After reviewing my blog full of a semester worth of work for my English 102 class I was fascinated by the amount of work that I have accomplished. As I looked over nineteen posts filled with information that was based off of interesting writings with archetypes, monomyths, symbols, and supernatural themes I saw where how I could improve upon my earlier writings. Throughout this course I’ve realized how important it is to have as much background knowledge on whatever it is that you are interested in. With background knowledge such as the monomythic structure and archetypes, I’ve realized exactly how much work goes into the making of a supernatural themed piece of work. I have been writing a short story of my own and in this story I have a strict supernatural theme accompanied by a hero. This course has inspired me to do the necessary research that I had never before even thought of doing to help better my story in a professional sense. Even now while watching movies or reading books I can clearly see how symbolic actions and the monomyth come into play, I even tend to look for certain aspects of the monomyth as well as how the characters are seen and what type of archetypes they may be portraying. I have skimmed over my blog and realized several ways in which I could improve upon my earlier assignments by digging deeper into symbolic actions which are now obvious to me. I also began looking at other students’ work and I found a new appreciation for the different ways in which several people can see the same thing. I have always appreciated different viewpoints but it is hard to see several viewpoints if you are the only one writing. I stumbled upon one blog in specific, it was written by a fellow classmate name Jacklyn. Her blog was on the topic of archetypes and symbolism found in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. The assignment was to upload a Youtube video of a scene in Macbeth that you found interesting then to accompany it with a couple paragraphs of your own analysis of the video using archetypes and symbols. She chose the scene where the three witches were in the midst of performing a spell on Macbeth. From her writing you can see that she really dug deeply into the symbolic actions of the witches. She wrote about every action that I saw in the video and even more that I didn’t even pay attention to; the witches coughing and the spitting on Macbeth’s severed hand. She spoke of how the coughing witch must be the oldest and have the biggest amount of strength in the powers of Wicca and how the spitting meant that the spell would take affect sooner then later. I found this extremely interesting because even after a full semester of intense symbolism and supernatural training, I am still learning things that seem to be elementary. I will continue researching, reading and watching movies dealing with the supernatural to further my knowledge and improve upon my writing skills in order to one day publish my final project or at least what’s left of it.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Final Project (edited) The Seer
The Seer
I do not know why I received this miraculous gift. That is, if you can call it a gift. Some would consider it a terrible curse. Either way, I do not know why I was chosen nor do I know who chose me. All I know is that I was never to be normal again. Not since that night.
My name is Nicholas Conners. I live in New York City
That night happened in the summer of '63. It was a dark night; the only light that illuminated the desolate streets that lay ahead of me came from the few lamp posts that haven't yet been broken by stray bullets or bored kids. That night was foggy. The thick mist that hovered over the city made it hard for me to see far ahead, and the lack of lights didn't help. As I shuffled my feet against the uneven concrete, thinking about god knows what, I noticed a black car creeping out of the heavy fog towards me. I had no reason to suspect that it was coming for me, but my stomach clenched up nethertheless. The clenching slowly and steadily turned into a sharp pain when the car pulled over next to me and I saw who lowered the backseat window.
It was Anthony Backarella, the sole man who controlled both organized and disorganized crime in Hell's Kitchen. He was the king of criminals, the mastermind behind destruction, and the hand that controlled the puppets who did his dirty work. He was powerful and untouchable. He was hungry for my blood.
"Well if it isn't the brave Nicholas Conners. Mr. Brass Balls himself. Do you know who I am?" he asked, in his deep and raspy voice.
"Yes," I whispered, mortified by what was happening.
"Of course you know who I am. You must know who I am. It were your fingers, after all, that typed my name in the same sentence as the name of a respectable and deceased police officer... it was your mind that chose the adjectives that described the crime that you claim I committed... your hands that handed the finished article to your editor for printing."
"I... I...," but my words failed me. My knees started to tremble as I saw Backarella's arm extending out of the window. In his hand he was clutching the gold handle of his .44 Magnum that had taken countless lives at the squeeze of its trigger. My trembling became uncontrollable and sweat started to profusely drip down my forehead.
"Did I sound like I was finished? I should warn you, I’m not too fond of interruptions, especially when I am speaking. Now, did you really think I was gonna let you slip by with that article you wrote two weeks ago?”
"Yes," I whispered, mortified by what was happening.
"Of course you know who I am. You must know who I am. It were your fingers, after all, that typed my name in the same sentence as the name of a respectable and deceased police officer... it was your mind that chose the adjectives that described the crime that you claim I committed... your hands that handed the finished article to your editor for printing."
"I... I...," but my words failed me. My knees started to tremble as I saw Backarella's arm extending out of the window. In his hand he was clutching the gold handle of his .44 Magnum that had taken countless lives at the squeeze of its trigger. My trembling became uncontrollable and sweat started to profusely drip down my forehead.
"Did I sound like I was finished? I should warn you, I’m not too fond of interruptions, especially when I am speaking. Now, did you really think I was gonna let you slip by with that article you wrote two weeks ago?”
“Please, Mr. Backarella,” I pleaded. “That article I wrote, I didn’t say you were the one responsible for the death of that cop! I only said you are one of the suspects! I didn’t accuse you of anything! Please, Mr. Backarella!”
“Shut your mouth fool,” Backarella snapped. “Whatever you meant to imply means shit. The bottom line is that you associated my name with the murder of a sergeant and had it published in the god damn newspaper! I will not stand for that kind of slander!”
With those last words, Backarella raised the Magnum to my forehead and after a brief pause, just long enough for him to smirk, he pulled the trigger. My body fell to the floor and a pool of blood started quickly gathering underneath my head. The last thing I heard was a hearty and booming laugh of amusement, muffled by the aftershock of the Magnum’s roar, and the car slowly driving away.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I opened my eyes several hours later, but found that I couldn’t see right away. It took quiet a while for my eyes to adjust to the bright light that was engulfing the area where I was. As my eyes started to focus, I started recognizing things around me. There was a chair and walls. I was inside somewhere. A room with white walls. And then my concentration was broken by a voice that startled me. “Oh, look who’s awake! Thank God, we thought you weren’t going to wake up at all, Mr. Conners. An angel must be watching over you!” said a nurse.
I gaped at the woman like an infant gapes at his mother. I could not believe what my eyes where seeing. “No, the angel is watching over you,” I wanted to scream but my voice would not permit it. All I could do was stare at the nurse, trying to figure out if I was hallucinating or if I just went plain ol’ crazy. Kind of floating above the nurse or maybe even just standing behind her, I wasn’t really sure which, was this being. It had the shape of a person but whether man or woman, I couldn’t really tell. This creature, whatever it was, had no face. It was just a blank body, with no distinctive features of any kind other than its human-like shape. The light that illuminated this room so brightly came from this bizarre and strange creature, whose presence radiated a deep and comforting warmth.
The nurse continued talking to me, blabbering about something or other, but I was entranced by this being behind her. This creature was speaking to me.
“You have been spared to carry out a great deed,” it spoke to me. Its voice was so strange. It’s almost as if it had two voices, both a man’s and a woman’s. “You have been given the gift of sight. You shall see truth as it is in itself.”
“… And last week we had a patient that wasn’t nearly as lucky as you, died from what appeared to be a flesh wound from a stabbing…” went on the nurse, not realizing what was happening right behind her.
“Go find the evil one. Find him and avenge. Avenge yourself and avenge the fallen one.”
A few seconds passed but the whatever it was didn’t say anything else. I was shocked. I have neither seen nor imagined anything like this.
“Avenge who?” I asked, bewildered that I was trying to communicate with this entity. “What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you?”
“Mr. Conners, and you alright?” asked the nurse, with a hint of a nervous tremor in her voice. “Would you like me to call a doctor, Mr. Conners?”
“I’m talking to that!” I finally managed to tell the nurse, pointing at the thing behind her. She turned around but did not see what I was seeing.
“Are you sure you’re ok, Mr. Conners?” the nurse asked again.
