They were all I could see as I stared at the lit cigarette igniting the beginning of my death. The pain of burning streaked across my foot as I rose into the air and violently stamped my feet to end the brutal agony. The conflagration rose high above the window, to give me a glimpse of the azure blue sky outside and the rest of the world that had no idea of my imminent death or the flames that would eventually destroy the whole town. The fire was almost mocking me, as it let me see only a tiny fragment of the window and the outside where I was so desperate to be.
The inferno raged and made that sickening noise as it burned my possessions and swallowed them like it was about to swallow me. I realized that my only escape was to exit the room and hope that the fire had not spread. In trepidation, I slowly held the door ajar and peered at the inferno outside my room. Indeed it had spread and the choking taste of smoke filled my lungs as I coughed aggressively into my duvet. I felt as if everything inside of me was slowly making its way up my neck and out of me, as I coughed once more for my life. I looked out at my beautiful garden, completely untouched by the mass destruction.
The beautiful roses lay amongst the verdant grass as I inhaled the last gasp of clear air. In the distance, I saw children playing jubilantly with a football, and that clogged me up with envy. I wanted to scream at them, yet they could never hear my cries and they could never save me from the torment I was suffering from. I banged on the remaining window that had not been ruined in the wreckage, yet still my rage was not to be heard. I repeated the same words “Help” over and over again until they were permanently etched into my brain and I felt myself repeating them without meaning to.
The Essay on Analysis For A Rose For Emily
... with a vague resemblance to those angels in colored church windows--sort of tragic and serene" (Norton Anthology, 2046). This ... was a form of death (Warren, 269).In "A Rose for Emily", Faulkner contrasted the past with the present ... time, but only briefly and by retreating into her "rose-tinted" world of the past. This was a world ... An analysis of "A Rose for Emily" by Celia Rodriguez West suggests that ...
Yet still, no one heard my desperate cries and no one felt my searing pain. I looked out at my corridor and at the waves of fire that took over my sea of stairs and bookcases. I stared deeply into the flames and not only did I feel like everything I had was washed away, but my life along with it. I crept furtively down the stairs, almost waiting for another body of orange death to try and wipe me out. However, I remained strong, dodging all that crossed my path and then I saw my wonderful kitchen, killed by the cigarette I left lit.
My china set of cups smashed on the floor, and my wooden table slowly blackening amidst the destruction. I sat for minutes watching everything I had slowly disintegrate at the hands of my stupidity. The pictures of all my family, that I so sadly lost contact with and who will never know that I perished. I stared at the front door, completely surrounded by flames that were stopping me from disembarking from the nightmare. I made a burst through the flames, as an attempt to save myself but I too joined the long list of things that the fire had destroyed. The pain took over my body and I attempted to scream but to no avail.
I felt my life slowly turn blank and I took my last look at life on earth. My ceiling was black as hell, and ash streamed off of it, like the sweat that poured down my face , while the heat continued to diffuse around my once perfect house. I felt like I was there for an eternity as I could see the blue sky turn into a star studded, pitch black one. Suddenly, the door slammed open and the sudden jolt of red fireman outfits filled my view. Ironically, that was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes forever. However, at least I was out of that nightmare world.
