Thursday, November 20, 2014

Archetype - Examples and Definition of Archetype




Archetype - Examples and Definition of Archetype: "Archetype Definition

In literature, an archetype is a typical character, an action or a situation that seems to represent such universal patterns of human nature.

An archetype, also known as universal symbol, may be a character, a theme, a symbol or even a setting. Many literary critics are of the opinion that archetypes, which have a common and recurring representation in a particular human culture or entire human race, shape the structure and function of a literary work.

Carl Jung, Swiss psychologist, argued that the root of an archetype is in the “collective unconscious” of mankind. The phrase “collective unconscious” refers to experiences shared by a race or culture. This includes love, religion, death, birth, life, struggle, survival etc. These experiences exist in the subconscious of every individual and are recreated in literary works or in other forms of art."



'via Blog this'

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

NERF Business Letter

NERF Customer Service
1027 Newport Ave.
Pawtucket, RI 02862

Whoever It May Concern:
I very much enjoy your products. However, I have encountered a problem with your NERF Zombie Strike Crossfire Bow Toy.
When I bought this product, I was delighted.  I am a huge fan. The Crossfire Bow was perfect, the first of its kind that I am aware of, with an adequate number of darts, and a realistic string to make it look like a real crossbow. I was so pumped up because finally a real NERF crossbow had been made! However, I had two small problems, the first problem being the zombies. My family and I are not really into zombies, but this wasn’t a major problem because as soon as I pulled it out, I attached stickers to cover it up. The second problem was much more important. As soon as I loaded the gun and pulled the trigger, a bullet flew out. Perfect. But the second time I shot it, one bullet came straight and fast, like it’s supposed to, but the second bullet barely came out of the socket.
            This was very disappointing because I purchased the Rough Cut gun knowing that it shot two bullets at the same time. I didn’t really care for this feature so I bought the Crossfire Bow knowing that it didn’t shoot two bullets at the same time. If I would have known that the bow shot like this, I never would have purchased it in the first place. I tested the bow five times recently, and three times this occurred. This is very frustrating because I have had little problems with your toys, and they all work wonderfully. Now all of the sudden it is malfunctioning.
            As a dedicated consumer, I request that I will be given a free Crossfire Bow as a result of the poor quality and performance. My friends and I love playing an occasional NERF battle, and this is very disappointing.

Sincerely,

Ethan McFerren




Time Lapse


Sunday, November 9, 2014

Storyteller Project Poster

Sorry its hard to see, but here's my storyteller project

Lost Dreams



Lost Dreams



Shivering and sweating, I woke up startled to find myself on the cold bare floor. All I could remember was my name, Serena Riley. I didn't know what was going on. All I could see in my head were blurry pictures of random people. I felt like my heart was racing faster than lightning. As my cat-like green eyes searched across the room, a knock on the door startled me. I turned around to find myself staring at a boy with shaggy brown hair, tanned skin and piercing blue eyes.

"Serena, right?" he asked with a bright white smile. I nodded wondering how he knew my name, “I’m Charlie," he said.

"Hi," I replied meekly, "where am I?"

"You’re in the Caribbean," he said.

"Oh," I responded. I walked over to the tiny window, next to some pictures of what looked like Charlie and a girl, whom I thought I saw in my dreams. I shivered as I thought about it. "How did I get here?" I asked Charlie.

"You were unconscious in a stranded boat, right over there," he pointed outside to the boat that was still floating in the clear blue water, "my sister, Amanda, took you to the clinic nearby."

“What did he say?” I asked, maybe it would explain my strange dreams.

“He says that you must have hit your head on something that made you lose your memory,” he told me.

Before I could say another word, the lights turned off, books started falling from the shelves and the ground started shaking. Just then, Charlie and I looked at each other and we knew exactly what was happening. We screamed.

"Earthquake!” I turned around to see the girl in the photo, pale faced running towards us yelling.

Then I heard Charlie scream my name as the ground started to split apart. As I tried to reach for his hand I fell into an endless black pit. I plummeted towards my death, thoughts about what would happen to Charlie scared me. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Charlie, I thought. Suddenly, everything stopped.

I woke up with my heart pounding so loud that the whole world could hear it. I took a deep breath. It was just a dream, I thought, just a dream. I sighed as I looked at the time, 7:30 am, the first day of high school. Ugh high school, I thought. I threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie and ran downstairs to catch the bus before it left.

As I reached downstairs the aroma of my mom's famous homemade chocolate chip muffins along with freshly squeezed orange juice reached my nose eagerly. I finished up my chocolate chip muffin, and looked at the time-8:00 it flashed. Oh no I’m going to miss the bus, I thought, so I gulped down my orange juice and raced to the bus stop in the nick of time. I got on the bus and sat down in the front.

Everything about today sucked, and all I could think about was my dream. When they first started I thought it was a normal nightmare, but then it kept on reoccurring day after day. All my life I’ve been homeschooled until now. I’ve actually never been anywhere other than my house, this neighborhood, and my nana’s. But then again I know it means something, this dream, it just has to.

"Earth to Serena," a voice poked in my thoughts interrupting me.

“What,” I snapped as I turned around to see who I was talking to.

"Sorry I didn’t mean to bother you," Rachel said quietly pushing up her glasses.

“Sorry Rachel, I didn’t see you there,” I said feeling bad. I just met Rachel a few weeks ago when she moved in; she’s okay quiet and sensitive, not my kind of friend though. I sighed and turned around staring out the bus window at the foggy sky, thinking about my dream.

And there it was the big old grayish brown building, a pile of bricks and cement, staring down at bus with the words “Melaonre High School” like a black curtain shutting out all my thoughts.