Then, the creature spoke again. This time, its voice was loud and deep, booming throughout the whole room. “It must be done! You must accept your fate and you must find he who tried to kill you. When you lay eyes upon him, you shall see his evil. When you lay your eyes upon the eyes of his evil, you shall see the past and the future. Now go! Take this and go fulfill your destiny!” It raised its arms in the air and a dagger appeared right above its head. The creature guided the floating dagger down towards me and placed it gently on my chest. The nurse by now had her back turned to me, checking the machines that were monitoring my increasingly fast paced heartbeat. She did not see this. I took the dagger in my hand and studied its long, thin handle. It was made out of a sleek and shining metal, incrusted with sapphires and emeralds. The blade was curved and sharp, ready to penetrate almost anything that it encountered. Although it looked as if it should weigh a ton, this dagger was light as a feather. I slipped it underneath the sheets so that the nurse wouldn’t see it. All of a sudden, I felt very drowsy. “I gave you something to relax you and help you sleep, Mr. Conners” said the nurse. “Hopefully you’ll be making a little more sense when you wake up again. Good night!” She left my room and I drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
The next time I awoke was early morning. The clock on my bedside table flashed . I got out of the bed and stretched my legs a little bit. I noticed a bathroom straight ahead of me, so I slowly made my way towards it. I went straight to the sink and turned on the cold water. I ran my hands underneath it and splashed it in my face. I looked up into the mirror and what had happened to me the previous night game flooding back into my memory. The hole in my goddamn forehead, bandaged at the time, was an instant reminder of Backarella and his Magnum. Suddenly, I understood what the angel, or whatever it was, had told me. It told me to find the one who tried to kill me and avenge myself. I have to find Backarella and end his life just like he tried to end mine. I stormed out of the bathroom, found my blood stained clothes hanging in a small closet and vacated my room. I went to the bed and found the dagger folded up in the crevice of the sheets, just where I left it right before I fell asleep. I slowly pushed the door to my room open, checking for any guards that might be watching. The coast was clear, so I headed for the first staircase I saw and began to descend the fourteen flights. I saw nurses and doctors and patients pass me by on the staircase. I watched them with the same bewilderment that I gaped at the nurse with. They all had their own angels behind them. Except one.
I saw a man that had a deformed beast limping behind him, rather than a warm kind-of-human creature like everyone else. Then I remembered what the nurse’s angel told me… “When you lay eyes upon him, you shall see his evil. When you lay your eyes upon the eyes of his evil, you shall see the past and the future.” I can see this man’s evil. That’s what it must be. The glowing warm beings watch over the good while the demons stalk the evil. I approached the demon that was sulking after this strange man and stared into its eyes. The things that I saw! The beast’s eyes where playing a movie, a montage of all the horrible and evil acts that this man has committed. I saw the horrible things that he had planned to do in the future. He was on his way to steal morphine from the drug supply room and give it to young boys who were pressured into selling drugs for lazy, despicable vagrants such as the man to whom this demon belonged to.
I broke the eye contact with the beast and continued on my way, contemplating what I have just seen. It seems as if these beings are manifestations of a person’s true nature. Those who are truly evil are followed by beasts and shadows. Those who are truly good are accompanied by divine creatures and warm light. I was confused and perplexed. I knew exactly what was going on now but I couldn’t even believe myself. It all seemed so surreal, almost like a dream. No, I don’t feel pain in dreams. This can’t be a dream because I feel an agonizing, throbbing pain in my forehead where the bullet had penetrated my skull. I soon forgot the pain, however, when I stepped outside of the hospital and saw how these manifestation had materialized themselves.
I looked up into the dark sky. It must have been past already, but the city was still shrouded in shadow and darkness. The sky was a deep, dark purple with giant black whirlpools replacing clouds. Some horrible serpent-like creatures swam through the sky, slithering between the whirlpools like they were pools of water and the beasts were some sort of evil water snakes. It was really a horrifying sight, one that almost knocked me off my feet. I gazed down towards the street level and I saw nothing but chaos and havoc. Demons and other fiendish monstrosities were everywhere, filling the streets as if the city was some sort of demented zoo. I lowered my head down and began to proceed towards the tallest skyscraper in this god forsaken city, the one whose penthouse office was occupied by none other than Mr. Anthony Backarella himself. The closer I got to the building, the tighter my grip got around the handle of the dagger that was hiding in my pocket. I was ready. Almost.
I stopped at a thrift store that I spotted on the corner of the block that I was walking down. The owner was just opening the shop up and I decided to stop by and pick out a more suitable attire, one that wasn’t covered in my dried up blood or smelt like I was rolling around in garbage all night long. I found a trench coat, a hat and a sheer black mask. I threw all the money I had in my blood soaked pockets at the woman behind the counter, but before I turned around to walk out of her store, I noticed an interesting object laying on top of a pile of random little knick knacks on the counter. It was a small evil eye pin. “It watches over you and protects you from evil. It is said to repel curses that people place upon your head”, the woman explained to me. “It’s a little late for that”, I replied chuckling at my own joke. As I was extending out my hand to place the pin back from where I took it, the woman offered for me to keep it. “We live in dark times”, she explained. “Everyone needs a little protection from evil”. I though to myself how a little piece of metal would protect me from the horrible evils that I saw this morning, but I thanked her anyway and walked out of the store while dressing myself. The last thing to be put on was the mask. It was perfect. All black, so one would only be able to see the shape and contour of my face. It was sheer so I was able to see through it perfectly well. But no one could my face. I crumpled up my old clothes and chucked them into a garbage can that was on the street. As I was turning towards my destination, I heard a clanking that made me look down on the floor. It was the small evil eye pin, it must have fallen out of the pocket of my pants when I was throwing them away. I picked it up, thinking about how much this pin and I had in common. We can both see evil in a way that no one else could. I decided to attach the pin to my mask, right over my third eye of a bullet hole. Now I was ready. Or so I thought.
As I walked down the street towards Backarella, I caught sight of my reflection in a store window. I did not recognize myself. I had no idea who this shadow was that was standing where I was supposed to be. There is nothing of me in me anymore. At least not in my appearance. That was when anxiety suddenly took hold of me, and my heart began racing out of fear. I was realizing what I was about to do. I was about to walk into the office of the biggest crime boss in New York City
As I was walking home, telling myself off for letting my imagination get the better of me, I heard screams coming from an alleyway. I slowly crept up to where the alley began and peered from behind the wall. A nurse, the one from the hospital, the one who was taking care of me, was being wrestled to the floor by some crazy guy. He had a smile on his face and looked like he enjoyed the fight that this poor woman was putting up. Nasty little imps were dancing around the struggling pair, cackling and clapping their long, scrawny hands together. She was screaming for help and her otherworldly guardian seemed to be in as much pain as this poor woman. I didn’t feel warmth and happiness coming from this creature that I first encountered back at the hospital, but rather it was almost as if I felt its pain too. I had to do something, but what could I do? I just decided that I’m no hero, so it would be stupid of me to go blindly running into this alleyway, hoping for some miracle to aid me. Coldness was creeping up into my heart, filling me with sadness and despair. No, I had to go find help. I had to do something to help this woman. I felt her pain deep down inside myself. I ran down the block, trying to find someone who would come to the rescue, but no one was around. I was completely alone, searching the desolate streets for a savior. I couldn’t leave this poor nurse on her own though, it wouldn’t be right. I started to run back towards the alley, not knowing what I was going to do. Moments before I ran up to the alley, my planning of how I was going to help the nurse was interrupted with the realization that I didn’t hear any screaming. My heart dropped, knowing that the silence was a sign of something really bad. All of a sudden, the coldness that my heart was feeling before evaporated and left me with a feeling of nothingness. I peered around the corner of the wall from where I was watching the attack a few minutes ago. There was no struggling, no fighting, no movement whatsoever. I proceeded down the dark alley, hoping to god that someone came to save the nurse while I was looking help. Those hopes went up in flames when I almost tripped over her dead body, laying mangled against the wall. Her clothes were torn and her face was cut open. Blood was pouring out of the multiple stab wounds that were scattered throughout her body. Her skirt was pushed up and her underwear was ripped off. This sight made me sick to my stomach. This was my fault. I should have done something sooner. The light surrounding her that was shining so brightly earlier this morning in the hospital room was fading into a dull mist before extinguishing all together. Her creature guardian was no longer there.
