William Faulkner Essay -- essays research papers

William Faulkner   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   Although leading the life of an educated writer William Culbert Faulkner experienced the times of his life as a Hollywood writer. Probably known as the most famous writer/author of his time Faulkner adapted to his new lifestyles rapidly, and still remained well known in both the movie and book industries.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Faulkner was born September 25, 1897 in New Albany, Mississippi. His named was inherited from his grandfather William Clark Faulkner, a skilled businessman and writer. After relocation to Oxford, Mississippi Faulkner’s father started the First National Bank (â€Å"William Faulkner #3†). As a child in Oxford, William held a very artistic ideal of life, often drawing and writing poetry in school. Faulkner also met his mentor, Phil Stone and his sweetheart, Estelle Oldham in Oxford. Estelle later married a young man named Cornell Franklin in 1918 while still in her youth. Stone on the other hand read Faulkner’s work and instantly recognized his talent and gave him advice and models for study. He also invited Faulkner to stay with him in New Haven, where he worked in a New Haven Arms Company. Faulkner was later invited to be a cadet in the Royal Air Force in Canada. On his application papers Faulkner lied about many things to appear British.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Faulkner never served in the war and never finished training. Although his record showed a lack of military experience Faulkner still exaggerated stories of war on his return home. In 1919, Faulkner quit his brief life of a veteran to enroll in the University of Mississippi. During his time at the University, Faulkner wrote for many local magazines and papers along with the school yearbook and newspaper. Among his many other college accomplishments, before he dropped out in 1920, was the founding of the University drama club ‘The Marionettes’ (â€Å"William Faulkner #2†).   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  For about a year Faulkner wrote for the Mississippian and worked several odd jobs until finally he was recommended a job by Stark Young. The job was as a bookstore assistant in New York City (Walsh). In 1924 many of Faulkner’s poetic works were published in a book entitled The Marble Faun.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  With his poetry book now published Faulkner moved to New Orleans and fell into a literary group that revolved ... ...and 1962 Faulkner revised his current works and finished his trilogy on the Snopes family. Sadly after a tragic horse accident William Culbert Faulkner died at the exact time of his great-grandfather’s birthday.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  In conclusion, to the many details of Faulkner’s life I can agree that he was probably one of the most versatile writers of his time, as well as, one the most well represented through his works. Stories like Faulkner’s are timeless pieces due to their ability to still be relevant even though the story in point may be up to 4 times a reader’s age. Work Cited â€Å"Faulkner, William† Three Famous Short Stories. Chicago: Vintage Books, 1961 â€Å"Faulkner, William Culbert† Contemporary Authors. Vol. 33. Detroit: Gale, 1991. Latil, Nathan, ed. University Wire Walsh, William, ed. Library Journal â€Å"William Culbert Faulkner† Short Story Criticisms. Vol. 1. Detroit: Gale, 1988. â€Å"William Faulkner #1† American Writers. Vol. 2. Minnesota: University of Minnesota, 1974. â€Å"William Faulkner #2† Authors & Artists For Young Adults. Vol. 7. Detroit: 1991. â€Å"William Faulkner #3† MaGill’s Survey of American Literature. Vol. 2. New York: Cavendish,1991. William Faulkner Essay -- essays research papers William Faulkner   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   Although leading the life of an educated writer William Culbert Faulkner experienced the times of his life as a Hollywood writer. Probably known as the most famous writer/author of his time Faulkner adapted to his new lifestyles rapidly, and still remained well known in both the movie and book industries.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Faulkner was born September 25, 1897 in New Albany, Mississippi. His named was inherited from his grandfather William Clark Faulkner, a skilled businessman and writer. After relocation to Oxford, Mississippi Faulkner’s father started the First National Bank (â€Å"William Faulkner #3†). As a child in Oxford, William held a very artistic ideal of life, often drawing and writing poetry in school. Faulkner also met his mentor, Phil Stone and his sweetheart, Estelle Oldham in Oxford. Estelle later married a young man named Cornell Franklin in 1918 while still in her youth. Stone on the other hand read Faulkner’s work and instantly recognized his talent and gave him advice and models for study. He also invited Faulkner to stay with him in New Haven, where he worked in a New Haven Arms Company. Faulkner was later invited to be a cadet in the Royal Air Force in Canada. On his application papers Faulkner lied about many things to appear British.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Faulkner never served in the war and never finished training. Although his record showed a lack of military experience Faulkner still exaggerated stories of war on his return home. In 1919, Faulkner quit his brief life of a veteran to enroll in the University of Mississippi. During his time at the University, Faulkner wrote for many local magazines and papers along with the school yearbook and newspaper. Among his many other college accomplishments, before he dropped out in 1920, was the founding of the University drama club ‘The Marionettes’ (â€Å"William Faulkner #2†).   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  For about a year Faulkner wrote for the Mississippian and worked several odd jobs until finally he was recommended a job by Stark Young. The job was as a bookstore assistant in New York City (Walsh). In 1924 many of Faulkner’s poetic works were published in a book entitled The Marble Faun.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  With his poetry book now published Faulkner moved to New Orleans and fell into a literary group that revolved ... ...and 1962 Faulkner revised his current works and finished his trilogy on the Snopes family. Sadly after a tragic horse accident William Culbert Faulkner died at the exact time of his great-grandfather’s birthday.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  In conclusion, to the many details of Faulkner’s life I can agree that he was probably one of the most versatile writers of his time, as well as, one the most well represented through his works. Stories like Faulkner’s are timeless pieces due to their ability to still be relevant even though the story in point may be up to 4 times a reader’s age. Work Cited â€Å"Faulkner, William† Three Famous Short Stories. Chicago: Vintage Books, 1961 â€Å"Faulkner, William Culbert† Contemporary Authors. Vol. 33. Detroit: Gale, 1991. Latil, Nathan, ed. University Wire Walsh, William, ed. Library Journal â€Å"William Culbert Faulkner† Short Story Criticisms. Vol. 1. Detroit: Gale, 1988. â€Å"William Faulkner #1† American Writers. Vol. 2. Minnesota: University of Minnesota, 1974. â€Å"William Faulkner #2† Authors & Artists For Young Adults. Vol. 7. Detroit: 1991. â€Å"William Faulkner #3† MaGill’s Survey of American Literature. Vol. 2. New York: Cavendish,1991.

