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Compassion vs Cruelty - College English
Compassion vs Cruelty
Lauren Nicolella, Aysha Siddiquee & Greg Tasik
This is a card game similar to the format of Cards Against Humanity, but with fewer cards and many different prompts and situations that pertain to The Road.
The rules:
Each of the 4 players starts off with 8 cards, 4 compassion and 4 cruelty. During each round, the person who’s turn it is reads a context card and gets to judge their favorite answer in response to the scenario. They have the power of which card makes most sense to them, that may make or break the situation you’re put in. The player with the most scenario cards at the end of the game wins.
Objective:
Obtain the most cards in the end, while managing to survive through the different scenarios of survival.
How it’s played:
Shuffle two separate decks of 16 compassion cards and 16 cruelty cards.
Each player gets 4 cruelty and 4 compassion cards.
One player draws one scenario card out of the scenario card pile.
The other 3 players choose one of the 8 cards to respond to the scenario.
The player that draws the scenario card chooses which scenario they like best. (very subjective and random, such as how the characters in the story act)
Repeat steps 3 through 5 till all scenario cards have been drawn.
Player with the most scenario cards at the end of the game wins.
Categories of cards:
Compassion cards (morality)- 16 cards
Cruelty cards (immoral)- 16 cards
Context cards (scenarios)- 8 cards
Explanation & Connections:
The main concept of this game is to make the personal decision on whether something is moral or immoral based on the scenario and decisions the players are given to choose from. In The Road, the man and boy had very limited options of how they could survive and get through another day, which is why we are giving each player a random choice at being cruel or compassionate. The scenarios we chose the players to engage with are either ideas based on the novel, or were major scenes that had taken place and affected both the relationship and well-being of the man and boy. There are connections to cases of starvation, cannibalism, violence, and relationship-building that the man endure on their journey together and it is up to each player to decide which way they would want to live. If it gets picked is up to the judge that round, so keep in mind of who is in charge of that since everyone has different views on survival.
Value System:
The value system is based or morals, and it is up to the players of what is valuable to them in the situation they are given. We wanted this to be interpreted as they are given tiny yet significant details of compassion, and more harsh cruelty cards since it is more of a reality in a survival setting. In The Road, there were encounters with different kinds of people who reacted differently to both survival and with others, and it is their choice to be compassionate or cruel to who they come across. The most valuable part of this game is obtaining as many context cards as possible, so making sure that the people playing you are conscious of how to win you over.
Risks & Rewards:
The main risk is losing all of your cards (if the game ends up going to every round) since there won’t be anymore options for that player and will ultimately die. Whoever has the most cards secures a safe spot in being alive, and is the first to go in the next match.
Compassion Cards- These are the cards that correlate with the situations and actions that occur to the Man and the boy’s journey that revolve around kindness.
Compassion: 16
Share half of your food rations with 1 person.
Allow 1 person to join you on your journey.
Help out 1 injured person.
Feed a wild dog you find.
Share a Coca-Cola with 1 person.
Find a new lighter.
Save 1 person from being eaten by cannibals.
Teach 1 person how to swim.
Use first aid-kit on an injured person.
You find an abandoned house to stay in.
Share multiple cans of food with 1 person.
Bury a dead body.
Teach 1 person how to swim.
Share your dream with 1 person.
Make grape flavored-water.
Snap out of a distracting memory.
Cruelty Cards- These are tragedies that correlate to the obstacles that the man and the boy have to face during their journey.
Cruelty: 16
Kill off the person you across from you.
Take the items and clothes of 1 person.
Get shot in the leg with an arrow.
Shoot at the army passing by.
Eat 1 person.
Steal all of the belongings from 1 person.
Develop a horrendous cough.
No access to food for five days straight.
Kill a baby to have a meal.
Kill the person to your right.
Get invited into a truck on the road.
You get distracted by a daydream.
Face the harsh reality that your partner will die soon.
Have false hope.
Murder a man who innocently crossed paths with you.
Get lost in the woods.
Conext Cards- These are scenarios that correlate to the situations that the man and boy find themselves in throughout their journey
Scenarios (Context)- 8
You find multiple people scared and naked in a barn, what do you do?
You are starving and are resorting to alternate methods. What will you do?
You wake up in an abandoned house and hear someone walking into the room you’re in, what do you do?
Everything you had was stolen and you follow the tracks of the culprit, what do you do?
You get discovered by the army, what do you do?
Another person on the road asks you for your help, what do you do?
It’s between your life and your partner both of you are to cross the bridge, but it’s only strong enough for one, what do you do?
There is a strong wildfire approaching the area you’re camping in, what do you do to survive?