Not knowing what to do, I sat next to the nurse’s body for almost an hour. I was thinking about the harshness of life and how the innocent are usually the ones who suffer the most. The war between good and evil is completely unfair. Goodness can overpower evil, but evil can destroy goodness. Maliciousness will always conquer precisely because it is malicious and will go to any extent in order to pursue its evil goals. In this sense, goodness is powerless over evil. Unless someone was to defend it. Someone who is not himself all good, but fights to preserve all goodness. Someone who is willing to use the malicious tactics of evil in order to fight for the good. Someone who will risk their own goodness for the sake of goodness. I will be that someone. I cannot let an innocent life, like the one of this nurse, to be taken in such a heinous way. My fear resulted in her death. Never again. I must get back on my path. I cannot go home. I have no home to go to. Backarella took that life away from me. But something returned a different life to me, on the condition that I take my revenge. This is my mission. This is the purpose of my second life. I cannot deviate from this path. I must finish what I set out to do.
I rose from the floor and took one last look at the nurse’s body. I wanted to remember this disturbing image forever, so that it can serve as a reminder of what happens when cowardice takes over. I left the alleyway and started to walk down the street that I was following before I change my course. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the building. I looked through the glass walls and saw security sitting behind the desk that was stationed in the middle of the lobby. I stood there for eight minutes trying to figure out how to get past the security guards before I was assisted by some hoodlums shooting off guns by the other entrance into the building. The two security guards that were on duty equipped themselves with their weapons and proceeded to chase the hoodlums away, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip by unnoticed. I entered the elevator and pushed the topmost button. The elevator delivered me right to Backarella’s office door. I could hear classical music blasting from behind the giant oak doors. Perfect. I was undetectable. I turned the door know as slowly as I could and gently pushed the door open.
Backarella was standing behind his desk, at the far end of his office, with his back to me. He was looking down at the city. What a lovely view it must be for him, one who is not cursed to see the true ugliness and evils that reside in those streets. He was puffing on a cigar, just staring off into the distance. The entire room was crawling with demons of all shapes and sizes, rearing their ugly heads in my direction. They were slithering all around him, whispering in his ear and nudging him with their long pointy fingers.
And then I saw it. After that moment, I understood what I had to do. I understood what I was avenging. That nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach started to freeze over with a frost that spread through the rest of my body like an infectious disease. I saw the demon, the one that was whispering in Backarella’s ear the night that cop was killed.
I slowly crawled towards the beast, careful not to be noticed or heard by Backarella, and grabbed the monster by its protruding horns. Staring deep into its eyes, I saw what really happened that night when the sergeant’s life came to an end. He had it. He had the evidence that he needed to put Backarella away forever. He was pure of heart and he wanted to make a change. He dedicated his life to wipe Backarella out and break down the foundation of all the crime rings in this city. Then, Backarella found out. How he tortured that poor soul. Even if the cop survived, he would be a vegetable for the rest of his life. He was beaten, electrified, beaten some more, cut, beaten again, raped. He died after four hours of this, from loss of blood. That bastard Backarella was disappointed that he died so soon. He was disappointed that he didn’t get the final satisfaction of pulling out his Magnum, adding to the collection of lives that it has taken.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked away from the beast’s eyes, feeling hatred and anger and vengeance. I looked at Backarella’s back and felt my blood begin to boil. I released the demon’s horns from my grip and turned to face the man whom I was about to kill. I was sent here to avenge, to finish the job that the cop has started. I started to advance towards him, and that’s when he heard me. He whipped around, reaching for the Magnum, but my hand was already wrapped around the back of his neck and the blade of the dagger was pressed against his throat.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” bellowed Backarella. “Do you know who I am?!” “Of course I know who you are,” I replied. “It where my fingers, after all, that typed your name in the same sentence as the name of a respectable and deceased police officer... it was my mind that chose the adjectives that described the crime that I claimed that you committed... my hands that handed the finished article to my editor for printing. The same hands that will bring justice to this city. The same hands that will bring about your death and the end of your sadistic reign."
With those last words that I whispered into his ear, I glided the crooked blade of the dagger across his throat in a single smooth, sweeping motion and I felt his warm blood trickling down my fingers. Backarella started choking on his own blood and trying to grab me, but failed when his strength started to whither away. With every drop of his blood that was spilt, a demon shrieked in agony as it began to decay in front of my eyes. I let go of Backarella and watched his limp body drop to the floor. I watched him die. I watched him die and felt satisfaction. He was no longer untouchable. He was dead.
With those last words that I whispered into his ear, I glided the crooked blade of the dagger across his throat in a single smooth, sweeping motion and I felt his warm blood trickling down my fingers. Backarella started choking on his own blood and trying to grab me, but failed when his strength started to whither away. With every drop of his blood that was spilt, a demon shrieked in agony as it began to decay in front of my eyes. I let go of Backarella and watched his limp body drop to the floor. I watched him die. I watched him die and felt satisfaction. He was no longer untouchable. He was dead.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I made my way out of his office and found an emergency staircase a few feet away from the elevator. I kicked the door open and began to ascend the stairs to the rooftop. When I reached the outside, I took off my hat and pulled the black mask off of my face. The cool breeze felt good on my sweaty face. I sat on the edge of the rooftop, looking over the city that was still shrouded in darkness. I looked at my watch. It was . The sun should have been shining right now. I will never see the sunshine in this city ever again. I looked up in the sky and I still saw the serpent beasts swimming through the dank purple sky. I looked back down onto the streets and saw the demons that were crawling around. This city is corrupt. There is too much evil in this world to rid of. It is an impossible mission that will never be accomplished.
So here I sit, on the rooftop, overlooking the evil that was slithering around below me, knowing that there is nothing I could do. I can never rid the world of evil. It will never happen. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t try. This is the questions that now I must ask myself. Knowing this, that evil will never die, do I embrace my gift and use it to destroy as much wickedness as my lifetime will allow? Or should I ignore this curse and continue to live my life while having to witness these manifestations until the day I die? I thought and thought and thought, fingering the mask in my hand as I pondered.
My concentration was broken when I saw a dim light from the corner of my eye. I whipped my head around, preparing myself for one of Backarella’s goons to attack me in revenge for killing his boss, but no one was there. Rather, this light was coming from something small that was running alongside the borders of the rooftop. It was a rat with a warm glow surrounding it. I got down on my knees to greet this unexpected visitor. He slowly approached me and sniffed my extended hand, still glowing with the same light that I saw in the hospital. Go figure, a rat with a pure soul. It’s amazing how something so small can have more goodness in its little body than an entire city filled with people. Purity is so rare. It must be protected so that it doesn’t perish in this evil world. No matter how unavoidable evil is, goodness must still conquer. Goodness must illuminate the darkness caused by evil. This world needs a protector, one who can guide the light of benevolence.
Then I stood. I walked to the edge of the rooftop and once more looked down at the darkness encompassing the city that I called my home. I knew what I had to do. I pulled the mask over my face and placed my hat back on top of my head. My name was Nicholas Conners. That was in the past. Nicholas Conners is no longer here. I am someone new. I am forever different. I am the guardian of the light. I am The Seer.
Blog# 4.1
In preparation for my final project, which is my own personal monomyth, I had a lot of research to do. I watched several movies that were based on comic books, such as Batman, Spawn, Superman and the Watchmen, in order to get some inspiration. While I was watching these movies, I took notes on how the hero acquired their powers, what new power or strength do they now have, how they felt about their new ability and what trials they had to overcome, etc. I also analyzed several comic books and graphic novels in the same way as I did with the movies, which I read while taking the train to and from school as well as during my daily hour long breaks. Graphic novels such as House of M, Spawn vs. Batman, and Watchmen inspired me to one day transform my story into a graphic novel of my own. I was inspired by the little details in these novels that can be looked so deeply into, like the fact that Rorschack wore a mask, hat, overcoat, and gloves to completely hide his identity as best he could, yet in turn simultaneously created an identity of his own. I found Watchmen to be my biggest inspiration overall, mostly because of Rorschack. However, it wasn’t so much of how the characters looked that inspired me, but rather how every character was a superhero but also still a human. The characters retained so much of their humanity, such as having strong emotions, disturbing memories and passionate desires. They had their own personal lives, which were filled with drama and hardships, along with a number of personal flaws.
When I began thinking of my character, I didn’t see an image of a speeding bullet with a cape and red spandex. Instead, I saw a simple man who could see things for what they truly are and isn’t one to step away from what he truly believes in, who could feel real emotions and live a “regular” life.