Of Mice And Men: Lennie And George :: essays research papers

Of Mice and Men: Lennie and George Of Mice and Men, written by John Steinbeck, is the story of two simple farm hands, Lennie Small, who incidentally, really isn't very small, and his better half, George Milton, on their quest to have "a place of their own," with plenty of furry bunnies, of course. Sound strange? Read on to get clued in. The book opens along the banks of the Salinas River a few miles south of Soledad, California. Everything is calm and beautiful, and nature is alive. The trees are green and fresh, lizards are skittering along, rabbits sit on the sand. There are no people in the scene. Suddenly, the calm is broken. Trouble is in the air. Animals begin to scatter. Two men have arrived on the scene, and the environment seems troubled by their presence. For a moment the scene becomes "lifeless." Then in walk George and Lennie. Lennie, a large, retarded, big man who has the mind of a little child, and who loves to pet soft, pretty things, and George, a little man, who has assumed the responsibility of taking care of his simpleminded friend Lennie, are walking on their way to apply for a harvesting job on a nearby farm. The two had been traveling together for quite some time now, which was very rare, because most farm workers rarely have companions, but George and Lennie have been together ever since Lennie's Aunt had passed away, and Lennie began to follow George around everywhere. Instead of hurrying to the farm that night, they stop by a stream to camp in the open, and they'll arrive at work the next morning. Why? Well, Lennie isn't very bright. George didn't want him to blow the job opportunity. The logic between waiting until morning until going to work was, that way, all the other farm hands would be out working, thus they'd have a better chance of getting the job, since Lennie wouldn't have to confront to many people, which can easily make him "confused." During that evening, George had to take a dead mouse away from Lennie, who had been hoarding it because he liked to pet it. George tried to teach simpleminded Lennie that you don't pet dead things, but Lennie had a hard time remembering. George is aware that Lennie has difficulty remembering things, so he has to remind him every time that they went for a job not to say anything, and to let him do the talking. He also stresses the importance that Lennie returns to the particular place and hide in the stream or bushes if gets in any trouble,

Andy Warhol :: Biography Biographies

andy warhol1 Biography On August 6, 1928, Ondrej and Julia Zavacky Warhola gave birth to their son, Andrew Warhola, in Forest City, Pennsylvania. Ondrej and Julia came to the United States from Czechoslovakia where he worked as a construction worker. The family later moved to Pittsburgh where Andrew suffered from several nervous breakdowns throughout his teen-aged years. Overcoming this he graduated from high school and enrolled in the Carnegie Institute of Technology where he graduated in 1949. After graduation he lived in several Manhattan apartments and met Tina Fredericks, the art editor of Glamour Magazine. His early jobs for the magazine were several drawings. Andy drew shoes as an assignment in 1949 for an article named, â€Å"Succes is a Job in New York,† and the credit mistakenly read, â€Å"Drawings by Warhol.† Andy soon changed his surname to Warhol. Andy’s other work included drawings for advertising in various magazines, such as Vogue and Harper’s Bazzar, book jackets, and holiday greeting cards. As his work grew so did his fame, and in 1952 his first solo exhibition was held at Hugo Gallery featuring his drawings to illustrate stories by Truman Capote. Soon he was designing sets for theatre groups, publishing his own books, and beginning to paint. In 1960 his first paintings were based on comic strips. Using the Dick Tracy comic strip, he designed a window display for Lord and Taylor. At this time major art galleries around the world were beginning to notice his work. In 1962 his paintings of dollar bills and Campbell soup cans were included in an important exhibition of pop art, The New Realists, which was held at Sidney Janis Gallery in New York. After three years of painting Andy dived into a new medium of work and began making his first film with his assistant Gerald Malanga. He also produced am album for the band, â€Å"The Velvet Underground and Nico.† He was working with multimedia and a show soon developed, which featured â€Å"The Velvet Underground and Nico† center stage with Andy’s films projected while colored lights of images fell over the band. Because of the publicity from the show more of Andy’s films began to be seen and shown in commercial theatres. On June 3, 1968 Andy was shot by actress, Valerie Solnis, who appeared in Andy’s movie, â€Å"I, a man.† He survived the shooting after spending two months in the hospital.