Photos of game:
Close up of Cards
The Road Creative Project
3 to 8 players with a closed hand are dealt a knife card, clothes card, and 3 food cards. This is their starting hand. At the beginning of each turn, players scavenge, or draw one card from a stack of 52 called the “scavenge pile.” Better weapons, additional food, additional clothes, and a rare cart can all be scavenged from that pile. Players are constrained to a maximum of five cards when their turn ends. On a turn, players have several options. First, they can attack another player. In doing so, the attacking player has to consume and discard a food card, while the defending player does not. Both attacking and defending players reveal their highest quality weapon. Every weapon can attack without restraint, except for the gun. If the attack, or defending player has no bullet, the gun cannot be used, and if not backup weapon is available, they lose immediately. Both players are assigned dice according the quality of their weapon. Knife cards receive one dice, flare gun cards get two, bow and arrow cards get three, and gun cards get four. Each player rolls their die and counts up the total amount that they rolled. Whoever has the highest total wins the fight and the other player dies. Both attacking and defending players can die. When a player dies, they reveal their hand and lay their cards on the table face up, and the winner of the fight can steal up to two card from the dying player’s hand. Second, players can steal rather than scavenging. If a player has died or is sleeping, they reveal their cards and lay them on the table face up. Instead of scavenging, players can steal only one card from any of theses piles, and then can proceed to other actions in their turn. Third, in the case that a player is running low on food, they can sleep that turn. Sleeping players cannot scavenge, steal, or attack on their turn, and they reveal their hand. At the end of each turn, players consume and discard a food card, as if to eat. Players that cannot eat at the end of their turn die. Sleeping players do not have to eat at the end of their turn. In addition, if a player has no clothing cards at the end of their turn, they die. Lastly, at any time during their turn, players can discard any card they do not desire. These discarded but not consumed cards are placed back into the scavenge pile at the bottom. Good Luck!
The novel revolves around survival. That is the characters’ only real struggle and we wanted to reflect that in a survival game. We decided against a game involving teamwork because, even though the man and his son work together, the world they live in is truly every man for himself. There are some examples of teamwork, but for the most part, the man and his son are alone and helpless. When creating items we kept in mind the value of each. For example, there is only one gun in the entire deck. In the novel, a gun was considered the most valuable thing one could find. There are also only two flare guns for the same reason. The bow and arrow however, are more common in the deck as they can be easily created in the novel. We also used similar reasoning when assigning dice quantities to each weapon. We gave the gun four dice as it is the most powerful weapon one could possess. It can only be used with a bullet, so we decided to keep the two separate and rare. A bow and arrow has similar characteristics to a gun but less powerful and less accurate. Therefore, we gave it three dice. The flare gun cannot kill as efficiently as the previous two weapons, but possesses the range that a knife does not. We gave it two dice. Lastly, the knife is the weakest weapon and we it allotted one dice. Warm and food are also huge factors in the novel’s characters’ survival and we implement this into the game as well. Players die without food or clothing so maintaining the two are important in the game, as well as in the book. We added stealing and the related game mechanics into the game to mirror the instances in the book where the characters were stolen from. While the game is played with a closed hand, players that steal from others can inspect their victim’s hand and choose a card. In the book, the characters are stolen from when they were unable to protect their belongings and the thief had the chance to inspect their stores. Finally, each turn players scavenge a card. At every opportunity, the characters scavenged what they could to survive, and so we decided that every turn players scavenge a card. In addition, a cart was added to echo the cart the characters used to carry more item than usual. There are some aspects that we added to make the game playable. Sleeping was added to give players a way to preserve their life and remain longer in the game. There are disadvantages to sleeping, so players are forced to either sleep or attack. The competitive aspect was also added. There is some competition in the novel but it is rare. The competition our game creates is to make the game more enjoyable and engaging. The book was slow and dull at some points and we did not want to make a game as such.
The Road
Fire and Ice
Our board game consists of moral choices that not only affect one group but all groups involved in the game. The objective of, Fire and Ice, is to make it to the coast at the same time as the other team. We felt that since the coast was the man and the boy’s only goal in The Road that it would be fitting to make it the end of the game. There are two paths that lead to the coast. The longer (less difficult) road represents the road that the man and the boy took, and the shorter (more treacherous) path represents the forest that’s beside the road. Within the game two groups work together in order to reach the end at the same time. Throughout the book, the boy and the man are on their own and don’t really work with other people in order to survive but the boy constantly thinks about other people and how they are being affected by the world they live in. The boy has compassion for others and always wants to help even when they have barely anything to offer such as when they ran into Ely or when they returned the one handed man’s clothes after they took them away. Along with the man and the boy thinking about how their choices would influence one another throughout the book such as whether to “take a look” in a house or to camp out a night. Without them thinking about each other they would have ended up pushing each other away making it harder to survive. We wanted to add the compassion and teamwork element to the board game by adding two teams that must work together to reach a common goal but subsequently end up being the same group since they reach the coast at the same time. It makes the moral choices from the demon cards harder to make since it will be influencing both groups.