After gathering some ideas together I received an indirect idea from a good friend of mine, who told me to check out a couple of the “Philosophy Of …” books. I did, I went to Barnes and Nobles and skimmed through a couple books. These “Philosophy Of” books were based on things such as movies, TV shows, stories, supernatural ideas, etc. They analyzed various topics and significant parts of the stories through philosophical theories and ideas that were found within plots, characters, themes, etc. I then took the idea of philosophy and ran with it, having taken two philosophy courses in my time as a student of LaGuardia Community College
After gathering all of my notes together and reflecting on the ideas one by one, I realized the situation that I got myself into. This is when I began to brainstorm. I tried free writing and quickly realized how good I am at it. Close to an hour later, I found myself with eleven pages of descriptions about different types of powers and I didn’t like a single one. So I went back to my notes and brainstormed some more. I finally decided on the power to see people for what they really are, since I was attempting to put a philosophical spin on a superhero story. At this point, I realized how far behind schedule I was and decided to rush things a little just to get a story set in motion and to fine-tune it as time allowed. I followed the monomyth step by step, word for word, but it wasn’t coming our right. There was too much in such a small amount of writing. So I cut pieces out and put more effort into the scenes and factors that I felt were the backbone of the story. I continued thinking of ideas and writing them down in notes, even if I was attending other classes such as Macroeconomics and Urban Anthropology. I continued to write until either the thought was complete and recorded or if I lost the thought due to a distraction as small as looking down to make sure I didn’t trip on a step.
After I completed my first draft, I handed it out to five of my good friends, who also fancied comic books and are true critics of my writing skills. As they were taking notes on it and discussing certain parts of it amongst themselves, I decided to create the final scene of my story. I sketched the scene out in layers according to the appropriate colors and proceeded to cut my sketches, creating stencils that can be precisely duplicated just incase I wanted to make some changes to the scene. I went to the store and bought several different colors of Krylon flat spray paint. I then sprayed the scene onto the canvas, layer by layer, and was pleased at first but I later felt that it was missing something. I cut out a couple more stencils of demon silhouettes and added them to the canvas too. I still felt like making some new additions to the canvas, and I just might in the future, but there wasn’t enough time to do that when I wanted to.
My friends then handed me back the story that I gave them to read, but it wasn’t the same. They were now covered in multi-colored highlights, X’s, and comments. After reading the comments and deeply considering the fact that they knew what they’re talking about, I tried my hardest to change the parts that they thought were awful and yet maintain the theme that I had created. I didn’t take any plot suggestions from my friends because I found their ideas were conflicting and were dead ends to the story. After re-writing the story, I can’t stop adding in all these little details. I am constantly updating and re-writing paragraphs in the story, making it better and better each time. Perhaps one day, I will finally finish this project and maybe I’ll end up with a lot more that I originally intended.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Final Project - The Seer
The Seer
I do not know why I received this miraculous gift. That is, if you can call it a gift. Some would consider it a terrible curse. Either way, I do not know why I was chosen nor do I know who chose me. All I know is that I was never to be normal again. Not since that night.
My name is Nicholas Conners. I live in New York City
That night happened in the summer of '63. It was a dark night; the only light that illuminated the desolate streets that lay ahead of me came from the few lamp posts that haven't yet been broken by stray bullets or bored kids. That night was foggy. The thick mist that hovered over the city made it hard for me to see far ahead, and the lack of lights didn't help. As I shuffled my feet against the uneven concrete, thinking about god knows what, I noticed a black car creeping out of the heavy fog towards me. I had no reason to suspect that it was coming for me, but my stomach clenched up nethertheless. The clenching slowly and steadily turned into a sharp pain when the car pulled over next to me and I saw who lowered the backseat window.
It was Anthony Backarella, the sole man who controlled both organized and disorganized crime in Hell's Kitchen. He was the king of criminals, the mastermind behind destruction, and the hand that controlled the puppets who did his dirty work. He was powerful and untouchable. He was hungry for my blood.
"Well if it isn't the brave Nicholas Conners. Mr. Brass Balls himself. Do you know who I am?" he asked, in his deep and raspy voice.
"Yes," I whispered, mortified by what was happening.
"Of course you know who I am. You must know who I am. It were your fingers, after all, that typed my name in the same sentence as the name of a respectable and deceased police officer... it was your mind that chose the adjectives that described the crime that you claim I committed... your hands that handed the finished article to your editor for printing."
"I... I...," but my words failed me. My knees started to tremble as I saw Backarella's arm extending out of the window. In his hand he was clutching the gold handle of his .44 Magnum that had taken countless lives at the squeeze of its trigger. My trembling became uncontrollable and sweat started to profusely drip down my forehead.
"Did I sound like I was finished? I should warn you, I’m not too fond of interruptions, especially when I am speaking. Now, did you really think I was gonna let you slip by with that article you wrote two weeks ago?”
"Yes," I whispered, mortified by what was happening.
"Of course you know who I am. You must know who I am. It were your fingers, after all, that typed my name in the same sentence as the name of a respectable and deceased police officer... it was your mind that chose the adjectives that described the crime that you claim I committed... your hands that handed the finished article to your editor for printing."
"I... I...," but my words failed me. My knees started to tremble as I saw Backarella's arm extending out of the window. In his hand he was clutching the gold handle of his .44 Magnum that had taken countless lives at the squeeze of its trigger. My trembling became uncontrollable and sweat started to profusely drip down my forehead.
"Did I sound like I was finished? I should warn you, I’m not too fond of interruptions, especially when I am speaking. Now, did you really think I was gonna let you slip by with that article you wrote two weeks ago?”
“Please, Mr. Backarella,” I pleaded. “That article I wrote, I didn’t say you were the one responsible for the death of that cop! I only said you are one of the suspects! I didn’t accuse you of anything! Please, Mr. Backarella!”
“Shut your mouth fool,” Backarella snapped. “Whatever you meant to imply means shit. The bottom line is that you associated my name with the murder of a sergeant and had it published in the god damn newspaper! I will not stand for that kind of slander!”
With those last words, Backarella raised the Magnum to my forehead and after a brief pause, just long enough for him to smirk, he pulled the trigger. My body fell to the floor and a pool of blood started quickly gathering underneath my head. The last thing I heard was a hearty and booming laugh of amusement, muffled by the aftershock of the Magnum’s roar, and the car slowly driving away.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I opened my eyes several hours later, but found that I couldn’t see right away. It took quiet a while for my eyes to adjust to the bright light that was engulfing the area where I was. As my eyes started to focus, I started recognizing things around me. There was a chair and walls. I was inside somewhere. A room with white walls. And then my concentration was broken by a voice that startled me. “Oh, look who’s awake! Thank God, we thought you weren’t going to wake up at all, Mr. Conners. An angel must be watching over you!” said a nurse.
I gaped at the woman like an infant gapes at his mother. I could not believe what my eyes where seeing. “No, the angel is watching over you,” I wanted to scream but my voice would not permit it. All I could do was stare at the nurse, trying to figure out if I was hallucinating or if I just went plain ol’ crazy. Hovering over the nurse was a beautiful woman with pale skin and golden hair, wrapped in a white cloth and adorned with a pair of giant feathered wings! The light that illuminated this room so brightly came from this majestic creature and warmth radiated from her presence.
The nurse continued talking to me, blabbering about something or other, but I was entranced by this being levitating above her. This angel was speaking to me.
“You have been spared to carry out a great deed,” her angelic voice sang to me. “You have been given the gift of sight. You shall see the truth for what it is.”
“… And last week we had a patient that wasn’t nearly as lucky as you, died from what appeared to be a flesh wound from a stabbing…” went on the nurse, not realizing what was happening right behind her.
“Go find the one who made you come here. Find him and avenge. Avenge yourself and avenge the fallen one.”
Her eyes then slowly floated back onto the nurse and there she lingered, just watching. I was shocked. I have neither seen nor imagined anything like this.
“Avenge who?” I asked, bewildered that I was trying to communicate with this entity. “What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you?”
“Mr. Conners, and you alright?” asked the nurse, with a hint of a nervous tremor in her voice. “Would you like me to call a doctor, Mr. Conners?”
“I’m talking to that!” I finally managed to tell the nurse, pointing at the angel behind her. She turned around but did not see what I was seeing.
“Are you sure you’re ok, Mr. Conners?” the nurse asked again.
