The Window

Zoie Uznis

Mr. Provenzano

Honors American Lit.

3-25-12

The Window

            The beat up, red, Dodge Stratus twisted and turned through the dark woods in the Upper Peninsula on dark and stormy fall evening. Within the car sat the very aggravated Jones family. Mr. Charlie Jones had come up with the idea of a family camping trip to celebrate his bonus and his three children’s hard work in school. However the thought of checking the weather had completely slipped his mind.

            “You know if you had just stopped and asked for directions none of this would be happening right now,” said his annoyed wife Shirley Jones.

            “Yes dear, I know that but it would have lost us even more time then we already have. Besides we aren’t lost I just took a wrong turn. All this rain is getting to my head.”

            In the backseat, pushed together like a can of sardines, sat their three children Maurine, Donald, and Abigail. Maurine, the oldest at the age of fourteen, sat attempting to read while her two younger siblings, Abigail being nine and Donald being five, sat pinching each other.

            “Could you two please just-“ Maurine’s sentence was drowned out with a large popping noise. The car swerved in and out of the road, barely dodging trees as it tore left and right.

            “The brake!” screamed Shirley. “The emergency brake!”

            Charlie grabbed the emergency brake and pulled it up as hard as he could. The car screeched to a sudden, terrifying halt and silence took over the vehicle.

            “So,” Shirley said breaking the silence. “Did we pack the spare or did that slip your mind too?”

            “Shirley, please not now,” said Charlie. “You all stay in the car. I’ll walk ahead and see if there’s any places with a phone we can use.”

            “This is the worst trip ever,” mumbled Maurine under her breath.

            Charlie shot her the “watch you tone young lady” look as he stepped out of the car.

            “Nobody leave this car you understand?” he said. “I’ll be back in a half hour. There’s food under the seats if you get hungry.”

            And with that he waved and walked away into the darkness ahead until it looked as if it had swallowed him whole. Now, Charlie was not the bravest man to walk the Earth but it wasn’t his courage that stopped him from reaching his full potential. No, he lacked the average man’s common sense. As he walked down the road, the rain drenching him and seeping through his coat, he whistled “Old Susana” as if he had not a single care in the world. Then out of nowhere, bolt of lighting lit up the sky and revealed to him an old Victorian mansion just yards ahead of him. Charlie stopped whistling and sprinted towards the ghastly house. As e got closer he saw that the entire front of the home was a giant plate glass window. Through the window he saw flickering candlelight and could hear music seeping through the walls. He rushed towards the house and under the rotting awning that covered the doorway. He knocked and the door and it slowly swung open. As he walked inside, his eyes were to busy taking in the old home that he completely missed the frayed old banner that hung above him. It read, “1865 The War Is Over!”.

            Charlie walked through the towering, ebony doors and was revealed to, what he assumed, was a costume party. The women danced properly in large ornate dresses that reminded him of “Gone with the Wind”. The men were adorned in suits and top hats. All of a sudden the music came to a stop. All of the party guests were focused on him with an almost hungry look in their eyes. One man, who was the host Charlie assumed, stepped forward and looked him directly in the eyes with a look that made Charlie feel as if he was looking directly into his soul.

            “Well, well, well,” the man said. “Who do we have here?”

            “I’m Charlie, Charlie Jones. My car broke down a few miles back. My wife and children are in there waiting for me and I was just wondering if you had a phone I could borrow.”

            “What in the name of all that is good is this telephone?” said a man dressed head to toe in black velvet.

            “I believe our good friend Charlie here is speaking of the new-fangled invention Mr. Alexander Graham Bell is constructing,” said the host who then turned back to Charlie. “Forgive me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Orville Smith proprietor and founder of Smith’s Apothecary.”

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Charlie. “But wait, you said that the telephone hasn’t been invented yet?”

            “Oh no sir. At least not for out usage.”

            Charlie slowly put the pieces together. Something was not right. These people, why were they so confused? It was 2011 of course there were telephones. Almost everyone carried on around either in their ear or in their pocket. There was something very odd going on. Either these people were very talented actors or he had just walked into a very large problem.

