User:Stevenarntson/English Composition/example papers

Yours for the Revolution

 * John Benedict

Sheets of snow melted instantly on my steaming face, only to freeze again leaving trails of ice daggers down from my eyes and across my nose in this sun forgotten hell I call home. I am alive here. With half a ton on my shoulders, I run as fast as I can. The other dogs beside me huff from the weight. But, as the lead sled dog, I am steady and craving more with each stride. “Mush!” the sleigh man yells, and with even more words of encouragement the whip speaks, ripping the air in two, forging a hole big enough for an explosion to escape. The snow crunched beneath us, though barely absorbing the displacement of the entire team of dogs. I truly am alive here. My name is Jack London. I am a writer in the time where nature, it seems, is merely a concept in my pen. The year is barely 1900 and man has forgotten the womb whence he came and the milk that has sustained him. My writings are a metaphor of my own life’s saga. Just like the main character, which happens to be a dog, in The Call of the Wild; I too, was taken from my home early in life to endure a brief time of extreme hardship and unknown fate. I chose this fate. I was 16 years old. Long strands of straw pricked any exposed skin as I rolled with my dreams. The air shifted from feeling comfortable to a nervous chill and the dark air became light as the giant wooden boxcar door slid open. A figure, no smaller than an thirty year old oak tree, quickly blocked the morning sunlight that poured in through the large square opening. My squinty eyes grew heavy again. I was still drunk with sleep. The light disappeared again as if the new day came and went, ready for night. I fell back asleep. My dreams to follow began normal. I imagined myself back home again entangled in another argument with my mother. “If you leave this house again, you’re not welcome back.” “I’m not coming back.” “You’re just like your father. He never amounted to anything and neither will you. You both run away when you get scared.” “I never had a chance to know what dad was like and have you ever thought that just maybe we’re running away from you? I won’t be back. I promise.” I was about to close the front door when I heard a tapping sound coming from above my head inside the house. For some reason I stopped. It was steady. It spoke to me. I walked up the staircase trying not to confuse the creaking steps with this alluring sound. It had a thudding beat. Something driven by force was connecting with a giving solid mass, a noise that maybe only a professional boxer would know too familiarly. I got to the top of the stairs. The sound was emanating from a bedroom around the corner. I crept right up to the door. It controlled me at this moment, wanting me to discover it. The door swung open spewing the most brilliant colors at my eyes, almost blinding me. And there I saw it on the floor before me. The beating continued. Before my eyes, I watched my biological father being beaten to death by a group of men. The lights grew brighter and even wilder. At this point I couldn’t see my father any more. I could feel his pain though. The blood soaked floor remained where my father had been. Yet, I still heard the beatings. My body began to tremble. “What’s happening?” I asked myself. Lightning rattled through my bones. I’m in such pain. The figure from the train car stood over me clutching an iron bar. Between swings, I could glimpse the bright morning sky. My body was no longer on the boxcar. It had been dragged out into the open air. With each blow from the iron bar, I was quickly forgetting the weird dream I had dreamt and was now quickly feeling the regret from ever hopping a train. This figure was the railroad bull. A man can not fight back in this situation. Here, the railroad is king. Growing up in San Francisco and around Oakland in the late 1800’s, it was necessary to know how to fight in order to survive in the gangs we were in. But, this wasn’t a rival gang. This was the law. “Jump my train again. I beg you.” I lay there next to nothingness. A life lesson just realized. Despite my close encounter with death on the railroad, I continued to hop trains throughout my teenage years. It seemed the only way to find myself was to get lost first. I travelled from my hometown of San Francisco to New York. And when I grew restless, I hopped a train again back west, this time in the neighboring Canada. I wasn’t alone on these journeys, though. Other bums and vagrants must have been searching for their lost souls as well, for there were herds of them each boxcar I jumped. At times they were so plentiful that tiny skirmishes would unveil to establish ownership of a train car or even food. Having a rough boyhood, or no real boyhood for that matter, callused me so that I stood my ground like a mountain. The only battles I lost were those against the Bulls, but I quickly learned never again to engage in their kind of war. Those few months were the most exciting thus far. I felt more confident with my position in life. And yet I yearned for more, thirsty for my life-flavored water. I returned home. As soon as I was back, however, I was forced to leave again by this gravity force-like drive that fueled my body and mind. The next thing I knew, I was in motion again. My mode of travel this time wasn’t steam powered, but wind powered. The ropes were thrown and left to the mercy of the land from where we once were moored. Men ran about and around me in a hurried calm. Jumping and running for and aft, from helm to mast and port to starboard. These nautical terms I quickly learned in order to be part of the crew. We were sailing west. I had joined an American expedition to Japan. The prize, seals. This was a hunting party in search of their fortune. I was still in search for my inner being. All the same, it seemed to work in both favors. The massive canvas sheet inhaled what seemed like a timeless breath of wind and propelled the vessel smoothly and effortlessly through the marble polished sea water, as if sharp shears were tearing through silk fabric. The weather in the waters of Japan, this time of year, was ice worthy. “Pull it over the side! Don’t let it go!” My jagged harpoon spear was thrashing in and out of the water stuck in the back of a female seal. The frozen sweat on my palms was not a reassuring factor that I was definitely going to be reeling in this so-called money pot. The seal moaned in pain turning her head back and up staring in my eyes asking me to kill her quickly. With all my might and the help of two other deck hands, we hauled the seal’s one hundred pound body into the ship. Blood sprayed out of her back and sides where she was stabbed as she blindly lunged at her attackers in pure desperation to some how salvage her life. “Hit her over the head. Jackie! Use your spear! Jack!” “What? Oh.” Locked into the eyes of my victim, I couldn’t help but experience her pain. I was enthralled in the seal’s death ballet. I’ve never killed anything before. How could I destroy a creature in its own waters, on its own time? What once was a graceful swimmer exploring the sea in search of food, is now this monstering* blood and flesh mess clinging to its last breath. I performed the deed and the dance was done. This was the beginning of many more dances to come. After this, I am done. No more death. I am Seawolf. We sailed home wealthy from our three month seal onslaught. I was ready to move on to new frontiers with the same prospects, discovering myself. The amazing opportunities I have encountered in these few years since leaving school and home has inspired me to theme them in stories featuring me as the main character in one form or another. I don’t want to tell my stories, I want to live my stories. The waning day exhausts a final encore of colors. The trees speak to each other in short whispers about the sun and sky show they are receiving, while the tree birds roost in preparation of the upcoming day. Triplet candles light my words. A glass of cognac aids my inspiration. This pen bleeds from my hand and speaks from my mind. “Look at my life,” I say to myself. This belongs in a book.
 * monstering: to act/move in a monster-like manner.