Then, the angel looked at me once more. This time, her voice was loud and deep, booming throughout the whole room. Her eyes were fierce and were glaring right into mine. “It must be done! You must accept your fate and you must find he who did this. When you lay eyes upon him, you shall see his evil. When you lay your eyes upon the eyes of his evil, you shall see the past and the future. Now go! Take this and go fulfill your destiny!” She raised her arms in the air and a dagger appeared right above her. She guided the floating dagger down towards me and placed it gently on my chest. The nurse by now had her back turned to me, checking the machines that were monitoring my increasingly fast paced heartbeat. She did not see this. I took the dagger in my hand and studied its long, thin handle. It was made out of gold, I could tell, and was incrusted with sapphires and emeralds. The blade was curved and sleek, ready to penetrate almost anything that it encountered. Although it looked as if it should weigh a ton, this dagger was light as a feather. I slipped it underneath the sheets so that the nurse wouldn’t see it. All of a sudden, I felt very drowsy. “I gave you something to relax you and help you sleep, Mr. Conners” said the nurse. “Hopefully you’ll be making a little more sense when you wake up again. Good night!” She left my room and I drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
The next time I awoke was early morning. The clock on my bedside table flashed . I got out of the bed and stretched my legs a little bit. I noticed a bathroom straight ahead of me, so I slowly made my way towards it. I went straight to the sink and turned on the cold water. I ran my hands underneath it and splashed it in my face. I looked up into the mirror and what had happened to me the previous night game flooding back into my memory. The hole in my goddamn forehead, bandaged at the time, was an instant reminder of Backarella and his Magnum. Suddenly, I understood what the angel has told me. She told me to find the one who put me here, the one who did this to me. I have to find him. I have to find Backarella and end his life just like he tried to end mine. I stormed out of the bathroom, found my blood stained clothes hanging in a small closet and vacated my room. I went to the bed and found the dagger folded up in the crevice of the sheets, just where I left it right before I fell asleep. I slowly pushed the door to my room open, checking for any guards that might be watching. The coast was clear, so I headed for the first staircase I saw and began to descend the fourteen flights. I saw nurses and doctors and patients pass me by on the staircase. I watched them with the same bewilderment that I gaped at the nurse with. They all had their own angels behind them. Except one.
I saw a man that had a terrifying beast stalking him instead of a heavenly angel floating behind him. Then I remembered what the nurse’s angel told me… “When you lay eyes upon him, you shall see his evil. When you lay your eyes upon the eyes of his evil, you shall see the past and the future.” I can see this man’s evil. That’s what it must be. The angels watch over the good while the demons stalk the evil. I approached the demon that was sulking after this strange man and stared into its eyes. The things that I saw! The beast’s eyes where playing a movie, a montage of all the horrible and evil acts that this man has committed. I saw the horrible things that he had planned to do in the future. He was on his way to steal morphine from the drug supply room and give it to young boys who were pressured into selling drugs for lazy, despicable vagrants such as the man to whom this demon belonged to.
I broke the eye contact with the beast and continued on my way, contemplating what I have just seen. It seems as if these beings are manifestations of a person’s true nature. Those who are truly evil are followed by beasts and shadows. Those who are truly good are accompanied by divine creatures and warm light. I was confused and perplexed. I knew exactly what was going on now but I couldn’t even believe myself. It all seemed so surreal, almost like a dream. No, I don’t feel pain in dreams. This can’t be a dream because I feel an agonizing, throbbing pain in my forehead where the bullet had penetrated my skull. I soon forgot the pain, however, when I stepped outside of the hospital and saw how these manifestation had materialized themselves.
I looked up into the dark sky. It must have been past already, but the city was still shrouded in shadow and darkness. The sky was a deep, dark purple with giant whirlpools replacing clouds. Giant serpents swam through the sky, slithering between the whirlpools like the sky was a pool of water and they were some sort of water snakes. It was really a horrifying sight, one that almost knocked me off my feet. I gazed down towards the street level and I saw nothing but chaos and havoc. Demons were roaming everywhere, filling the streets as if the city was some sort of weird and demented zoo. I lowered my head down and began to proceed towards the tallest skyscraper in this god forsaken city, the one whose penthouse office was occupied by none other than Mr. Anthony Backarella himself. The closer I got to the building, the tighter my grip got around the handle of the dagger that was hiding in my pocket. I was ready. Almost.
I stopped at a thrift store that I spotted on the corner of the block that I was walking down. The owner was just opening the shop up and I decided to stop by and pick out a more suitable attire, one that wasn’t covered in my dried up blood or smelt like I was rolling around in garbage all night long. I found a trench coat, a hat and a sheer black mask. I threw all the money I had in my blood soaked pockets at the woman behind the counter, but before I turned around to walk out of her store, I noticed an interesting object laying on top of a pile of random little knick knacks on the counter. It was a small evil eye pin. “It watches over you and protects you from evil. It is said to repel curses that people place upon your head”, the woman explained to me. “It’s a little late for that”, I replied chuckling at my own joke. As I was extending out my hand to place the pin back from where I took it, the woman offered for me to keep it. “We live in dark times”, she explained. “Everyone needs a little protection from evil”. I though to myself how a little piece of metal would protect me from the horrible evils that I saw this morning, but I thanked her anyway and walked out of the store while dressing myself. The last thing to be put on was the mask. It was perfect. All black, so one would only be able to see the shape and contour of my face. It was sheer so I was able to see through it perfectly well. But no one could my face. I crumpled up my old clothes and chucked them into a garbage can that was on the street. As I was turning towards my destination, I heard a clanking that made me look down on the floor. It was the small evil eye pin, it must have fallen out of the pocket of my pants when I was throwing them away. I picked it up, thinking about how much this pin and I had in common. We can both see evil in a way that no one else could. I decided to attach the pin to my mask, right over my third eye of a bullet hole. Now I was ready. Or so I thought.
As I walked down the street towards Backarella, I caught sight of my reflection in a store window. I did not recognize myself. I had no idea who this shadow was that was standing where I was supposed to be. There is nothing of me in me anymore. At least not in my appearance. That was when anxiety suddenly took hold of me, and my heart began racing out of fear. I was realizing what I was about to do. I was about to walk into the office of the biggest crime boss in New York City
As I was walking home, telling myself off for letting my imagination get the better of me, I heard screams coming from an alleyway. I slowly crept up to where the alley began and peered from behind the wall. A nurse, the one from the hospital, the one who was taking care of me, was being wrestled to the floor by some crazy guy. He had a smile on his face and looked like he enjoyed the fight that this poor woman was putting up. She was screaming for help. I had to do something, but what could I do? I just decided that I’m no hero, so it would be stupid of me to go blindly running into this alleyway, hoping for some miracle to aid me. No, I had to go find help. I ran down the block, trying to find someone who would come to the rescue, but no one was around. I was completely alone, searching the desolate streets for a savior. I couldn’t leave this poor nurse on her own though, it wouldn’t be right. I started to run back towards the alley, not knowing what I was going to do. Moments before I ran up to the alley, my planning of how I was going to help the nurse was interrupted with the realization that I didn’t hear any screaming. My heart dropped, knowing that the silence was a sign of something really bad. I peered around the corner of the wall from where I was watching the attack a few minutes ago. There was no struggling, no fighting, no movement whatsoever. I proceeded down the dark alley, hoping to god that someone came to save the nurse while I was looking help. Those hopes went up in flames when I almost tripped over her dead body, laying mangled against the wall. Her clothes were torn and her face was cut open. Blood was pouring out of the multiple stab wounds that were scattered around her body. Her skirt was pushed up and her underwear were ripped off. This sight made me sick to my stomach. This was my fault. I should have done something sooner. The light surrounding her that was shining so brightly earlier this morning in the hospital room was fading into a dull mist before extinguishing all together.
Not knowing what to do, I sat next to the nurse’s body for almost an hour. I was thinking about the harshness of life and how the innocent are usually the ones who suffer the most. The war between good and evil is completely unfair. Goodness can overpower evil, but evil can destroy goodness. Maliciousness will always conquer precisely because it is malicious and will go to any extent in order to pursue its evil goals. In this sense, goodness is powerless over evil. Unless someone was to defend it. Someone who is not himself all good, but fights to preserve all goodness. Someone who is willing to use the malicious tactics of evil in order to fight for the good. Someone who will risk their own goodness for the sake of goodness. I will be that someone. I cannot let an innocent life, like the one of this nurse, to be taken in such a heinous way. My fear resulted in her death. Never again. I must get back on my path. I cannot go home. I have no home to go to. Backarella took that life away from me. But something returned a different life to me, on the condition that I take my revenge. This is my mission. This is the purpose of my second life. I cannot deviate from this path. I must finish what I set out to do.