Each group gets camp cards and supply cards. Camp cards allow them to lose a turn in order to help teams reach the end at the same time. Supply cards are enough food, water, ammunition, etc for one person to survive the game, without a supply card the person evidently dies. In the book supplies is the most important thing for their survival which is why we added the supply card aspect to the game. It makes the moral decisions that they will encounter harder if it involves losing a card, possibly killing a member or taking on another person which means you would need a supply card in order to take care of them. Throughout the game each turn a group will roll a dice in order to decide which card they will have to work with, demon cards or angel cards. Demon cards deal with hard moral choices that people would run into while living in an apocalyptic era. These choices range from bad weather taking away a supply card to finding a child and having to make the decision to either take the child or not with the possibility of going back two spaces if you don’t, and losing a supply card if you do. Along with choices that can affect the other team such as pawning off a child onto them or taking a supply card from them. The team with these decisions would have to think about how their decisions would influence the other team and themselves bringing up the compassion element from the book along with the fact that within this kind of apocalyptic environment moral decisions are very important to survival. The boy and the man run into these decisions very often throughout the book where these choices that they make can influence the rest of their journey. Angel cards deal with the random strokes of luck that the man and the boy have run into such as finding a bunker or finding a tarp. Things that help with survival and make life just a little easier. Angel cards are hard to roll since you must roll a seven in order to earn them. You have the chance to earn supply cards easily or to move forward faster through out the game. There is also an opportunity to get both cards at the same time by rolling doubles. The man and the boy run into strokes of luck by getting supplies or finding a safe space but at the same time they have a hard moral choices to make such as staying the bunker. The man and the boy found a bunker which gave them enough supplies to survive for months but they had to decide how long to stay or wether to stay at all. In this kind of environment luck and choices go hand and hand so we wanted to make sure we included that aspect into our game.
Getting Started
Based on age. The oldest have to make the choice for the youngest. Do they want them to take the harder path with less choices compared to the easier path with more choices.
Start off with a 100% then throughout the game things are taken off of it.
Objective: Both teams reach the coast at the same time.
Items in Box:
Two dice
Timer
The board game
Angel cards
Demon cards
Supply cards
Camp cards
Rules:
2 or more people should play. It is okay to have an odd number of team members.
When playing with more than 2 split into teams based on your choice
To decide your path you roll the dice.
Larger number gets longer path, other group gets shorter path
Each group gets a set of cards
Supply cards: each group gets 1 card per person, 1 additional card for group use only
Supply cards contain supplies such as guns, food, water, clothing, tarp, etc.
You must have the same number of supply cards as people in the group when you start. Throughout the camp you may earn or lose some.
Group with longer path gets 1 camp card
Group with shorter path gets 2 camp cards
Camp cards give you the opportunity to camp out at night forfeiting a turn
Each turn you roll the dice, for each choice you have 5 seconds to answer
7: Angel card
Demon Card everything else
Go back and forth till both of you reach the coast at the same time
You win by both teams surviving and reaching the coast at the same time
You lose by killing the other team or dying
Dying: No more supply cards after 4 turns
Not reaching the coast at the same time
The Road --- Creative Project
Title: Carry the Fire
Player(s) should be metaphorically “carrying the fire.” The idea is to protect and keep your fire throughout the game and stay alive.
The Board
Approximately a 4 by 3 foot board. Two inch squares that extend around the board to form a swirly path. The beginning point is titled “Darkness” and the end point is titled “The End of the Road.” Every few spaces reads “Draw Card.”
Gameplay
To start, each player is given 20 tokens. 10 of these tokens are survival tokens and the other 10 are fire tokens, the former representing overall player health and the latter representing the player’s overall compassion “level.” For each players’ turn, a die is cast and the player must move a corresponding amount of spaces along the board. If the player lands on a “Draw Card” space on the board, the player must draw from a stack of “Chance” cards and read their card out loud. Chance cards throw the player into a situation that they are out of control of and will ask them to either give up or collect one of the two categories of tokens (they typically concede or rescind 2 to 3 tokens). Additionally, players may opt to go down certain routes on the board to the “Scenario” locations, where they must draw a card from a separate stack of cards. The cards will present various scenarios, most of which will instruct the player between surrendering a certain amount of one type of token in exchange for the other. This way, strategy is introduced into the game. If a player loses all their survival tokens, they’re out of the game and pronounced dead. However, the goal is to reach The End of the Road with fire token still intact, and the player with the most fire tokens by the end of the path is the winner.
Explanation
Our game combines player strategy with an inevitable construct of luck, or lack thereof. In the book, the father and the boy face a series of unfortunate events that out of their control, such as rainstorms and earthquakes. Many of our scenarios reflect this randomness. However, one of the underlying conflicts worked into the novel is the boy’s unwavering compassion for life versus the father’s self-centered will to survive, and how both dispositions simultaneously interfere and cooperate with certain aspects of the human identity. In an attempt to recreate this conflict, we have made it so that the goal of the game is to collect fire tokens, but all fire tokens will be null and void should someone lose all their survival tokens.