Sources
 * 1) London, Jack. The Call of the Wild and White Fang . Harcourt: New York, New York, 1903.
 * 2) "Jack London." Great Writers . Kultur: New York, 1995

A Simple Peace
Jonny Darko My small hut was filled with the aroma of rootleaf stew. Vile it is, a putrid smell that came from the swamps, but learned to love it I did. The smell of home, it is. Better than most, this simple meal suits me. Much like my stew, my exiled life on Degobah is. Simple it is. Simple, but rougher now that closer to the dark cave I have moved. After 837 years, I feel at home again, but not at peace. Wait for my peace I will. Haunted by the decisions of my past I am, haunted by my thoughts and feelings. How could I have missed so much darkness? Felt it growing I should have, but the dark side clouds everything, even the purest thoughts of a master jedi. Now in exile, to reflection my thoughts must turn.

Failed my fellow jedi, I have. I see it all so clearly now but clouded, my judgment was when I needed clarity most. Now, slow and broken am I, like an old man at the end of his life. “More spice my stew needs.” Made the same mistakes, would my master have?

Centuries ago it was, on an uncharted planet when first I met N’Kata Del Gormo. A couple of days it was since the crash, when approached I was by master Gormo. Knew nothing of the force I did, but it matters not. Feel the force surging through me he did. Strong and unfocused, more natural power than any other jedi did I have. In the mighty age of the Galactic Republic it was, an age of enlightenment and power. The jedi searched the entire galaxy for new members, those who were strong in the force. In me did he find his new apprentice.

“Why are you here?” Feel the force in him I could, but know what it was I did not. “I have come for you, my young padawan. You will become my apprentice.” Never met any of his species had I.   Much fear did I have when saw him I did. Coiled was his tail as if preparing to attack, but his presence was calm and confident. Much taller was he and carried strange weapons and equipment he did.

A few short weeks did my training last. Learn much from my new master I did, much about the light and dark sides of the force. “You are unlike any padawan I have ever heard of. The force flows through you freely, and you have almost mastered your jedi skills. There is very little for me to teach you my young apprentice.” Much confusion did I sense. See through him I could. Strong I felt with my new skills. “Be mindful of your thoughts young padawan. You may have the knowledge of the force now, but knowledge is nothing without proper direction.”

True were his words. Never again did I see him. Left to seek the jedi council did I, as I was instructed. The lesson about knowledge, the most important training it was. Knowledge is power and power had I, but what now.