I rose from the floor and took one last look at the nurse’s body. I wanted to remember this disturbing image forever, so that it can serve as a reminder of what happens when cowardice takes over. I left the alleyway and started to walk down the street that I was following before I change my course. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the building. I looked through the glass walls and saw security sitting behind the desk that was stationed in the middle of the lobby. I stood there for eight minutes trying to figure out how to get past the security guards before I was assisted by some hoodlums shooting off guns by the other entrance into the building. The two security guards that were on duty equipped themselves with their weapons and proceeded to chase the hoodlums away, giving me the perfect opportunity to slip by unnoticed. I entered the elevator and pushed the topmost button. The elevator delivered me right to Backarella’s office door. I could hear classical music blasting from behind the giant oak doors. Perfect. I was undetectable. I turned the door know as slowly as I could and gently pushed the door open.
Backarella was standing behind his desk, at the far end of his office, with his back to me. He was looking down at the city. What a lovely view it must be for him, one who is not cursed to see the true ugliness and evils that reside in those streets. He was puffing on a cigar, just staring off into the distance. The entire room was crawling with demons of all shapes and sizes, rearing their ugly heads in my direction. They were slithering all around him, whispering in his ear and nudging him with their long pointy fingers.
And then I saw it. After that moment, I understood what I had to do. I understood what I was avenging. That nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach started to freeze over with a frost that spread through the rest of my body like an infectious disease. I saw the demon, the one that was whispering in Backarella’s ear when that cop was killed.
I slowly crawled towards the demon, careful not to be noticed or heard by Backarella, and grabbed the beast by its protruding horns. Staring deep into its eyes, I saw what really happened that night when the sergeant’s life came to an end. He had it. He had the evidence that he needed to put Backarella away forever. He was pure of heart and he wanted to make a change. He dedicated his life to wipe Backarella out and break down the foundation of all the crime rings in this city. Then, Backarella found out. How he tortured that poor soul. Even if the cop survived, he would be a vegetable for the rest of his life. He was beaten, electrified, beaten some more, cut, beaten again, raped. He died after four hours of this, from loss of blood. That bastard Backarella was disappointed that he died so soon. He was disappointed that he didn’t get the final satisfaction of pulling out his Magnum, adding to the collection of lives that it has taken.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I looked away from the beast’s eyes, feeling hatred and anger and vengeance. I looked at Backarella’s back and felt my blood begin to boil. I unleashed the demon’s horns from my grip and turned to face the man whom I was about to kill. I was sent here to avenge, to finish the job that the cop has started. I started to advance towards him, and that’s when he heard me. He whipped around, reaching for the Magnum, but my hand was already wrapped around the back of his neck and the blade of the dagger was pressed against his throat.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” bellowed Backarella. “Do you know who I am?!” “Of course I know who you are,” I replied. “It were my fingers, after all, that typed your name in the same sentence as the name of a respectable and deceased police officer... it was my mind that chose the adjectives that described the crime that I claimed that you committed... my hands that handed the finished article to my editor for printing. The same hands that will bring justice to this city. The same hands that will bring about your death and the end of your sadistic reign."
With those last words that I whispered into his ear, I glided the crooked blade of the dagger across his throat in a single smooth, sweeping motion and I felt his warm blood trickling down my fingers. Backarella started choking on his own blood and trying to grab me, but failed when his strength started to whither away. With every drop of his blood that was spilt, a demon shrieked in agony as it began to decay in front of my eyes. I let go of Backarella and watched his limp body drop to the floor. I watched him die. I watched him die and felt satisfaction. He no longer was untouchable. He was dead.
With those last words that I whispered into his ear, I glided the crooked blade of the dagger across his throat in a single smooth, sweeping motion and I felt his warm blood trickling down my fingers. Backarella started choking on his own blood and trying to grab me, but failed when his strength started to whither away. With every drop of his blood that was spilt, a demon shrieked in agony as it began to decay in front of my eyes. I let go of Backarella and watched his limp body drop to the floor. I watched him die. I watched him die and felt satisfaction. He no longer was untouchable. He was dead.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I made my way out of his office and found an emergency staircase a few feet away from the elevator. I kicked the door open and began to ascend the stairs to the rooftop. When I reached the outside, I took off my hat and pulled the black mask off of my face. The cool breeze felt good on my sweaty face. I sat on the edge of the rooftop, looking over the city that was still shrouded in darkness. I looked at my watch. It was . The sun should have been shining right now. I will never see the sunshine in this city ever again. I looked up in the sky and I still saw the serpent beasts swimming through the dank purple sky. I looked back down onto the streets and saw the demons that were crawling around. This city is corrupt. There is too much evil in this world to rid of. It is an impossible mission that will never be accomplished.
So here I sit, on the rooftop, overlooking the evil that was slithering around below me. I can never rid the world of evil. It will never happen. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t try. This is the questions that now I must ask myself. Knowing this, that evil will never die, do I embrace my gift and use it to destroy as much wickedness as my lifetime will allow? Or should I ignore this curse and continue to live my life while having to witness these manifestations until the day I die? I thought and thought and thought, fingering the mask in my hand as I pondered.
My concentration was broken when I saw a dim light from the corner of my eye. I whipped my head around, preparing myself for one of Backarella’s goons to attack me in revenge for killing his boss, but no one was there. Rather, this light was coming from something small that was running alongside the borders of the rooftop. It was a rat with a warm glow surrounding it. I got down on my knees to greet this unexpected visitor. He slowly approached me and sniffed my extended hand, still glowing with the same light that I saw in the hospital. Go figure, a rat with a pure soul. It’s amazing how something so small can have more goodness in its little body than an entire city filled with people. Purity is so rare. It must be protected so that it doesn’t parish in this evil world. No matter how unavoidable evil is, goodness must still conquer. Goodness must illuminate the darkness caused by evil. This world needs a protector, one who can guide the light of benevolence.
Then I stood. I walked to the edge of the rooftop and looked down at the darkness encompassing the city that I called my home. I knew what I had to do. I pulled the mask over my face and placed my hat back on top of my head. My name was Nicholas Conners. That was in the past. Nicholas Conners is no longer here. I am someone new. I am forever different. I am the guardian of the light. I am The Seer.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Blog Entry # 3.5
Jonathan Challita
Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces thoroughly yet simply outlines and describes the seventeen stages of the monomyth also known as the hero’s quest. The seventeen steps are a way of breaking down the story of good versus evil in stories dealing with a hero in a supernatural environment. There are several elements of the Hero’s Quest that are found in the novel Coraline written by Neil Gaiman.
The call to adventure is the point in the story when the hero seems to be bored of the usual everyday situation and receives some type of information that would act as a gadfly sending the hero into the unknown. In the story of Coraline this call to adventure takes place when Coraline, a young and adventurous girl, feels less than content with her situation. She decides to explore her new surroundings, having just moved into a new place with her parents that was far from anywhere she knew, she heads downstairs to the cellar where two older women lived and had a cup of tea. Having a cup of tea with your new neighbors seemed harmless until Coraline passed her cup to the women, who wanted to examine her tea leaves in order to tell Coraline her fortune. As it turns out, Coraline’s tea leaves resembled great danger. After hearing this news, Coraline wasn’t scared or worried, instead she was excited with the thought of the adventure ahead of her. Miss Forcible and Miss Spink, the women living in the cellar, were scared for Coraline so they offered to help her in the only way they knew, which leads to the step of the supernatural aid.According to the Mono myth, after the hero has committed to the quest ahead of them weather they were conscious of the decision or not, the hero’s guides become recognized by offering help, guidance, and other things such as talismans or artifacts. It is at this point of the story when miss Forcible and Miss Spink give a type of talisman to Coraline to help her along her journey. Coraline thinks nothing of the talisman being a rock with a hole going through it. In fact it is around this point that she thinks to herself that all grown-ups are out of their mind. As the story goes on, Coraline notices a mysterious door in a room of her flat that no one is supposed to enter. This door turns out to be the entrance to another dimension which leads Coraline into the crossing of the first threshold.