Often in the book, the man and the boy must together come to a consensus of what the right thing to do is. When their cart is stolen, for example, they track the thief down and the father nearly shoots him, but the boy implores him to let it go. When they come across a feeble old man, the father wants to play it safe and show him no attention, but the boy wants to help him. In scenes like these, McCarthy means to demonstrate two divergent conditions of humans: kindness and selfishness. In such a desolate and dead world, decisions like these could mean life and death, and we made the game based on that premise. Accordingly, there are many scenarios that mirror real events in the book. Of course the Fire tokens are a direct reference to the “carrying the fire” motif that most notably appears in the novel at the end, when the man, dying, expresses his faith in his son’s ability to make a brighter world, even in the darkest of circumstances. In this sense, the boy’s compassion ideals triumph over everything in The Road as the most important saving factor. This was our reason for making the collection of Fire tokens the objective for the game; we want to make the statement that value of goodness in the world will always outweigh the benefits of selfishness. We imagine that while playing, players will have an earnest conversation about personal morals and how they affect our world.
Memory Reconstuction
The bell rings, a mob of kids filled the hallways every one of them stopping at their lockers. “Aye Johnny what are you about to do?” an unfamiliar voice said in the distance. I look began looking around but I can’t determine where it came from so I just put on my jacket and walked out the door. I was walking over to the bus stop to head home. Once I got home no one was there, I tried calling my mom, and dad but no answer each and every time. This left me confused they normally are always here before I get out of school. Then my grandma pulls up and tells me to pack my things and that I had to come with her. She says “Your mother and father, left all of us.”
I was confused by this I replied, immediately thinking the absolute worst,
“What do you mean?!!”
“ I mean that they probably are not coming back”
“ Where are they?”
“None of us know. They just left us a messages saying that you would be left in the house. Alone.”
It couldn’t be true. Why would they leave me behind like that? Do they just not care about me? Why!!?
The sound of the water running while I look at myself in the steamy foggy mirror. “I hate going back to that time.”, I said to myself. My phone begins to ring, “Hello, this is Jonny, CEO of Z-Star, How can I help?”
“ Boss, we have another orphan.”
“Ok, make sure you take care of them”
I love that I’m able to make sure no one will ever feel the same pain that I did, I will make sure to give them the love and care they deserve. When my parents abandoned me, and I was forced to live with my grandma, it caused me great pain. I wanted to give up on life at that time but instead of ending it all, I managed to make it my motivation to do better.
Big Sean – One Man Can Change the World Lyrics | Genius Lyrics
Bits and Pieces: Reconstruction of Memory: Bea Gerber FINAL
There were pieces everywhere. Sharp, shattered, sparkling. The music masked the clatter, but only long enough to shield younger eyes. Sometimes it’s better to be left in the dark. The room filled in and flowed out, empty buckets, clanking trash bags, and soaked rags trickling with them. I am cold, but it was summer, and I had been warm only seconds before.
My happiness drained through my toes. The shouting was loud but I wasn’t listening, there were too many busy faces and furrowed brows to distract me.
I can’t believe he went straight through it. Destroyed the glass that separates children from adults, shattering a sense of innocence, bridging the gap. A conflicted frame of staggered edges. I heard, but I couldn’t see him. I searched for his tangled blonde mop in the crowd but he had already disappeared. The others whizzed around. Suds flew. Towels rolled. Bodies on autopilot. An organized frenzy. I couldn’t control the mess. It was going to last longer than the blood. My skin crawled.
He was rescued. Removed and absorbed by the bustling herd. No longer at stake. We picked his pieces off the floor, shard by shard, drip by drip. We removed the evidence of destruction, but a heaviness lingered on my chest. I hated that he put me in danger.
My time there had been long and short. Summers don’t last forever but they happen every year. Each time it feels like we never left our bubble of independence and responsibility. Our own heated snow globe full of children, held delicately in our palms. But his hand broke the glass. He shook too hard. Disturbed the comfortably settled dust. We let him. So we fixed it. Patched his hand and the door. Closed the young eyes. Shielded him by shielding ourselves. Everyone is affected by weak links.
Plastic protected my bitten fingers from the glass but I was still bare. At mercy of another; powerless to change his mistakes. The bass still bumped, matching my heart beat. I had to walk away. Find comfort in less danger, away from the shards, away from the glares. I wanted to be warm again. But that was too much to ask. I wasn’t protected anymore. But that is life. The fog lifts eventually. We have to grow up. If you don’t prepare for it, you will be left cold, shivering. It took too long for me to see this. Took shards covering the floor where children played. They would never know. They didn’t have to know. We glued their snow globe back together with our stories. We kept them warm.
Reconstruction of a Memory - Matt Reed
I stood at the window, poking my head out. Clueless as to the horrors about to take place. Observing the environment around my house. Looking up and down. I locked the door, slowly dragging my body up the stairs. I made my way into my bed and kissed my wife on the cheek. She slept so soundly, like a kitten. I laid my head down on the pillow.