            “I should really be going then. My family is in the car waiting for me,” Charlie said as he slowly backed towards the door.

            “Oh no, no, no!” said Orville. “You cannot leave. You see once you step onto the other side there is no way to get back.”

            “The other side of what?”

            “Well you see- no wait it will be easier just to show you. Follow me,” Orville said as he led Charlie up winding ballroom staircase. Charlie stumbled and looked down to see that the black carpet that was covering the stairs had strange, random stains all over it.

            As they reached the top of the staircase Orville made a sudden sharp left turn. They found themselves facing what looked to be a broom closet. Orville opened the door and a set of old wooden stairs was revealed.

            “Watch your step,” Orville said as he smiled widely at Charlie. With a little nudge Charlie began to approach the step and climbed them one by one.

            “Is this the attic?” he asked Orville.

            “Oh yes it is.  So observant you are. It holds all of the homes dearest treasures and secrets.”

            “What do you mean secrets?” said Charlie as he reached the top of the stairs. With every step a horrid, rotten smell filled his nose.

            “Look around you will see.”

            Charlie squinted into the darkness and took a step forward. His foot landed down on something hard and when he put his weight onto it he heard a loud crack of a bone. He startled backwards and he realized what the smell was. He was surrounded by bodies. Twenty or so stacked neatly upon each other, completely decayed.

            “What happened here?” Charlie asked in a hushed whisper.

            “Well you see there were some disagreements after the war. Let’s just say the winners opinion was not one of everyone’s,” Orville replied.

            “I don’t understand. What happened? Who killed these people?”

            “Is it not obvious? I did of course. All those silly people, wanting freedom for all. Don’t they see the difference between us? We aren’t equal and we never will be.”

            “But if you killed them how are you still alive?”

            “You silly man. I have not been alive for hundreds of years. This home has a curse. You may die in it but your soul lives on in a perpetual state on earth. I guess you could say that we are all ghosts, ghosts who are forced to stay here and watch the world grow through that window, for it is the true passage from life to death.”

            “But I am not dead am I? I feel very much alive”

            “You are alive my friend but you won’t be for long. You see it isn’t really fair for you to stay here living and torturing the rest of us with what we want most. Oh no, you will be like us soon enough.”

            “But my wife, my kids! They are out there all alone. They will come find me!”

            “True, and when they do their fates will be the same as yours.”

            “You cannot control fate! You’re insane! If you are a ghost how can you kill me?”

            “It is not I that will kill you, it is the house. You see whether you or I like it or not you can’t leave. Once you come in it won’t let you out. You end up killing yourself out of madness.”

            The thought sunk in to Charlie’s brain. His death was inevitable here so why not just finish himself why he could? He bent down and picked up the snapped bone.

“If what you say is true then I have no point I torturing myself,” Charlie said. He took the end of the bone that was splintered like a knife and held it in front of his skull. He took a deep breath and drove it clean through his head. His scream was so loud that it shook the panes of glass in the window. As he dropped to the floor a misty, blue veil of air came out of his mouth and materialized above his body. Out of the mist came a man who looked like Charlie with a stunned expression on his face.

            “Welcome to your new home Charlie,” Orville said as he began to laugh manically. “Come, let us greet our guests.”

The two men walked down the stairs. Orville returned to the guests while Charlie walked to the window. From the inside of the home he could see his car waiting for him. He looked closely at the window to see his new form in the faint reflection but saw nothing but a green orb of light. The window was his new master. It was the veil between life and death and the wall between him and the life he could never return to.

The Obsession of Death

Zoie Uznis

Mr. Provenzano

Honors American Lit

16 March 2012

The Obsession of Death

Edgar Allen Poe is known throughout the world for his dark short stories. For over 200 years he has been entrancing readers with his words.  Although every story differs from the next they all have the same frightening and spine tingling mood. No matter what the topic of the story is, they are all based around the same gravelly subject- death. No matter what the tale Poe incorporates death into almost every story he has ever written. Poe was criticized for his use of this theme before and after his own death. At the time his works were published, death was not a common subject to write about. He gave death a whole new light by bringing it to the literary world. Edgar Allan Poe made death in literature the attention-grabbing topic it is today.