Personal

The Committee on Admission is interested in getting to know each candidate as well as possible through the application process. The following essay question is designed to demonstrate your writing skills and facilitate our full appreciation of who you are. The quality of Rice’s academic life and the Residential College System is heavily influenced by the unique life experiences and cultural traditions each student brings. What perspective do you feel that you will contribute to life at Rice? (Most applicants are able to respond successfully in two to three double-spaced pages. In everything I do, I try to reach out to people. My connection with others is what drives me. I like to observe people, to get to know people, to show people who I am. I think that what moves many people (myself included) is the idea that we are all alike. There is a quote from the French film The Diving Bell and the Butterfly which resonates with me: â€Å"We're all children, we all need approval. â⠂¬  This quote shows that we are driven by similar hopes, emotions, and experiences and we can come together to achieve great things.This perspective has allowed me to connect with classmates, strangers, and family in my experiences as the school’s Social Services prefect, as a volunteer at North York General Hospital, and as a granddaughter in a large family. The Diving Bell ; the Butterfly is a beautiful film about a once-successful editor of Elle magazine, Jean-Dominique Bauby, who becomes imprisoned in his own body after a massive stroke. He is completely paralyzed and cannot speak. In one instant, his entire life is taken from him. It moved me to see his despair, vulnerability, and lack of hope; his life which was once so full seemed empty and desolate now.He couldn’t truly live. As someone who loves life, I was brought to tears by the consequences of his stroke. It was ironic, unexpected, unfair, and heartbreaking. Despite this, Jean-Do is able to get through it all. At a defining moment in the film, he says, â€Å"I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory. † It was uplifting to see that this man, who seemingly has nothing, could still have hope. I was deeply inspired by his perseverance; he showed that life is really about having imagination and letting go of material concerns which limit us.In October 2008, I experienced the most stressful week of the entire school year as the Social Services Prefect: United Way Week. As I began the daunting planning and preparation, I felt there was something lacking despite the strong annual tradition of United Way Week. As the years had progressed, students were falling into a routine and typical events were becoming stale. To address a problem that I saw in my community, I did not merely â€Å"party-plan† by resorting to the usual events. I aimed to be strategic by introducing new events. I knew that new events would d raw more interest and unite the student body.However, I also recognized that I could not plan an entire campaign alone. I brought my ideas for change to the Prefect team as well as my peers. I asked them what they would like to see, what kinds of activities they would be excited for. I then mapped out a schedule and delegated jobs. For instance, one new event this year was a competition between my school’s Prefects and our brother school’s Stewards: five from each school in one face-off. As each Prefect and Steward challenged each other one on one, five previously outlined tasks (rap, tell a joke, or dance) were announced and completed impromptu.In implementing these new activities, I was taking a big risk. I couldn’t predict how the students would react or how much we could raise. In the end, our initiatives succeeded in creating substantial change to an established campaign, raising over $12,000 for United Way. Helping others is in my nature. I hate suffering and injustice. Most of all, I am someone of action; if there is something that needs to be done, I will do it. When I help others, I know that I am changing their lives but I also recognize that they give me something as well; I first experienced this as a volunteer at North York General Hospital.In December 2007, a father ran in to the Emergency ward frantically asking for some help. His daughter, who had been skiing that day, injured herself by slipping on the hill. Lying in the van, she was in great pain but could not move. The father needed help in getting his daughter into waiting area. I first looked to Security but they were on patrol and the nurses were occupied helping other patients. I found myself in a difficult situation but I went outside with this father to see what I could do. I brought a wheelchair, hoping the young girl could slide from the car into the chair.However, she was unable to sit without being in severe pain. So we decided to pull her out, supporting her e ntire body. Her father, brother, and I lifted her up in a horizontal position out of the car. We set her down on her feet while continually offering support with our shoulders. Her cries were distressing but there was no other way to transport her in. Finally, when we were inside, I found a line of chairs on which she could lie down. Afterwards, I told her father how to register and what would happen next. Immediately, her father thanked me for being there. At first I had felt helpless that I couldn’t do more.I couldn’t stop his daughter’s pain. I couldn’t fast-forward the registration line. But I soon saw that the help that I could offer, the instructions and information that I had, and the humanity I showed, gave them a small comfort amidst the chaos. My experiences volunteering at the hospital showed me that suffering exists and though I may be unable to fix it, I alleviate the situation by doing what is in my power to do. In my family, loyalty is extr emely important. Spending time with family is an unquestionable responsibility for all of us: we are there for each other.Ever since I arrived in Canada as a 4-year old girl, I have been attending my grandmother’s birthday dinners each year in October. I can remember entering the traditional red and