The crossing of the first threshold is the point of the story when the person physically crosses into a new dangerous world leaving their world behind. The capabilities and rules of this place are completely unknown, mysterious and have unlimited amounts of potential danger lurking around every corner. One day Coraline decides to check out the door as her mother and father are out and about. Coraline unlocks the door that supposedly leads nowhere, being blocked by a brick wall, but when the door opens it is no longer blocked by bricks, now it seems to be a hallway. Coraline being the adventurer that she is, journeys through this hallway and exits through what seems to be the same door she walked into. Coraline found herself back in her flat except this flat seemed a little off to her. She had slipped into a new world that seemed to be made for her. This new world accounted for all the wrongs in her old one. Her father was there for her, Her mother cooked excellent meals for her, her toys came to life, and the stray cat, that she would see in passing in her old world, could now talk to her. The cat ends up being another source of supernatural aid.
The large black cat’s voice reminded Coraline of the voice in the back of her head except she says that it was a man’s voice not a girl’s voice. Often the voice in the back of your head is your thought process or conscience. The fact that it was a man’s voice instead of a girl’s, stood out to me, in stead of keeping the age similar and saying it was a boy’s voice, she said man’s. That symbolizes a wise man and the fact that it is her conscience in a way it could be seen as her thought process is maturing and she has had this knowledge all along but is now in this alternate world beginning to listen to it. The cat ends up being very helpful throughout the story and it guides her, being the only thing that seemed to remain to be the same between the two worlds. The cat along with what seemed to be the souls of some children, that went down Coraline’s path before her, helped her realize that she cannot continue to run from her other mother. This is when Coraline found herself in the belly of the whale.
The belly of the whale is used to represent the point of the story that the hero puts their foot down and realizes what they must do in order to truly escape the situation that they find themselves in. Coraline gets thrown into a mirror, which acts as a type of cell, for misbehavior according to the other mother. It is in this cell that Coraline realizes what she must do. She obtains some words of wisdom from the spirits of children that came before her and it is now that she realizes that she has to escape this world but in order to do so, she must comply with the other mothers rules and beat her at her own game. This is the point of the story that leads into the road of trials.
The road of trials is a series of trials and tribulations. These tests or tasks are usually given in sets of threes. After being released from the mirror cell that her other mother placed her in, Coraline decided to play the other mother at her own game. Coraline offered to give herself to the other mother if she could not find the souls that the other mother had trapped within the other world for the chance to free the three children’s souls, herself and her parents. The other mother accepted the deal and promised on her right hand that she would free everyone if Coraline could find their souls.Conveniently there happened to be three children which makes for three souls that needed to be found. Coraline was able to keep the other mother out of her way because she happened to have the talisman from earlier in the story. She was also able to see the souls of the children while looking through the hole in the rock. Each of the children’s souls were in a different place within the other mother’s world and each soul took a great amount of courage and wits to be able to obtain them. After collecting the children’s souls Coraline must collect her parents as well. Her other parents can be seen as the ultimate boon.
The ultimate boon is what the hero has been seeking on the quest. Along her journey Coraline grew stronger and more courageous and wittier.She recalls that there was an odd looking snow globe in her other flat which had two people in it. She thought nothing of it before but it was clear to her now that those were her parents. with he other mother guarding the snow globe she realized that she would have to trick her in order to obtain her parents and get back to her real world.
Sources:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monomyth
Blog Entry# 3.4
For my final project I will be creating a fictional super hero story and applying the monomythic structure to it. I have already begun writing the plot of the story and researching the monomyth steps in depth.
The steps that i plan on taking in order to have this project completed are:
Problems that i anticipate slowing me down are the responces that i will be asking friends for and figuring out which ideas are good enough for my story and how to encorporate them into the monomyth. I may also run into the problem of writer's block which would set me back several days, that is why i plan to be finished with the project by the 6th; three days before the project is actually due.
The steps that i plan on taking in order to have this project completed are:
- Researching the monomyth to the fullest and reading several graphic novels and comic books that deal with the hero's journey.
- Finishing the out line of the story.
- Adding the monomythic structure to the story.
- Re-writing scenes and possibly the entire outline several times.
- Sending the story to several friends and asking them for recomendations and overall reviews.
- Incorporating ideas that i think will help the story as long as they don't interfere with the monomythic structure.
- Pulling everything that I have learned together and creatiing the final draft of the story.
- If there is time i also plan on coming up with some type of artwork for the cover of the story.
Problems that i anticipate slowing me down are the responces that i will be asking friends for and figuring out which ideas are good enough for my story and how to encorporate them into the monomyth. I may also run into the problem of writer's block which would set me back several days, that is why i plan to be finished with the project by the 6th; three days before the project is actually due.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Blog Entry 3.3
My final project ideas include incorporating the monomythic structure into an original story of a superhero. I was also thinking about doing some type of artistic display of demons and creatures than evaluating them through the basis of archetypes, symbols, and contrast between them. I am leaning toward the writing of my own personal monomyth using the structure we have learned in class. I feel that it would be more appropriate for the final project because it is more writing oriented than it is creating an image.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Blog Entry 3.2 Shakespeare: "Macbeth" (Judi Dench) - sleepwalking scene
This video appealed to me not only because of how well a job the actors did to bring the scene to life but also because it showed all the different dimensions within the scene and within Lady Macbeth. The scene begins with a holy woman and a man of the lord waiting and conversing about Lady Macbeth. The holy woman denies the man of her knowledge of what Lady Macbeth has been saying during her sleepwalking episodes, right as Lady Macbeth enters. She enters the darkness of the room holding a lit candle, takes a seat and begins to attempt to wash the blood off of her hands. There is no actual blood on her at this moment but it shows the state of her collective unconscious, not allowing her to forget what has been done or move on. Lady Macbeth is clearly in an abnormal condition throughout the scene, you can really begin to see how her feelings and thoughts seem to turn against her, forcing her into a state of self-destructive misery.
Afterwards, Lady Macbeth confesses of the horrors that she and her husband had been committing themselves to, she then exits the room leaving the holy man and women practically terrified of what they had just witnessed.
There were two main sets of contradicting symbols found in this scene; light vs. dark and water vs. blood. In reality there is not much to be gathered from these words; Light being a type of illumination and dark being a lack of light, but if you were to look deeper into these symbolic words and what they could represent one would find that light and dark has been connected to good and evil and a less famous connection, but more appropriate, consciousness and unconsciousness or awareness and ignorance. Throughout the play, Lady Macbeth always wanted to stay within the darkness and now during these times of vulnerability she has a candle by her at all times showing that she is no longer oblivious; instead she has become enlightened and realized the seriousness of the crimes that she had helped commit.
As for water vs. blood, water being pure liquid hydrogen and oxygen, and blood being a red body fluid, there is much more to be understood by these symbolic words. Water represents purity and blood represents impurity, guilt and murder. So the action of Lady Macbeth attempting to wash her hands free of blood with the water is an attempt of hers the purify her guilt and wash it from her mind, so she can continue living with herself in better form than she hardly is now.
The character portrayed in this scene would most likely fit a combination of both the collective unconscious and the vulnerable archetypes. Lady Macbeth is sleepwalking and crying of her cursed bloody hands, the fact that she is asleep at the time is a direct connection with the collective unconsciousness that got built up over time collecting getting stronger and harder to contain. The only reason that I bring the vulnerable archetype into the description of Lady Macbeth in this scene is because she was extraordinarily strong throughout the play, until now, she is showing exactly how vulnerable and weak she truly is on the inside.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Blog Entry 3.1
This is a picture taken from a modernized version of the Shakespearean play "Macbeth". I believe this was the part of the play when Lady Macbeth's guilt began to catch up with her. After her and Macbeth had murdered several people in order to cover up her initial assassination of the early king, she began to show signs of insanity. She would constantly attempt to wash herself free of blood that was not actually there. She was obviously subconsciously filled with guilt and so, wile attempting to wash off the imaginary blood, I think she was just trying to clear herself of what she had done. Upon realizing that this would never happen she was believed to have committed suicide to finally let her spirit rest in peace or at least to put herself out of the misery that she had created for herself.