            One of his oldest stories, “The Fall of the House of Usher” is Poe’s most terrifying piece of work and the most well known. It is a gothic story set in a dark home that is oozing madness in and out of the house. Poe uses symbolism by the house falling with the death of the last Usher. Poe takes the story to a level of fear at numerous occasions in the story. The mysterious narrator, the numerous deaths, and the crumbling house chill the reader to the bone. The anticipation of death and the madness throughout the home is the main key in accessing the fear. “. . . then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inward upon the person of her brother, and in her violent and now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he had anticipated” (Poe, “The Fall of the House of Usher”). Rodrick Usher knows that his death is coming; even with his mental instability the thought of death creeping over him like a black hand haunts him and makes him more insane then he already is. Not all of the events in the story pertain to death, yet it is always the underlying subject. All the actions, words, and mannerisms of the Usher family and the narrator foreshadow death. “The Fall of the House of Usher” symbolizes both the fall of the family name and the fall of the home. Poe uses this symbolism to show how death is inescapable no matter what the circumstance.

           Poe wrote “The Premature Burial,” another one maddening and death obsessed stories. This short story shows the terror in being buried alive, and how eventually, one will die no matter what. Unlike Poe’s other stories, it is not the narrator that experiences the true terror of being buried alive; it is the psychological aspect that drives him insane. “The true wretchedness, indeed – the ultimate woe – is particular, not diffuse. That the ghastly extremes of agony are endured by man the unit, and never by man the mass – for let us thank a merciful God” (Poe, “The Premature Burial”)! Poe messes with the reader’s head by planning events to make the reader assume that the narrator will be the one buried alive. The narrator drives himself the breaking point of paranoia, always assuming that being buried alive is the next major point in his life that will result in his death. The use of this paranoia keeps the reader assuming that the narrator will indeed be buried alive yet by the end of the story they realize that it is all in the narrators head. “The Premature Burial” is the perfect example in showing that even though the topic of the story is indeed death it will not always be the ending. The constant paranoia shows how people’s perception of death from one person to the next.

            “The Pit and the Pendulum” is another story where the narrator is not caught by death. The narrator explains the setting of his “arranged death” and how he waits in terror for the day it will happen. “That the result would be death, and a death of more than customary bitterness, I knew too well the character of my judges to doubt. The mode and the hour were all that occupied or distracted me” (Poe, “The Pit and the Pendulum”). Like “The Premature Burial” Poe shows the different perceptions of death. The narrator is sitting waiting for his death for so long that he would rather be dead then wait in fear for it to happen. “The Pit and the Pendulum” is a short story again that revolves around the concept of death yet has no characters experiencing death first-hand. Rodrick Usher in “The Fall of the House of Usher,” is like these people in the sense that they are waiting for a planned out fate. Poe uses death in all these stories but like the characters in them the perception of one differs greatly from the other.

            “The Black Cat,” is considered Poe’s most disturbing story in which many people and things seem to be gone despite the narrator. The story shows how people change under extreme circumstances and sadly in this case, not for the better. The narrator ends up brutally killing all of his household pets. The two most important deaths are those of his wife and of his most loved cat. “Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such” (Poe, “The Black Cat”)? The narrator had an addiction to alcohol, which caused him to do this heinous act. The story has a direct correlation to Poe who also struggled from an alcohol addiction. With the narrator being the cause of the death, feeling the guilt, going crazy, and being aware of what he has done is different then Poe’s other stories of death. Poe changes the affliction of death to show its unique causes and possibilities and how like its perception differs with each person.