gold restaurant as a young child. Before I did anything else, my mother instructed me first to wish my grandmother a happy birthday and a lucky and long life, both of which are traditional Chinese phrases, and then kiss her once on both cheeks. As a child in elementary school, I barely understood the significance of the repetition of those phrases.Throughout my grandmother’s celebratory dinner, I occupied myself with Nintendo Games or hand games with my cousins. At the end of each dinner came the Chinese fruitcake. I always had to have the slice with a strawberry on top. By the end of the dinner, I hardly realized that I had barely spoken to my grandmother. Reflecting back on those times, I now have a bigger comprehension of the importance of family. I see how my grandmother loved to hear those phrases I said to her and how much it meant to her. Now as a teenager entering university, I long to say so much more.I want to update her on my school work or my friends or my dreams. I see the duty I have as a granddaughter, daughter, and sister in a family: to respect the bond that we are born with, to support my relatives because I know that I will always have my family to fall back on. Another form of expression that I value is in the music I listen to. If I have had a tough day, I put on my â€Å"Soothing Playlist†. In it is one of my favourite songs, â€Å"A Better Son/Daughter† by Rilo Kiley. The cerebral lyrics describe the difficulties that we all go through: you’ll be positive though it hurts / and you’ll laugh and embrace all your friends.I can relate to these lyrics because sometimes the commitments I take on overwhelm m e. During chaotic and stressful times, it is difficult to keep on top of everything. But I always keep at it because this is what I truly love to do. Going to dance club, singing in choir, researching in a lab: all of these things allow me to explore my interests and enjoy myself, helping me to grow as a person. It is only realistic to recognize that some days are harder than others. Nobody is perfect. This song and many others on my playlist encourage me to push through because I’ll be stronger for it.My desire for growth always involves reaching out to others: showing loyalty to friends and family; offering my support as a volunteer at the hospital; using the unity of my school to raise money that goes to a greater cause. My great ambitions are achieved by supporting and relying on others. I value family, perseverance, morals and I am a confident, ambitious, leader with a need for a strong community. This is what I will bring to Rice’s academic life and residence; I hope to connect with my peers and mentors in order to grow and achieve my goals.

Chick-fil-a case study Essay

Looking at this case study, it really shows me how a company that has morals and beliefs can still make it in this competitive environment. I am a huge Chick-fil-A fan and am proud of them for standing by their beliefs. The types of marketing strategies used by Chick-fil-A are substantial and completely different from every other restaurant in the United States. Chick-fil-A’s unique corporate culture derives from Cathy’s Christian background and his desire to inspire and influence people. The company’s official statement of corporate purpose is â€Å"to glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that is entrusted to us and to have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A† (Wilkinson, p.631). Another form of their marketing strategy that Chick-fil-A uses is their extensive corporate giving programs. The company has helped thousands of restaurant employees, foster children, and other young people through the WinShape Foundation that Cathy established in 1984 to help â€Å"shape winners† (Wilkinson, p.631). Their advertising is also a key role in their marketing strategy, using the â€Å"Eat Mor Chikin† campaign is one of the longest-running, and one of the most successful, advertising campaigns in the United States (Wilkinson, p.631). Chick-fil-A’s positioning strategy is a faith based and giving company that wants to help the community through charity. Their position on being closed on Sunday’s is proven by their owners statement saying, if it took seven day to make a living with a restaurant, then we needed to be in some other line of work (Wilkinson, p. 631). Being a wholesome company that wants to make a living instead of making a fortune has been a great successful position strategy for Chick-fil-A and is proven by their increase of sales yearly. I do believe that being closed of Sunday is a competitive advantage for Chick-fil-A. One of the reasons why it is a competitive advantage is because Chick-fil-A is the only restaurant that is known for being closed on Sunday and I believe that doing that shows how family, Christian based the restaurant is and makes them appeal to a vast percentage of the United States. The survey in our class proved to me that them being closed on Sundays was a competitive advantage because the majority of my classmates said that it makes them want to eat Chick-fil-A on Mondays because they can’t have it on Sundays. Obviously it isn’t a disadvantage because of the amount of sales that they had in 2005 with $1.975 billion in sales with forecasted sales of $3 billion by 2010 (Wilkinson, p. 631). I personally don’t believe that any other restaurant in the industry should consider closing on Sundays. One of the reasons I say that is because they are the first company to do it and if any company was to follow they would be called copycats of Chick-fil-A and I believe that it wouldn’t be a benefit for the company. The only way that it might work for a company, it would have to be a new company to the market and couldn’t sell chicken or look anything like Chick-fil-A. Probably in my opinion there isn’t another retailer in any type of industry that could get away with being closed on Sunday without backlash. Since Chick-fil-A started this at the beginning of the company and have stuck to their guns on this and that’s why they have had success with it, and honestly that’s Chick-fil-A’s special thing for the industry and no one else could use it. Chick-fil-A is a great company and I hope that they continue being a community steward and helping employees better themselves. Work Cited Dr. J.B. Wilkinson (2011). Chick-fil-A: â€Å"Eat Mor Chikin† (Except on Sunday). Retrieved from Basic Marketing- A marketing strategy planning approach