“Tea! Something to go with the stew.”  Helped us build the republic did this knowledge and power. “Yarum seed and Gimer bark will do, yes.” It was knowledge and power that clouded our thoughts. Without balance, even the strongest structure will fall. Fall we did, at the peak of the jedi council’s power and knowledge, because of our arrogance it was.

At the head of the council did I sit, looking deep into the boy. “The chosen one you say, hmm?” All of the masters on the council knew of the prophecy. Bring balance to the force the chosen one will. “Think on this we must.” Obvious it was that many council members had already decided. Flourished did the council in the waning days of the republic and corrupted by power were they. Comfortable, arrogant, and lazy many of the jedi had become. “What say you, master Windu?” Wait I did, until the chamber was empty. Wanted our opinions to shake the council, I did not. “The boy does possess a strong force presence, but he is too old to begin the training.” Clear it was even the most knowledgeable of masters, the dark side can blind. “Perhaps, and perhaps the chosen one he is. Meditate on this, I must.”

How could I not have seen the truth? “Almost ready my stew is. Where did I put that bowl?” The chosen one the boy was, born to bring balance to the force. As jedi, our mission it was to purge the galaxy of those who would live in the dark side of the force. “Bowl, spoon, cup. Good for the stew, this tea will be, mmm. Now eat can I.” Successful, we had been and shifted was now the balance. Many jedi had we, dedicated to the light side of the force. Find a way in this boy, the force did, the chosen one, mmm. Power would corrupt him but balance to the force would he bring.

On Kashyyyk was I, helping the wookiees in their great battle. Through battle meditation, able was I to provide focus and clarity to the wookiees as they waged a war for their planet. “Much pain and suffering do I sense. Pain and death.” A powerful dark sith lord had the emperor become. The order, he gave, to kill all jedi throughout the galaxy. Strong was he in the force. All the knowledge and power of a jedi master did he possess. Corrupt him it did. A powerful agent of the dark side did he become. Unnoticed, all control he took. Dead was the old republic. Give birth to the age of the Galactic Empire it did. “Into exile I must go. Failed, I have.”

A simple satisfaction had I, from the food and tea. Balanced and pleasant, simple was the meal. “Meditate now, must I.” Searched my thoughts I did. Search the past I did, many times for more answers. Clear are my memories, but the simple truth eludes me still. How did I miss this? Fix this, can I? “Simple is my life. Simple is the way of the jedi. Perhaps simple my thoughts must be, yes.” Knowledge. Power. Corruption. Balance. Say these simple words I did, again in my head. Easy are they to understand and hard at the same time. Thinking too much I am. Dwelling on the past can lead to sadness. Sadness leads to fear. Fear is the path to the dark side. “Tired am I. Rest now, must I get. Meditate on this tomorrow I will.”

Crawling into bed, consuming me, my thoughts are. “Time for rest now, it is.” Knowledge. Power. Corruption. Balance. Simple are these words, silent they will not be. With knowledge comes power. Power to learn more. Power to teach. Power to take and do harm. Power to give and do good. Knowledge is power. “Comforting is this thought, yes.” Proud would my master be. Chose I did, to use my power for good. To teach and to give service to the republic. Comfort me, does the simple warmth of my bed.

Power. Without direction, power can corrupt. Corrupted was the council. Corrupted was the emperor. Power caused this corruption. Power corrupts. “Mindful of my thought must I remain.” Hide I cannot from the simple truth. Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. How did knowledge become corruption? Knowledge is corruption. So simple and true it is, but so wrong. For good, knowledge can be used, and for bad. Lack of direction it must be, and lack of balance. “Yes, lack of balance in the force.” Created a lack of balance in the force by hunting agents of the dark side, we did. Try to make the galaxy perfect we did. “Balance is the key. The good without the bad, you cannot have.” Tired am I now, too tired to continue this train of thought. Sleep now.

Give me energy, the morning sounds and smells do. Old am I now and soon, go into the force I will, but not until balance I bring to the force again. “More jedi will there be. Teach them I will, to use the force for good.” Hope there is in the younglings. Feel the force in them I can, and come to me they will. Teach them I must, to use the force. Teach them I will, the lessons of knowledge, power, and corruption. Teach them the lesson of balance. How it is the key. Live through them I will, and bring balance to the force.

“Breakfast, I must have.” Breakfast I must have, and live must I.  Prepare myself to teach the younglings, I must. Knowledge and power. Now direction have I, yes. Only after I teach them can I rest. At peace I will be, only after we bring balance to the force again. Only then can I die. Only then will I take my place in the force. “Only then can I be at peace.”