I woke up and yawned. I could feel my heavy bladder. I walked down the dark hallway. What was that weird smell? Leaky pipe? Spilled hairspray? It had a strong metallic scent. I walked into the bathroom and struggled to flip the light switch on, and took a piss. I approached the sink and scrubbed my hands. What was that smell? Was it me? I squeezed out more soap and scrubbed harder just to be sure, applying some deodorant as well. I hurried back to my bed and laid down. Why am I all wet? My pants were drenched with something, the smell had also gotten a lot stronger now. I got up from my bed and turned on my lamp.
I turned around and dropped to my knees. The tears instantly came running down my face. My wife. MY WIFE. I grabbed her hand, it was covered in blood. Everything was covered in blood. I stood up and looked for my phone. Where did I put my god damn phone? I ran down the steps and to the kitchen. Sweat was dripping down from every part of my body. I tried to pick up the landline, but I couldn’t grasp it. What was that noise? Sirens? I ran to the window. Red and blue violently bled into my kitchen, blinding me before I even opened the curtain. I put my eye up to the fabric and peeked through a small opening. Police surrounded my home. Who called the police? I took a deep breath and walked out the door. The men saw the blood on me, pointing their firearms at me in response. They approached me as I yelled. “ I didn’t do it”.
They wrapped the cold cuffs around my wrist as shock ran down my body. I was shoved in the back of the police car.
As I sit in this dark cell, I dread that night. Every second of it, but I can’t forget it. I’m alone and as clueless as I was when this all started.
Memory Reconstruction
I blink, hard, and begin to remember.
They had told us to get ready, this could take a while. Our eyes held shut with old bandanas that smelled like sweat, we gripped each others hands and sat on the cold and dusty concrete as the triangle was constructed around us. Reilly and Corinne likely stood back, clipboards in one hand water bottles in the other, smiling, and informed us of our challenge. We could only imagine what she was doing from the sounds of their voices, ambiguous scuffling, and giggling. We were in the triangle, we could get up and feel around. Plastic chairs, wooden beams, tape, and gaps. We had to get out somehow, but we couldn’t go over, or under, or break through it, given only the reassurance that we could ask them for things we might need.
My socks glared with a taunting mantra: “You’ve got this!” I was reminded of that after kicking off my shoes and was grateful for my blindfold. My first thought was to ask for a spoon, as if the feeble structure were a prison I needed to dig out of. They amusedly asked if that was really what I needed. It wasn’t; I couldn’t picture anything that could get me out. It was hard to even reconstruct my immediate surroundings with my eyes shut that tight. I felt dizzy. I became reliant on the comfort of holding my fellow inmate Virginia's hand and knowing we were in this together. The blindfold bound my eyes shut both painfully and blissfully as I drifted between frustrating confusion and appreciation for this moment we spent together.
We. The shift from we to I was sudden. They incessantly asked “What do you need?” and although I have no idea why, when my counterpart mumbled, “a giant...” we felt it together. Corinne threw an orange peel at me and and we, disoriented, laughed. About an hour in, Reilly stepped in and held our hands and we could hear her crying softly, feeling with us. But sometime, when our bodies were not linked in an embrace nor even our hands holding tight to each other, I felt her go. I called for her and after a couple sinking moments it was revealed, coldly, “Virginia has left the triangle.” I fell to the ground, physically and mentally exhausted, and utterly alone and in the dark. How?
The ceaseless “What do you need” continued, but now with a sense of urgency. They were worried about me. Chairs were stepped over, arms were wrapped around my figure on the ground, tears were shed, mine and theirs. I didn’t know what would get me out, but I knew I couldn't figure it out alone. Reluctantly I found the words: “I need help,” afraid to disappoint them with this weakness. I felt a tugging behind my head. The blindfold fell away and light flooded to reveal Corinne’s smiling face and the strained teary eyes of all. Tears ran down my cheeks, now free from their bind.
Reconstruction Memory // Sweating out the Fever
A sudden jerk of my body results in a near full trash can. I lay back down engulfed in pillows and blankets, trapped under an immovable force. After a few moments of suffrage, I become fed up with the boiling of my body. I twist and roll but the boa constrictors refuse to letup. Too weak to call out, I assume the house is empty. The faint hall light illuminates a world light years away. My head sinks back into the ground.
A cold hand placed on my forehead sends my head into a downwards spiral. I arise to a serengeti, the mellow breeze follows the commands, the grass, revealing a group of men. They’re all circled around a crackling beast. All of the sudden they begin to fling their sticks at the creature, only stoking it to lash out directly at them, swallowing them whole. I turn away from the suffering men but I’m forced to stay.
In the blink of an eye I find myself in a world of color, the room I’m in was drowned in color. The walls appear to be comprised of granny smith apples, the floor made of oranges and finally a sky blue ceiling to pull it all together. This feels much more like I’m awake but some surreal feeling doesn't resonate quite right. The world begins to spin and I begin to overheat, I unwillingly disappear once again. My head throbs me into another world. Icy water flowed down my throat, it begins to freeze my body from the inside out. My mind refuses to thaw and I’m left looking at the face of a giant pillow. The darkness begins to swirl and blotches begin to turn to light. The instant rattling of a train along it’s tracks is heard until I’m engulfed in light. I lay in silence until I once again fall back into a swirling sleep.