Lady Macbeth is either being haunted and some how taunted by a supernatural power or she is paranoid to the point of dillusional sleepwalking. The mind is a powerful thing, it can make things happen subconsciously and bring them to a reality. One thing that really sticks out in my mind about this picture is that Lady Macbeth seems extremely surprised to find herself covered in blood, this makes me wonder if perhaps she too was under some type of spell or if she was just so simple minded that she thought the spell was real. Then i think of how brutally must they have massacred these people to have their blood dripping from her face. I see a more shocked impression upon her face than a regretful one which leads me to believe that she was an evil person, but then again what type of evil person would be haunted by their conscience? In conclusion I can see Lady Macbeth as both a good woman under a spell and a good woman that thought she was under a spell due to her subconsious guilt which shows how sorry she feels for what she helped her husband accomplish.
http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://dctheatrescene.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/macbeth-366-spot.jpg&imgrefurl=http://dctheatrescene.com/2008/03/03/macbeth-3/&usg=__XD5qV6JTG3r1AUT7XsStyog_Iew=&h=197&w=240&sz=70&hl=en&start=41&sig2=g29GKqMKTMpJQQae5a7CdQ&zoom=1&itbs=1&tbnid=XLoMimMUWx1pOM:&tbnh=90&tbnw=110&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dscenes%2Bfrom%2Bmacbeth%26start%3D40%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26gbv%3D2%26ndsp%3D20%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=JHrATOCKJ8b9nAeZzeCfCg
rambler: Warrior Archetype
rambler: Warrior Archetype: " Always felt i should be fighting for what is right. That good will always prevail over evil, right will triumph over wrong. I look at t..."
Diamond ENG 102: Blog Entry 2.2: Warrior Archetype
Diamond ENG 102: Blog Entry 2.2: Warrior Archetype: "It is reasonable to say that most everyone has a little amount of warrior spirit inside of them. As living organisms, it is impossible to su..."
Blog Entry 2.2 Warrior Archetype
The warrior archetype 
This archetype is very much associated with the passage from boyhood to manhood. Warriors have massive amounts of physical strength, the ability to protect, defend, and fight for their rights. Warriors are also described as invincible and loyal. A warrior’s energy represents the height of physical power and toughness of their will and spirit. The warrior is unbreakable and a large part of the warrior archetype is to fight to the death.
I chose a picture from the movie 300. The 300 brave Spartans represent the warrior archetype perfectly. This movie was based off a story about 300 Spartans facing certain death while fighting for their rights and protecting their land and families. In the story, the Spartan children were sent out into the wild to live off of the nature and eat the wild animals they have killed wile protecting themselves. If they are able to return to their village after a certain amount of time they are said to be strong enough both mentally and physically, to stay and represent their people. This represents the passage from boyhood to manhood. As the story continues you find that the Spartans are a breed of pure warriors, made to fight for whatever they feel is right, and there is nothing more honorable to them then to die in battle. In this picture you notice the Spartans pushing and fighting back the Persian forces. They seem to be some type of invincible force that is not to be reckoned with, which is why I believe they resemble the warrior archetype so well.
I feel that I can relate to the warrior archetype in certain ways. I am a physically and mentally strong person with a great amount of heart. I am always the one to stick up for my own as well as my friends’ rights and honor. I tend to get into a lot of fights, both mentally and physically. I’m not sure whether they are drawn toward me or if I am drawn toward them but either way I am always proud of my decisions win or lose.
Blog Entry 2.1
Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) was an English poet, who was born in London
“The Goblin Market” was one of Rossetti’s most famous poems, which was published in her book Goblin Market and Other Poems in 1862. This work is what ranked her among the most important female Victorian poets.
The plot of this poem is pretty extensive. It begins with the goblin merchants listing all the fruits that they have to sell to young maidens. Then, two sisters by the names of Lizzie and Laura are introduced, who go to the stream every evening to collect water. While they were collecting water, the girls heard the shouts coming from the goblin market trying to persuade the girls to come taste the goblin fruits. Laura was intrigued by the goblin merchants, while Lizzie urged her sister not to listen or pay attention to them. Laura, however, was too curious about the splendid fruits that the goblin merchants offered to heed her sister’s warnings. When Lizzie ran off home and Laura stayed behind, the goblin merchants came to Laura and tantalized her with their fruits. Laura told the merchants that she had no money to buy any of their fruits, but they agreed to trade some fruits in exchange for a lock of her hair and a tear. She passionately indulged in the in the flavors of the fruits and after walked home by herself. When Laura returned home, she was met at the gate by Lizzie. Lizzie reminded Laura the dangers of being out so late, warning her once again of the goblin merchants and the story of a girl named Jeanie who died after eating their fruits. Once inside the house, the sisters curl up together in the bed that they shared and went to sleep. The following day, Laura’s mind was too preoccupied with the thought of getting more fruit to think of anything else. However, when the sisters returned to the stream that evening to collect water as they usually do, Laura could no longer hear the cries from the merchants for her to come buy some fruit. Being unable to get more of the fruit and suffering from withdrawal of not having the fruit, Laura becomes physically ill and mentally depressed. One day, Laura remembered the seed that she brought home from her night at the goblin market and planted it with hope of harvesting the fruit herself, but nothing grew. Her condition got much worse over time, to the point where she stopped doing her housework and wouldn’t eat. Lizzie, unable to bear her sister being near death, decided to visit the goblin market so she could get some of the fruit for Laura. Upon entering the market, all the goblins got very excited and crowded around Lizzie, trying to get her to eat their fruit. Lizzie asked to purchase some fruits to bring home to Laura, but the goblins refused to let her leave the market with the fruits and insisted that Lizzie eat them there. The goblins became very hostile when Lizzie denied the fruit and began to try to force the fruit into Lizzie’s mouth. She kept her lips closed while the goblins covered her in fruit juices and pulp while physically beating her. Eventually, the goblins got weary and frustrated of trying to force Lizzie to eat the fruit so they went on their way, leaving her alone. Lizzie made her way home back to her sick sister and told Laura to drink the juices and eat the pulp off of her body. Laura does so and by the next day she was back to her old self. Lizzie’s brave actions to save her sister’s life made Laura realize the strength of sisterly love and the dangers of the goblin merchants’ fruits, and the poem ends with the two girls grown up, teaching their children these same lessons.
Christina Rossetti used a lot of symbolism in her poem. The two girls, Laura and Lizzie, were described as very innocent and pure; the part when the girls went to sleep in the bed that they shared (lines 184-198), Rossetti used words such as blossoms, flakes of snow and wands of ivory to describe them. She adorned her two characters with hair of gold, which was precious to the goblin merchants (hence why they traded their fruit for a lock of Laura’s hair). Even the part when Laura was being entranced by the goblin merchants (lines 81-85), Rossetti used words such as swan, lily and moonlit branch to describe the girl.
On the other hand, the goblin merchants were described as horrible little creatures. They were often referred to as evil and were portrayed as animalistic, both in looks and in actions. They made obnoxious sounds and touched Lizzie inappropriately.
There are three major archetypes found in “The Goblin Market”. First, Laura is portrayed as “The Innocent”, who is an inexperienced that is exposed to evil; Lizzie is depicted as “The Wise Old Woman” because she is “a character that assists or guides the protagonist”; lastly, the goblin men were the monsters or villains of the poem, since they were the antagonist characters.
(The definitions of these archetypes were found on the following website: http://www.peninsula.wednet.edu/classroom/robisonp/unit%204%20trad%20archetype%20list.htm)
This poem was written with so much emotion and passion in the symbolism and descriptions that it makes me feel that either Christina Rossetti herself or a female who was close to her had experienced some heart-wrenching wrong doing from a man. The women in the poem were glorified in their descriptions that depicted them as innocent and pure, whereas the men “goblins”, as they were referred to, were evil and malicious. It seems that Rossetti is trying to say that all men are this way because the only time a male character was present, he was a goblin. These goblins are who tempt the women to “eat the fruit”, which leads these women into a complete self-degeneration; the goblins are who corrupted Jeanie, who “dwindled and grew grey” (line 156) before she died after eating the goblin’s fruits. If these metaphors don’t seem an obvious enough reference to demonizing men as corruptors of innocent women, there is a very graphic scene where Lizzie went to the goblin market to get some fruits for Laura, who is already dying from having tasted the fruit, and the goblin men tried to force Lizzie to eat the fruit. This might at first not seem so significant, but the disturbing description of the “juice that syrrupp’d all her face, And lodg’d in dimples of her chin, And streaked her neck which quaked like curd” (lines 434-436) sounds an awful lot like a sexual reference, but more importantly an embarrassing and humiliating sexual reference. Such vivid descriptions from an author usually come out when one is writing about personal experience, which is why I believe that this entire poem was written to share the pain of a woman (that was somehow related to Christina Rossetti, if it wasn’t herself) being degraded and humiliated by a man.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)