A Woman In Berlin

It seems obvious that a civilian population would experience and have a perspective on warfare than members of the military, but for those who perpetrate warfare – mainly the multi-national moneyed corporate interests, the bankers and stockbrokers, and the politicians who ultimately give the orders while rarely – if –ever – suffering the direct consequences, it seems to matter little. It has been this way throughout human history, but up until the advent of mechanized warfare, it was primarily soldiers, whose job it is to carry out orders, who experienced the consequences first-hand. Civilian populations have suffered these consequences periodically throughout history as well, but it was after the development of mechanized slaughter that civilians became regular first-hand victims of the horrors of war. The American Civil War and the First World War had brought this to civilian populations on a wide-scale basis to some extent, but it was really the Second World War in which mechanized warfare had been perfected to the point that virtually any civilian population could be affected – including that of Germany. The Germans had been subject to humiliation and hunger following the First World War as well as major economic upheavals – conditions that allowed Hitler to come to power in the first place. Nonetheless, German villages, cities and infrastructure had survived the 1914-1918 conflict nearly intact. This was not the case during the Second World War. Germany, for a brief time had been the world’s great superpower, which seemed only fitting to its people – particularly after the country’s spectacular rise prior to hostilities, and the apparent ease with which German forces had secured lebensraum for the deutsches leute. The anonymous author of A Woman In Berlin, a day-by-day account of Berlin’s fall and subsequent occupation by Soviet military, gives us a vivid account of the subsequent disbelief, the initial clinging to hope in the face, the changed perspective on everyday life, and the various survival tactics employed. Mainly however, it is a story of the transition from feelings of power over one’s fate to powerlessness, and what issues, formerly trivial, take on monumental importance in the face of a struggle simply to survive: â€Å"Heart, hurt, love, desire – how foreign, how distant those words sound now. Evidently a sophisticated, discriminating love life requires three square meals a day. † 1 It is also an experience of life stripped to its bare essentials: â€Å"Once again, we see what a dubious blessing technology is. Machines with no intrinsic value, worthless if you can’t plug them in somewhere. Bread however is absolute. †2 In light of this, it is fascinating to see how people – at least in the beginning – grasp on to any semblance of order as civilization collapses about them. On page 13 is a stark example of the unique cultural traits of the German people of that time; cultural traits that had allowed Hitler and the Nazi party to seize the power that eventually led to the downfall: despite the lack of enforcement, despite the fact that the tram is nearly empty, the narrator walks alongside it in a pouring simply because she does not have the Class III ticket that would entitle her to ride. â€Å"Order. It’s rooted deep inside us; we do what we are told. 3 As the Russians enter the city, suddenly, they are no longer a distant, faceless enemy; they are humans like the German civilians, but unlike the Germans, they are predominantly young, male, relatively well-fed – and enraged. It is not always acknowledged that the Russians suffered far greater casualties than the U. S. , Great Britain and the free garrisons from countries such as France and Poland combined. According to the official Nazi party line, Slavs, i. . Russians, were little better than Jews, Gypsies and homosexuals. Despite ukaz Stalina (Stalin’s decree), repeated acts of rape and assault occur. As one Russian insists: â€Å"What did the Germans do to our women? †4 revealing that these are not acts of lust or sexual hunger; these are acts of vengeance. Ultimately, and perhaps inevitably, hunger and safety needs – the lowest needs on Maslow’s hierarchy – take priority as the vanquished adapt in order to survive. The narrator is willing to submit to â€Å"Only one† in order to avoid being gang-raped. Even during the act itself, she’s â€Å"only half present, and that half is no longer resisting. †5 Eventually, she must find â€Å"a single wolf to keep away the pack. †6 Ultimately, even the men â€Å"adapt,† surrendering and serving the conquerors; despite orders not to surrender, the desire to live wins out. One difference between Soviet combat troops and that of every other combatant is the presence of women: â€Å"We’re amazed to see so many woman soldiers, with field tunics, skirts, berets and insignia†7 It is unclear from the narrative if the presence of Russian women prevented the brutish behavior from being worse than it was, but it is noteworthy that eventually, victor and vanquished are on first-name basis, actually interacting on a human level. One stark difference between the civilian and the military perspective stands out in bold relief: in the military, there is usually a bond of brotherhood among the soldiers of a given unit. In the heat of battle, a soldier isn’t fighting for his flag, for geo-political advantage or territory; they’re fighting for their comrades. On the other hand, among the civilians, it seems to come down for every man or woman for his/herself: â€Å"I couldn’t care about the lot of them†¦all my feelings seem dead, except for the drive to live. †8 This story is a history of a little-known chapter of World War II, but it is more importantly a testament to the overwhelming power of the survival instinct.