Authors Note:
In my piece I draw great influence from Ken Kesey and much less than Atwood. Much like Kesey my novel is surreal and is a trip. Although a lot of my novel is very psychedelic it has real life translations much like Ken Kesey's. Kesey uses a lot of descriptive language in order to convey events in the book. Like Chief, my character is not mentally stable so he describes what he sees. For example when the boa constrictors are wrapped around me, it actually translates to blankets draped over me. Kesey's character in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest", Chief Bromden doesn't have a sense of time. My character doesn't have a sense either.
The little I do derive from Atwood is her ability to use Offred as a platform to convey facts in the novel without anyone down right saying it. Like when my characters body is freezing, it's actually the character drinking cold water from the sink.
College English Colin Memory Project
After spending a few hours at my desk, my eyes drifted to the wall of my cubicle and my mind drifted elsewhere. I was twenty-eight years old, and I was sitting up in the captain’s quarters of my very own freighter. I might have even put my feet on the desk and my hands on the back of my head, however, I refuse to believe that I could have been that carefree in such a high risk job. I looked up and saw Miami, the city that made me the man I am today, I seem to remember always grinning whenever the great city came into view after seeing nothing but ocean for days. But my smugness soon turned to annoyance as I saw the US Coast Guard approach. Having done this job for seven years, this was far from my first encounter with the boys in blue. As their speedboats encircled my freighter, I sighed as I walked down to greet the officers. They boarded and scattered throughout the boat. I walked down to greet the head officer. I shook his hand and he went into his usual spiel “Hi I am here on behalf of the US Coast guard and I am here to conduct a mandatory search of your vessel for any unregulated commodities.” I rolled my eyes as he went on with his speech “unfortunately, recently, we have been unable to find the source of the influx of arms, so we will have to inspect the contents of your shipping containers.” My heart suddenly beat 10 times faster, there was no way that I could have possibly anticipated this.”What sort of products are you shipping?” he asked. “Farming equipment,” I lied. He opened one container and found a collection of tractors, hoses and pipes. I breathed, but immediately tensed up when he approached the second. He opened it, to reveal a few barrels of grain and some seeding machinery. He looked at the third shipping container which I knew was full of AR-15 rifles, and I could barely breathe. It was a miracle that he didn’t notice my shaking knees and sweat drenched forehead. But then, he looked back at me and said “you’re good to go!” All of the tension suddenly left my body and I looked back at my men and smiled. I should be grateful now that I don’t have to live in fear of the law, now that I live a normal life with a nine to five desk job. I should be grateful that I never had to feel so much tension in my daily life. Yet I can’t say that I feel any remorse for this memory. In fact, I honestly miss the moments when I feared for my life. Because I have not felt a single strong emotion since I got my new job. Though maybe I should be grateful? Boredom is preferable to the slammer.
Reconstruction Of Memory - Boubou Magassa
I woke up in a room with blaring lights and the pungent smell of medicine. There is a short old man with white hair and a coat to match. He tells me that he is a doctor and that I was brought in by one of the townsmen. I look to my side and notice that my right arm is missing. The memories came flooding back into my mind. Why does it hurt? The doctor then asks what happened to me.
I was young and wanted to write a book about a lonely mountain man. To gain inspiration I had moved into a cabin on a snowy mountain. I remember vividly the day of the incident. Why does it hurt? It was a regular day, just like all the other days. I had just left the town with some groceries. The path home was a treacherous one, cold and punishing as the snowflakes cut my face, and my visibility was cut down to a mere 5 meters. I only see a maze of trees ahead. Except for one tree, this tree was somewhat different. It was shorter and wider than the others. I wanted to examine it more for my book. I left the trail and headed towards this mysterious tree. When I finally got close enough to get a good look, it was no longer a tree but a bear towering over me. It let out a mighty roar. A chill ran down my spine as I was frozen in fear. I had then put my arms up to my face and felt a sharp pain as the bear’s jagged and unkempt teeth entered my flesh. All I can remember was the pain in my right arm. Why does it hurt? I had almost given up as my vision went blurry, I then remembered my pocket knife. I had grasped it and lunged the blade into the bears right eye. As the bear was stunned I had ran in any direction as long as I was running. I had ran for a couple miles. My movements grew sluggish and the feeling in my right arm had disappeared. I had peered overed, it was all mangled and didn’t resemble an arm anymore. My eyes could no longer stay open, my eyes wanted to rest, my eyes wanted to drift. I fell onto the snowy ground as my body began to freeze. I took one last look and saw someone approaching and tell my eyes it’s okay to rest.