First day of high school. Yay. I think sarcastically.

I entered the halls of Melaonre High the home of Worms, and peeked at my schedule, I have pre-calculus first and my locker combo is, 35-19-6. I checked again to make sure and wrote down the combo on the side of my shoe.

I hurried to my locker to put my stuff away, when I ran into someone, dropping my binder and its contents. Embarrassed I picked up my belongings and looked up to say sorry, but then my mind went blank. It was like I couldn’t form words or speak in full sentences anymore. I just stared and stared until he looked at me and his face went as pale as mine. A part of me wanted to ask him his name and another part of me wanted to run away and hide in a dark corner. He had the same piercing blue eyes and shaggy brown hair; I swear he looked exactly like him.

Finally I started to speak, "Hi, I'm Serena Riley. What's your name?”

"Charlie Gates,” he said hurriedly, his eyes darting back and forth as if he were looking for someone. A few moments passed by and he started to speak again, “Um I got to go talk to my sister, but um, it was nice meeting you Serena, so I’ll see you around,” he quickly said and took off.

"Ok,” I said still trying to recover from shock. This isn’t real, this isn’t possible. How do you dream of someone you never even met? None of this makes sense! I wonder worriedly. I looked back and found Charlie whispering to what looked like his sister, the girl in the photo, from the dream. And for a while it seemed as if they were staring at me trying to figure out if I were real or not. I tried to make out their emotions through their facial expressions but I got nothing. Yet, something in Charlie Gate’s eyes told me that he knew something about me that even I didn't know about myself.


                                             

A Wall And A Stool



A Wall and A Stool
            Another minute, another hour; I had been waiting outside of the theater after my rehearsal for 3 hours now, waiting for my dad to show up. I rolled my eyes and yanked my phone charger from the outlet. Another seven mile walk with my six AP textbooks and stage binders. I packed up my stuff and rose from the bench, with my hundred-ton backpack. I began my walk at a quick pace towards a small alley through Lanston Avenue, which I had previously taken as a shortcut. I gazed up the few stars visible in the sky and drew out a cold breath. The clouds thundered above as I tried to locate safe shelter for my textbooks and me. I swiftly stepped into a small, run down building as the rain began to fall.
            "Hey!"  I looked around to find a source to the loud voice. More mumbled cries echoed through the hall. As I stored my books safely in behind a wall, I caught sight of a small, dimly illuminated opening to crawl through. I slowly made my way towards a battered, but well-lit room. A tear rolled down my cheek and my heart ached.
            Another shrill scream of an innocent girl reverberated through the room, and I grimaced. Small tied up children were being whipped, slapped, and tortured until the abusive adults reached satisfaction. I crawled backwards to the opening when I hit a wall. I tried to turn when something grabbed my legs and yanked me out.
            "Well well, what do we have here?" A thunderous voice rumbled through the building, and I trembled in the large hands of this man with horrifying tattoos and scary piercings.
            "Ha-ha! Boss will like this one, she's fresh meat!" Another vicious voice spit, and at that, I scoffed and shoved out of his grip.
            "Ahem," dusting off myself dramatically, "I happen to be a person, and those children," I said pointing towards the astringent room, "happen to be innocent and have done no wrong!"
            Surprised by my sudden outburst, the men looked dumbfounded. My mother always said, 'Hit a wall? Step on a stool and hit it right back', I always thought that was ludicrous because in the end you'd anyways end up in pain; but today, I thought it came in handy. One of the men let out an acrimonious gruff and next thing I knew, it was pitch black.
            I woke to, what seemed as hours later, a faint room with crying children around me, some crying in pain, others whimpering in fear. A loud thunderous voice pierced through the room, "All right men! We're done for the day, these things will be shipped in the morning, oh and include the fresh meat as well." I gasped at his order and pulled my legs to my stomach. They killed the lights and I squirmed out of the tight grasp of the rope to pull my phone out of my right boot. I quickly dialed '911' when someone appeared in front of me.
            "Hey! What do you think you're doing? Well! Not on my watch!" he kicked the phone out of my hand and my heart dropped several levels. "You think the police will come and rescue you? Well, forget about it! That's another 35 beats for you!" He hit me, and he hit hard. I could feel the dents and cracks in my bones with the hard swings of the bat. Before I blacked out, I smiled at the next four words announced from the phone, "911, what's your emergency?"  
About 5 years later
            "…and that's my story. These children now are very healthy and all in school! The men who committed this injustice are also being taught a lesson, something for everyone! So yea, I hit a wall, but always keep a stool handy, because you never know when you're gonna need it to jump back up and give it a turn around." I smiled and accepted the applause as I hobbled off the stage with my crutch.
            "That was wonderful! It was so inspiring, I'm crying!" My mom jumped with enthusiasm as she handed me another medication to be taken. It had been about five years since the incident, and well, I was still recovering from the traumatic event with the miracle work of the doctors. The news of my story went viral, and parents of those children were so thankful they all pitched in for my operation, which was one and half weeks long. I stepped out, signing autographs and taking pictures, slowly making my way to the car. Once we got out of the large crowd of people, we headed to the Rosettes Foundation HQ; I was proud to have begun this organization after my surgery had taken place, the foundation provided for abused children and strived to put an end to trafficking schemes
            "Alexis! We have just found a small group working on Lanston Avenue," my mind flashed back five years; "…we are sendi-"
            "No, I will go along; some people will never get it and will have to have it the hard way." And with that, I turned towards the car.



                              So to my readers: I really hope you find your stool, in any situation.

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