The Vampire Diaries: The Struggle Chapter Two

The police had found Stefan's abandoned car by Old Creek Road. That meant he'd left it somewhere between Drowning Creek and the woods. Elena stumbled on the overgrown path through the graveyard, but she kept moving, head down, arms hugging her light sweater to her. She had known this graveyard all her life, and she could find her way through it blind. By the time she crossed the bridge, her shivering had become painful. It wasn't snowing as hard now, but the wind was even worse. It cut through her clothes as if they were made of tissue paper, and took her breath away. Stefan, she thought, and turned onto Old Creek Road, trudging northward. She didn't believe what Damon had said. If Stefan were dead she wouldknow. He was alive, somewhere, and she had to find him. He could be anywhere out in this swirling whiteness; he could be hurt, freezing. Dimly, Elena sensed that she was no longer rational. All her thoughts had narrowed down to one single idea. Stefan. Find Stefan. It was getting harder to keep to the road. On her right were oak trees, on her left, the swift waters of Drowning Creek. She staggered and slowed. The wind didn't seem quite so bad any more, but she did feel very tired. She needed to sit down and rest, just for a minute. As she sank down beside the road, she suddenly realized how silly she had been to go out searching for Stefan. Stefan would come to her. All she needed to do was sit here and wait. He was probably coming right now. Elena shut her eyes and leaned her head against her drawn-up knees. She felt much warmer now. Her mind drifted and she saw Stefan, saw him smile at her. His arms around her were strong and secure, and she relaxed against him, glad to let go of fear and tension. She was home. She-was where she belonged. Stefan would never let anything hurt her. But then, instead of holding her, Stefan was shaking her. He was ruining the beautiful tranquility of her rest. She saw his face, pale and urgent, his green eyes dark with pain. She tried to tell him to be still, but he wouldn't listen.Elena, get up , he said, and she felt the compelling force of those green eyes willing her to do it.Elena, get up now – â€Å"Elena, get up!† The voice was high and thin and frightened. â€Å"Come on, Elena! Get up! We can't carry you!† Blinking, Elena brought a face into focus. It was small and heart-shaped, with fair, almost translucent skin, framed by masses of soft red curls. Wide brown eyes, with snowflakes caught in the lashes, stared worriedly into hers. â€Å"Bonnie,† she said slowly. â€Å"What are you doing here?† â€Å"Helping me look for you,† said a second, lower voice on Elena's other side. She turned slightly to see elegantly arched eyebrows and an olive complexion. Meredith's dark eyes, usually so ironic, were worried now, too. â€Å"Stand up, Elena, unless you want to become an ice princess for real.† It should have been warmer inside the car, but Elena's nerve endings were coming back to life, making her shake, telling her how cold she really was. Winter is an unforgiving season, she thought as Meredith drove. â€Å"What's going on, Elena?† said Bonnie from the back seat. â€Å"What did you think you were doing, running away from school like that? And how could you come out here?† Elena hesitated, then shook her head. She wanted nothing more than to tell Bonnie and Meredith everything. To tell them the whole terrifying story about Stefan and Damon and what had really happened last night to Mr. Tanner – and about after. But she couldn't. Even if they would believe her, it wasn't her secret to tell. â€Å"Everyone's out looking for you,† Meredith said. â€Å"The whole school's upset, and your aunt was nearly frantic.† â€Å"Sorry,† said Elena dully, trying to stop her violent shivering. They turned onto Maple Street and pulled up to her house. Aunt Judith was waiting inside with heated blankets. â€Å"I knew if they found you, you'd be half-frozen,† she said in a determinedly cheerful voice as she reached for Elena. â€Å"Snow on the day after Halloween! I can hardly believe it. Where did you girls find her?† â€Å"On Old Creek Road, past the bridge,† said Meredith. Aunt Judith's thin face lost color. â€Å"Near the graveyard? Where the attacks were? Elena, howcould you?†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Her voice trailed off as she looked at Elena. â€Å"We won't say anything more about it right now,† she said, trying to regain her cheerful manner. â€Å"Let's get you out of those wet clothes.† â€Å"I have to go back once I'm dry,† said Elena. Her brain was working again, and one thing was clear: she hadn't really seen Stefan out there; it had been a dream. Stefan was still missing. â€Å"You have to do nothing of the kind,† said Robert, Aunt Judith's fianc ¦. Elena had scarcely noticed him standing off to one side until then. But his tone brooked no argument. â€Å"The police are looking for Stefan; you leave them to their job,† he said. â€Å"The police think he killed Mr. Tanner. But he didn't. You know that, don't you?† As Aunt Judith pulled her sodden outer sweater off, Elena looked from one face to another for help, but they were all the same. â€Å"Youknow he didn't do it,† she repeated, almost desperately. There was a silence. â€Å"Elena,† Meredith said at last, â€Å"no one wants to think he did. But – well, it looks bad, his running away like this.† â€Å"He didn't run away. He didn't! Hedidn't – â€Å" â€Å"Elena, hush,† said Aunt Judith. â€Å"Don't get yourself worked up. I think you must be getting sick. It was so cold out there, and you got only a few hours of sleep last night†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She laid a hand on Elena's cheek. â€Å"I'm not sick,† she cried, pulling away. â€Å"And I'm not crazy, either – whatever you think. Stefan didn't run away and he didn't kill Mr. Tanner, and I don't care if none of you believes me†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She stopped, choking. Aunt Judith was fussing around her, hurrying her upstairs, and she let herself be hurried. But she wouldn't go to bed when Aunt Judith suggested she must be tired. Instead, once she had warmed up, she sat on the living room couch by the fireplace, with blankets heaped around her. The phone rang all afternoon, and she heard Aunt Judith talking to friends, neighbors, the school. She assured all of them that Elena was fine. The†¦ the tragedy last night had unsettled her a bit, that was all, and she seemed a little feverish. But she'd be good as new after a rest. Meredith and Bonnie sat beside her. â€Å"Do you want to talk?