            “The Masque of the Red Death” is the easiest to see the theme of death out of all of Poe’s work. Being set during the time of the Plague in Europe, the Prince Prospero, in an attempt to save the wealthier people, invites everyone to his castle until the plague has been wiped out. The Plague enters the castle and takes everyone’s lives that attended the party. “And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revelers . . . died each in the despairing posture of his fall . . . And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all” (Poe, “The Masque of the Red Death”). The story is an allegory, yet is known both literally and symbolically as a direct correlation to the theme of death. The role of irony is shown in the story by the prince’s attempts to save his friends yet kills them all. The relation of death and time is also seen in the story. The clock chiming after everyone has died symbolizes how death is no master to time. The unavoidability of death is brought up again and again in all of Poe’s work. It shows how no matter what the circumstance is death will always defy you.

            Edgar Allan Poe brought death to the stage of literature like no one ever had before. Death being one of the most sad and mysterious happenings ever to be seen in society has always caused ones mind to shudder. Through the gothic elements, and the events of his stories, they all revolved around the subject matter of death. Death, being different for everyone, always has the same out come. No matter how crazy one gets over the thought of dying it will always eventually happen no matter what the circumstances. Poe’s short stories far exceed other stories of the time to show the concept of death in a way it had never been seen before. Even 200 years later Poe’s works are thought of as the literary building blocks

Bibliography

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Black Cat." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/blackcat>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Fall of the House of Usher." Poestories.com. Web. 10 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/houseofusher>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Masque of the Red Death." Poestories.com. Web. 10 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/masque>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Pit and the Pendulum." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/pit>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Premature Burial." Poestories.com. Web. 12 Mar. 2012. <http://poestories.com/read/premature>.

"Poe's Short Stories Summary and Analysis." GradeSaver. GradeSaver LLC. Web. 14 Mar. 2012. <http://www.gradesaver.com/poes-short-stories/study-guide/section13/>.

Faust Legend

The Art of Gambling

By: Zoie Uznis

“Here lies Ronald Granger,” the tombstone reads, “Loving father, faithful husband, honest and just.” What is not known is that this tombstone tells a lie, a lie that many have known but none have revealed. Ronald Granger was neither honest nor just. No, Ronald Granger was a liar and a gambler. He gambled not only his money away but his and others lives as well. Yes the intentions may have been good at first but the road to riches is not always one walked with honor.

It was January 23, 1969. Ronald bates, better known as Ron, rushed through the blurring black sleet that surrounded him. The hospital was only four miles away but in this weather it would take the time equivalent to nine miles. Ron was no stranger to the many twists and turns on the winding path to the hospital. It was where his three children were born and where his wife Luna’s death had taken place. A sense of déjà vu had set over him. He had traveled this same path in almost the same weather conditions two winters ago when Luna’s last heart attack occurred. To this day he still regretted the events that caused her death. If only he had had more money to use at the casino. If only his luck would have changed just once that night like it should have. And now racing through the sleet the thoughts reoccur in his mind.

When Luna was alive she stayed home all day with their three children Rose who was now seven, James who was five, and little Tobey who was about to turn four. Ron would leave at 6:30 A.M. to catch the bus to work since they had had to sell the car to make ends meet on their last mortgage. From the bus station he would walk two miles to get to his office. He was a contactor at Dumble & Sever Construction Co. Where he had diligently worked for eleven years. When he had first received the job he was a high paying man who pinched every penny he ever earned. But that was before Luna had gotten sick. Luna had a heart condition that had no cure. She would get severe random heart attacks at any moment of the day. When she had first gone to the doctor none of the operations were to expensive for them- they had saved up their emergency money years ago incase something like this had happened. But over the course of five years the operations began to grab a hold of their expenses. Ron began to gamble his money to try and earn a little extra cash to put towards his wife but had no luck. On January 3, 1967 Luna looked up at Ron and he knew this was her last minute of life. After fife years, twenty-three operations, and several loans, Luna passed away leaving behind a five, three and one year old for Ron to take care of by himself.  Something snapped in Ron that day. He had loved Luna so much he would have done anything to save her. He blamed himself for her death. If only he had had the money.