Author’s Note
This is an original piece, I was never been attacked by a bear. I was inspired to emulate the repetitive language that Atwood had used. The repetition had allowed for a more poetic approach. I also incorporated the sudden change from present to memory.
Reconstruction of Memory // The Green Sun
We’re driving up a narrow street, our little Volkswagen Jetta slows down, the sounds of sand and rocks grinding between the wheels and the pavement. Though I already noticed the car coming to a halt, the place we stopped just felt off. It was a normal street, no stores between apartments, just houses.
“Guess where we are!?”, Mom glances at me quickly through the rear view while reversing the vehicle.
“No mom, I thought you were driving towards that old high school you used to go to?”, I say this not knowing it’s a lie. I know that house too well. It was the apartment that my mom and dad used to live in. I remember now why I feel so uneasy, it’s where I saw that thing.
I can remember the little side room that was on the other side hall from my parents, in that room was a crib on the center wall where I would sleep soundly but I was awake this time, that’s my room. It’s funny trying to stretch a scene that probably took 6 seconds into one that seems like 30 looking back at it fifteen years later, I close my eyes and open them to end up in that same crib.
I’m a baby now, turning my head must feel like moving on anesthetics and with the warm and protective green of the walls only makes my time awake more limited, the room has one little window that covered, the crack between the drape shows me it must be early morning. Even as a baby I could tell some things were up with the light this morning because I saw the sun. No, not a real sun but a small green one, the green sun. It’s glow was respectable, only illuminating within a couple of inches from its body. It’s weird, it has a face, almost sinister in its warm smile but oddly making me sleepier. Its revolves, just like the sun would and its face becomes hidden from me once more and as the face disappears completely, so does its body, sinking back into the ceiling of my room and I sink back into a slumber.
I wake, still with the same amount of question about that object I saw all those years ago. I can’t help but wonder weather or not it was real, I used to think it was my guardian angel, my zodiac of sorts but now driving off I’m almost certain it was best to forget again.
Reconstruction Memory // That Warm Smile
My face felt blushed, overwhelmed. My visions were blurry, not because I was nauseous and afraid, it was because it was harder for me to see through the thin film of water. There was a warm hand on my back, rubbing against my spine. It was harder for me to breathe.
“It’s okay. This is almost over. Come here, I wanna hug you.”
“Thanks, I really need this,” I told Jessica, as I wrapped my arms around and squeezed her close.
As I stood, the ground became colder and malevolent that it sent chills down my spine. Then comes a figure walking towards me.
Bubbles, the code name I used for him. Light, full of joy, yet delicate. So fragile that it makes me sad to see him fade away. He walked to me with a smile, the same smile that I haven’t seen in so long.
We were together hanging out by a riverfront. It was cold that day, the middle of winter. It was also our first time doing something together. As we were both nervous walking with one another, he broke the atmosphere of tension with small talk. Small conversations turned into discussions. We talked all day about life in general, favorite foods, school drama, best music, and more. It felt endless. I didn’t feel as cold anymore. The sun was setting and created Golden Hour. The hour that sprayed the sky with bright yellow before it melts into deep red of the sun. “Hey, let’s get something warm to drink before we leave,” said Bubbles. There it is again, another smile. Warm and comfortable in my heart but I couldn’t keep eye contact with him. It was that friendship that held me up to this day.
“I’m fine. Thank you for checking in on me.” I said as I looked over Jessica’s shoulder remained hugging.
He shakes his head. “No worries”. It was the smile he gave that countered the daunting emotions I was going through. To be honest, the connection of friendship felt like a cure. A cure that helped my emotions become faded.
Artist Statement: “That Warm Smile” was inspired by a deep thought of something simple to someone but is such a huge deal to me personally. Atwood’s style of writing helped me build a short essay through other words and context that supported a stronger memory. The characters in both novels thought deeply into a memory but sorted out the details. Kesey’s style of writing also springed out what is memory and how we can be more descriptive with a memory that can be hard to remember.
"Run" Reconstruction of a Memory- Sean Johnson
I wrote from my own personal memory, the primary source if you will. When it comes to the adaptations of my words I can attribute them to Margaret Atwood and her novel the handmaid’s tale. It always intrigued me how the author structured her words and emphasized specifics that you wouldn’t look into. I wanted to make a text that symbolized this sophistication and art when it came to the words in my recreation. I feel like this piece was a personal success because I feel that I accomplished my goal when it came to copying her work, As well as writing in her image.
Reconstruction of Memory: Bea Gerber
There were pieces everywhere. Sharp, shattered, sparkling. The music masked the clatter, but only long enough to shield younger eyes. Some things take time to understand. The room filled in and flowed out, buckets, bags, and rags trickling with them. I am cold, but it was summer, and I had been warm only seconds before.
My happiness drained through my toes. The shouting was loud but I wasn’t listening, there were too many busy faces and furrowed brows to distract me.
He went straight through it, I heard, but I couldn’t see him. I searched for his tangled blonde mop but he had already disappeared. They whizzed around. Suds flew. Towels rolled. Bodies on autopilot. An organized frenzy. I couldn’t control the mess. It was going to last longer than the blood. My skin crawled.