† Meredith said in a low voice. Elena shook her head, staring into the fire. They were all against her. And Aunt Judith was wrong; she wasn't fine. She wouldn't be fine until Stefan was found. Matt stopped by, snow dusting his blond hair and his dark blue parka. As he entered the room, Elena looked up at him hopefully. Yesterday Matt had helped save Stefan, when the rest of the school had wanted to lynch him. But today he returned her hopeful look with one of sober regret, and the concern in his blue eyes was only for her. The disappointment was unbearable. â€Å"What are you doing here?† Elena demanded. â€Å"Keeping your promise to ‘take care of me'?† There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes. But Matt's voice was level. â€Å"That's part of it, maybe. But I'd try to take care of you anyway, no matter what I promised. I've been worried about you. Listen, Elena – â€Å" She was in no mood to listen to anyone. â€Å"Well, I'm just fine, thank you. Ask anybody here. So you can stop worrying. Besides, I don't see why you should keep a promise to amurderer. â€Å" Startled, Matt looked at Meredith and Bonnie. Then he shook his head helplessly. â€Å"You're not being fair.† Elena was in no mood to be fair either. â€Å"I told you, you can stop worrying about me, and about my business. I'm fine, thanks.† The implication was obvious. Matt turned to the door just as Aunt Judith appeared with sandwiches. â€Å"Sorry, I've got to go,† he muttered, hurrying to the door. He left without looking back. Meredith and Bonnie and Aunt Judith and Robert tried to make conversation while they ate an early supper by the fire. Elena couldn't eat and wouldn't talk. The only one who wasn't miserable was Elena's little sister, Margaret. With four-year-old optimism, she cuddled up to Elena and offered her some of her Halloween candy. Elena hugged her sister hard, her face pressed into Margaret's white-blond hair for a moment. If Stefan could have called her or gotten a message to her, he would have done it by now. Nothing in the world would have stopped him, unless he were badly hurt, or trapped somewhere, or†¦ But Stefan was in trouble, and she had to find him somehow. She worried about it all through the evening, desperately trying to come up with a plan. One thing was clear; she was on her own. She couldn't trust anyone. It grew dark. Elena shifted on the couch and forced a yawn. â€Å"I'm tired,† she said quietly. â€Å"Maybe I am sick after all. I think I'll go to bed.† Meredith was looking at her keenly. â€Å"I was just thinking, Miss Gilbert,† she said, turning to Aunt Judith, â€Å"that maybe Bonnie and I should stay the night. To keep Elena company.† â€Å"What a good idea,† said Aunt Judith, pleased. â€Å"As long as your parents don't mind, I'd be glad to have you.† â€Å"It's a long drive back to Herron. I think I'll stay, too,† Robert said. â€Å"I can just stretch out on the couch here.† Aunt Judith protested that there were plenty of guest bedrooms upstairs, but Robert was adamant. The couch would do just fine for him, he said. After looking once from the couch to the hall where the front door stood plainly in view, Elena sat stonily. They'd planned this between them, or at least they were all in on it now. They were making sure she didn't leave the house. When she emerged from the bathroom a little while later, wrapped in her red silk kimono, she found Meredith and Bonnie sitting on her bed. â€Å"Well, hello, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,† she said bitterly. Bonnie, who had been looking depressed, now looked alarmed. She glanced at Meredith doubtfully. â€Å"She knows who we are. She means she thinks we're spies for her aunt,† Meredith interpreted. â€Å"Elena, you should realize that isn't so. Can't you trust us at all?† â€Å"I don't know. Can I?† â€Å"Yes, because we're yourfriends. † Before Elena could move, Meredith jumped off the bed and shut the door. Then she turned to face Elena. â€Å"Now, for once in your life, listen to me, you little idiot. It's true we don't know what to think about Stefan. But, don't you see, that's your own fault. Ever since you and he got together, you've been shutting us out. Things have been happening that you haven't told us about. At least you haven't told us the whole story. But in spite of that, in spite of everything, we still trust you. We still care about you. We're still behind you, Elena, and we want to help. And if you can't see that, then youare an idiot.† Slowly, Elena looked from Meredith's dark, intense face to Bonnie's pale one. Bonnie nodded. â€Å"It's true,† she said, blinking hard as if to keep back tears. â€Å"Even if you don't like us, we still like you. â€Å" Elena felt her own eyes fill and her stern expression crumple. Then Bonnie was off the bed, and they were all hugging, and Elena found she couldn't help the tears that slid down her face. â€Å"Yangtze?† Bonnie's eyes widened. â€Å"But why would he want to kill a dog?† â€Å"I don't know, but he was there that night, in your house. And he was†¦ angry. I'm sorry, Bonnie.† Bonnie shook her head dazedly. Meredith said, â€Å"Why don't you tell the police?† Elena's laugh was slightly hysterical. â€Å"I can't. It's not something they can deal with. And that's another thing I can't explain. You said you still trusted me; well, you'll just have to trust me about that.† Bonnie and Meredith looked at each other, then at the bedspread, where Elena's nervous fingers were picking a thread out of the embroidery. Finally Meredith said, â€Å"All right. What can we do to help?