One year after Luna’s death Tobey who was now two was rushed into the hospital. Doctors concluded that Tobey had inherited the faulty heart of his mother. This was his first heart attack. It was a miracle that he survived through the night but to Ron it was just another bill. The Granger family was almost homeless at this point from the loans that had been eating away at Ron’s salary. Ron leaned over Tobey’s sleeping body after the surgery and thought of the casino. He thought of the millions he would win to save his child. Before the doctors could reach him he sprinted out the hospital doors and went straight to the Seminole Bar and Casino- his new home.

He had received the call only twenty minutes ago at the Seminole Bar and Casino where he had been playing a very unlucky game of Black Jack with his months paycheck. His phone rang and in an instant he flipped it open to answer it without even a second to speak his annoyance Dr. Martin delivered the news. Tobey was in urgent care again. Ron grabbed his three remaining chips and sprinted to the dealer to get his highest winnings of the month- fifty dollars.

The sleet had turned into a blizzard by the time Ron reached the hospital. He ran up to the third floor and found Dr. Eric Martin standing over what could almost be a skeleton of a three-year-old boy.

“How bad is it doctor?” Ron asked impatiently as if the question should have been answered without him asking.

“His vitals are the lowest they have ever been Mr. Granger. I’m afraid if we don’t do the final surgery tonight Tobey won’t be here in the morning.” Dr. Martin replied.

“I told you we have no more money. Is there anyway that we could take out another loan? I just went to the casino I won-“

“Mr. Granger,” said Dr. Martin, “Maybe if you saved you paychecks we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Don’t tell me how to save my family! I know what he needs and how to get those needs to him!! Just give me an hour that’s all I need. I’ll have the money.” Ron exclaimed exasperatedly.

“Fine…. One hour and not a minute more but be careful out there Mr. Granger we’re sitting in the middle of the fiercest blizzard of the decade.”

But before his warning could be uttered out of his mouth Ron had already disappeared into the blinding snow.

Twenty minutes later Ron was no more than a mile from the hospital. His hands and feet were numb from the wind and he could barely see an inch in front of his nose. As he veered around the corner a small light was visible in the distance- a fire. Ron rushed towards it as fast as his snow-covered boots would go. When he was less then a yard away he began to slow down. Something wasn’t right. The fire was giving the trees around it shimmery almost wet haze. Ron walked over to the closest one and put his hand on it. The tree trunk was wet with a red sticky substance. He shuddered when he realized what it was. He walked towards the fire to warm himself up so he could continue on his way to the casino when he noticed an abnormal branch roasting in the flames. It looked somewhat like an arm. He leaned in to take a closer look and saw that it was indeed an arm. Bits of flesh sparked on fire and the bone shriveled to a dark charred black. The pieces clicked together. HE shouldn’t be here he would be framed instantly with his history of alcohol and gambling he could never prove himself innocent. As he turned to run away a big gruff man appeared from the shadows. He towered over Ron by a good foot and wore a black hooded cloak that covered his entire body besides his face. His skin was red and raw and his eyes were so black they seemed bottomless.

“Going somewhere?” he asked coyly.

“Oh um well yes I um was going to the casino,” Ron stuttered. “You see my boy is sick and I need the money in about…thirty minutes so I really must be going.”

“Well that’s a shame. You see I was just warming up by the fire. Come sit for a few minutes warm yourself before you continue on.” The stranger said. The fire seemed to be mirrored in his eyes almost as if his eyes were the fire themselves.

“Well I guess I could,” said Ron who was transfixed by the eyes. “But only for a minute.”

Ron sat down a tree stump next to the fire across from the man. The man stared at him curiously looking at him with such desire it shook Ron’s soul.

“You know that if it is financial trouble with your son I could assist you.” Said the man.

“Oh no I can do it myself plus it is way to much to ask for it will set my back four months paychecks.”

“I have an enormous amount of wealth all you have to do is ask, in fact, I have a better idea, how about a trade? A little barter never hurt anyone.”

“Well I guess… What would you ask for in return for $57,000?” Just hearing the amount made him see the casino lights.

“There is one thing I desire… and only you can give it to me.”

