing they believed they were. Jim hugs him and tells Huck just how worried he was. This is one of the most parental moments in the book so far, and it just emphasizes the father-son relationship that Jim and Huck share even more.

Huck Finn Post #1

By the end of the tenth chapter, it is still difficult to have a a full opinion on Huck. Huck is a very complicated character to figure out. It is hard to decide whether or not I think he is a good kid or a complete rufian. Although it seems like Huck is quite dull, he is actually quite a witty young man and is very superstitious. Huck is also very much so a jokester, and he shows this through his interactions with the other characters.
Huck is a very sharp young boy. The way he decieves the town is one of the most brilliant plans I have ever read about. The way he "blooded up the ax good, and stuck it on the backside, and the ax in the corner" (Twain 41) was brilliant. He focused in on every detail of the murder, down to the blood dragged on the floor and the trail of grain leading to the river. He always compares himself to Tom Sawyer but in fact I think that he is just as brilliantly twisted and fantastic.
Superstition is not only something Huck believes in, but it is also a theme of the book. The book is heavily superstiious and with every page turn comes another superstition. In chapter 10 Huck mentions they also mention how looking at a new moon over your left shoulder is the worst luck possible. Jim also says that "the worst bad luck in the world to touch a snakeskin with my hands" (Twain 58). Huck and Jim even discuss just how bad of luck touching a snakeskin is. This also leads to Hucks' foolery at the end of Chapter 10.
When Huck kills a rattlesnake at the end beginning of Chapter ten and puts it at the foot of Jim's bed, he did not remember that the mate of the snake would come curl around the dead body. So "by night I (Huck) frogot all about the snake, and when Jim flung himself down on the blanket while I struck a light the snake's mate was there, and bit him" (Twain 59). This leads is technically the "fulfillment" of the bad luck from Huck touching a snakeskin. I assume that there will be many more practical jokes from Huck, and I believe it is easy to say that mostly all will end poorly like this one.
Huck is a very complex character, and I cannot quite figure out why I think this. It may be that I believe even though he misbehaves he is truly good at heart, but I am not sure. Either way, Huck is difficult, but by the end of the tenth chapter there are three very definite traits about him. He is a witty, superstitious jokester who will be causing trouble for himself and all those close to him.