† â€Å"I don't know. Nothing, unless†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Elena stopped and looked at Bonnie. â€Å"Unless,† she said, in a changed voice, â€Å"you can help me find Stefan.† Bonnie's brown eyes were genuinely bewildered. â€Å"Me? But what can I do?† Then, at Meredith's indrawn breath, she said, â€Å"Oh.Oh.† â€Å"You knew where I was that day I went to the cemetery,† said Elena. â€Å"And you even predicted Stefan's coming to school.† â€Å"I thought you didn't believe in all that psychic stuff,† said Bonnie weakly. â€Å"I've learned a thing or two since then. Anyway, I'm willing to believeanything if it'll help find Stefan. If there's any chance at all it will help.† Bonnie was hunching up, as if trying to make her already tiny form as small as possible. â€Å"Elena, you don't understand,† she said wretchedly. â€Å"I'm not trained; it's not something I can control. And – and it's not a game, not any more. The more you use those powers, the more they useyou. Eventually they can end up using you all the time, whether you want it or not. It'sdangerous. â€Å" Elena got up and walked to the cherry wood dresser, looking down at it without seeing it. At last she turned. â€Å"You're right; it's not a game. And I believe you about how dangerous it can be. But it's not a game for Stefan, either. Bonnie, I think he's out there, somewhere, terribly hurt. And there's nobody to help him; nobody's even looking for him, except his enemies. He may be dying right now. He – he may even be†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Her throat closed. She bowed her head over the dresser and made herself take a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she looked up, she saw Meredith was looking at Bonnie. Bonnie straightened her shoulders, sitting up as tall as she could. Her chin lifted and her mouth set. And in her normally soft brown eyes, a grim light shone as they met Elena's. The match rasped and threw sparks in the darkness, and then the candle flame burned strong and bright. It lent a golden glow to Bonnie's pale face as she bent over it. â€Å"I'm going to need both of you to help me focus,† she said. â€Å"Look into the flame, and think about Stefan. Picture him in your mind. No matter what happens, keep on looking at the flame. And whatever you do, don't say anything.† Elena nodded, and then the only sound in the room was soft breathing. The flame flickered and danced, throwing patterns of light over the three girls sitting cross-legged around it. Bonnie, eyes closed, was breathing deeply and slowly, like someone drifting into sleep. Stefan, thought Elena, gazing into the flame, trying to pour all her will into the thought. She created him in her mind, using all her senses, conjuring him to her. The roughness of his woolen sweater under her cheek, the smell of his leather jacket, the strength of his arms around her. Oh, Stefan†¦ Bonnie's lashes fluttered and her breathing quickened, like a sleeper having a bad dream. Elena resolutely kept her eyes on the flame, but when Bonnie broke the silence a chill went up her spine. At first it was just a moan, the sound of someone in pain. Then, as Bonnie tossed her head, breath coming in short bursts, it became words. â€Å"Alone†¦Ã¢â‚¬  she said, and stopped. Elena's nails bit into her hand. â€Å"Alone†¦ in the dark,† said Bonnie. Her voice was distant and tortured. There was another silence, and then Bonnie began to speak quickly. â€Å"It's dark and cold. And I'm alone. There's something behind me†¦ jagged and hard. Rocks. They used to hurt – but not now. I'm numb now, from the cold. So cold†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Bonnie twisted, as if trying to get away from something, and then she laughed, a dreadful laugh almost like a sob. â€Å"That's†¦ funny. I never thought I'd want to see the sun so much. But it's always dark here. And cold. Water up to my neck, like ice. That's funny, too. Water everywhere – and me dying of thirst. So thirsty†¦ hurts†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Elena felt something tighten around her heart. Bonnie was inside Stefan's thoughts, and who knew what she might discover there? Stefan, tell us where you are, she thought desperately. Look around; tell me what you see. â€Å"†Thirsty. I need†¦ life?† Bonnie's voice was doubtful, as if not sure how to translate some concept. â€Å"I'm weak. He said I'll always be the weak one. He's strong†¦ a killer. But that's what I am, too. I killed Katherine; maybe I deserve to die. Why not just let go?†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"No!† said Elena before she could stop herself. In that instant, she forgot everything but Stefan's pain. â€Å"Stefan – â€Å" â€Å"Elena!† Meredith cried sharply at the same time. But Bonnie's head fell forward, the flow of words cut off. Horrified, Elena realized what she had done. â€Å"Bonnie, are you all right? Can you find him again? I didn't mean to†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Bonnie's head lifted. Her eyes were open now, but they looked at neither the candle nor Elena. They â€Å"Elena,† the voice said, â€Å"don't go to the bridge. It's Death, Elena. Your death is waiting there.† Then Bonnie slumped forward. Elena grabbed her shoulders and shook. â€Å"Bonnie!† she almost screamed. â€Å"Bonnie!† â€Å"What†¦ oh, don't. Let go.† Bonnie's voice was weak and shaken, but it was her own. Still bent over, she put a hand to her forehead. â€Å"Bonnie, are you all right?† â€Å"I think so†¦ yes. But it was so strange.† Her tone sharpened and she looked up, blinking. â€Å"What was that, Elena, about being a killer?† â€Å"You remember that?† â€Å"I remember everything. I can't describe it; it was awful. But what did that mean?† â€Å"Nothing,† said Elena. â€Å"He's hallucinating, that's all.† Meredith broke in. â€Å"He? Then you really think she tuned in to Stefan?† Elena nodded, her eyes sore and burning as she looked away. â€Å"Yes. I think that was Stefan. It had to be. And I think she even told us where he is. Under Wickery Bridge, in the water.†