“What is it? Please tell me my sons life depends on it!”

“Your soul.”

Ron stopped for a moment and looked at the man in disbelief. His soul? What on earth was he talking about? Maybe he was a runaway from Johnsons Mental Facility up in the next town.

“You think I’m crazy don’t you?” said the man.

“Yes I mean no I don’t I mean… wait how did you know what I was thinking?” said Ron.

“I know many things about you Ronald Granger. About Luna and Tobey. About your gambling. I can make the strain go away Ronald I can make it all end for just your soul.”

“Yes I understand that but my soul? How on heaven and-“

“Don’t you dare mention that place!!!!!!” yelled the man. A burst of flames exploded from his body burning away the cape exposing his true form. Under the hooded-cloak appeared rams horns growing from the man’s skull. His chest was that of mans chiseled and fit but his legs were of a goat with a tail to match. His skin was as red as the fire around him and his eyes blazed with a hatred only seen in nightmares. Ron sat paralyzed with fear at the sight before him. He knew exactly whom this man, this creature was. It was Satan.

“Please don’t kill me! I have children I have a job they need me please sir!” Ron cried out.

“Mwahahaha!” the Devil laughed a laugh that shook the entire forest. “Like I would waste my power on you. No Ronald all I want is your pathetic excuse of a soul.”

“Never! I will save my son on my own without this evil doing!” shouted Ron.

“Boy you will never make it in time without my help. You’ll just go and gamble the night away like you have been doing for the past two years!”

“Tobey needs me he does-“

“If you love your son like you say you do prove it.”

“How tell me! I will take any challenge you have. My children are my life they are all I have left.”

“Then trade your soul for the money to save Tobey. With this operation he will be cured for good,” said the Devil now thinking. He looked at Ron and started to grin. “Lets make it a little more interesting shall we? I will give you the money. I will save Tobey’s life if and only if you turn around right now and deliver the money to the doctor. If you don’t do as I say dire consequences will be put in place and you will rot in hell for eternity.”

“Yes please yes give me the money!” said Ron his mouth watering as the smell of paper money filled his nose.

The devil snapped his fingers and in an instant a contract and a long, burnt, black-feather quill appeared out of thin air.

“Just sign this and follow my demands and your son will live a long life.” Said the Devil.

Ron took the quill and winced as it singed his hand. He quickly scrawled his name onto the paper.

“There done, give me the money please!” Ron begged.

Another snap of his long dirty fingers and a case fell to the ground where the snow had melted away from the heat.  Ron scrambled over and picked it up. He opened the case and saw the most money he had ever laid eyes on in his entire life. Two by ten rows of this packs of money lined the case.

“$57,000 just like you asked. Now go the clock is ticking.” Said the devil and in a burst of fire and brimstone he vanished from sight. Ron looked around quickly, shut the case, and sprinted towards the casino. He would never know Ron thought to himself. Just a few measly dollars nothing big. He checked his watch. There was still thirty minutes until the deadline for the money. Amazed at how no time had passed he hurried into the Seminole Bar and Casino. Just ten dollars he thought that’s all that I will bet. Twenty minutes later he sprinted out the door with the case crammed with $70,000.

“That dumb demon he didn’t think I could turn his little challenge into a bonus for myself now did he.” Ron thought to myself.

The snow had cleared and he reached the hospital with three minutes to spare. He ran up to the third floor to see Tobey. As soon as his foot hit the landing he heard a scream. He sprinted case in hand into his young sons room to find him unhooked from all the machines not breathing. He was dead. The corpse of his three-year old son lay on the hospital bed. Ron sat down dizzy with shock. He put the case down and put his head in his hands and started to cry. As he cried he felt himself getting hotter and hotter. He didn’t think anything of it. All he could see was his son and his mistake.

“How dare I play with the Devil’s game,” He cried. “Why didn’t I just go-“

Suddenly a hand covered his mouth searing his lips shut. A snake like tongue tickled his ear and he heard it whisper,

“Because cheaters never win. Welcome to hell Ron.”