He was rescued. Removed and absorbed. No longer at stake. We picked his pieces off the floor. Removed the evidence. We rescued him from second death but we were still in danger. I hated that he put me in danger.
My time there had been long and short. Summers don’t last forever but they happen every year. Each time it feels like we never left our bubble in the woods. Our own heated snow globe. But his hand broke the glass. He shook too hard. Disturbed the comfortably settled dust. We let him. So we fixed it. Patched his hand and the door. Closed the young eyes. Shielded him by shielding ourselves. Everyone is affected by weak links.
Plastic protected my bitten fingers from the glass but I was still bare. At mercy of another; powerless to change his mistakes. The bass still bumped, matching my heart beat. I had to walk away. Find comfort in less danger, away from the shards, away from the glares. I wanted to be warm again. But that was too much to ask.
The chaos chilled me no matter how many layers I put on. I wasn’t protected anymore. But that is life. The fog lifts on everything eventually. If you don’t prepare for the worst, you will be left cold, shivering. It took too long for me to see this. Took shards covering the floor where children played. They would never know. They didn’t have to know. We glued their snow globe back together with our stories. We kept them warm.
The Room (Lucien Hearn - Memory Reconstruction)
Reconstruction of Memory - Leah Bradstreet
This passage came from one of the short memories written in the class exercise. Originally, the memory was from a specific episode. However, I ended up adapting it and simplifying the idea into a simple unnamed episode. Mr. Brown is meant to symbolize a dramatized version of loneliness. He finds solace in this TV series where the characters make jokes and live carefree lives. He sees this as what he wants in life, and it makes him smile. When the characters are in his ears, he does not feel so alone.
Memory Reconstruction - Sean DeSilva
Tyreek's Short Story
Ring of Fire
Cold hospital air hit my nose as I sniffled, I stared at the hospital bed in front of me, holding my dad’s hand. I thought back to all of the time I had spent with him, sitting with my mom in the small apartment we lived in, awaiting my father’s arrival home from work. My mom walked around, humming to herself and cleaning spots off of the countertops. That’s when a key hit the lock, turned, and the door opened. “Daddy!” I yelled, hopping off of the couch to run into my uniformed father’s outstretched arms. He picked me up and squeezed me tight, that’s when I assume that my mom walked over and kissed him on the cheek, asking him how his day was. That’s what she normally did at least, but it slips my mind if she did it that day.
He then put me down, walking over to the cd player that sat in the corner of the living room. Ring of Fire, by Johnny Cash started playing, followed shortly by my father’s raspy voice singing along. He then picked me up and held me in his arms. We danced around the living room of the small apartment we lived in, while my mom sat and watched, smiling from ear to ear.
I can’t remember how long we danced for, if it was just that song or more to come. I can remember though, how the smell of cigarettes radiated off of his clothing when you got close enough. That’s when the beeping of the hospital monitor and my dad’s deep coughing pulled me out of my daydream. He half smiled, the most he was able to do. I held tears back as I smiled back, squeezing his hand.
Reconstruction of Memory - Ariana Flores
Author’s Note:
In this piece, I specifically chose to blur the lines between the past and the present, so that the repetition of phrases had more impact. Alexander Chee’s advice and metaphors, such as the monster in the corner of his mind, were the main inspiration for my piece. I incorporated both a great fear of mine (forgetting) and one of the most important memories of mine that I can remember from my early childhood. A stylistic choice Atwood incorporated was making one aspect of Offreds’ memory super clear and the rest a bit fuzzy. I tried to do my best to emulate this with the phrase about gripping my dad’s jeans really tight because I was so afraid. I accompanied this piece with Adeline by Alt J, which encapsulates the wonder and the somber tone of this piece.
"Neruda"
In you, everything sank. This phrase pops into my head, from an English class long past, or at least that’s how long it feels. We spent weeks upon weeks investigating every couplet, scrutinizing every stanza. I hated it. I hated talking about “author’s intent”. Why did Pablo Neruda repeat this line? Why was it a motif? Who gives a shit? In you, everything sank. I think about you and I wish I didn’t. The kid who sat next to me would always fall asleep. I couldn’t blame him. It was an easy escape. Why did I ever bother staying awake? His light snore invades my thoughts, of Neruda, of the teacher’s droning. It’s there, gently, always reminding me that there’s another way out.
In you, everything sank.
Stocks pop into my head. Our economics teacher was always right after English. He taught us all about the stock market that year. We even invested a little bit ourselves. I heard but didn’t listen. In you, everything sank. Science was next. We would skip class together, you and I. We’d sit in the stairwell and talk. Or we wouldn’t. But we always understood.
In you, everything sank. It happened on a Sunday. The Lord’s day. Funny, because we had always hated religion. I like to imagine you did it to spite God. I didn’t find out until Tuesday: you weren’t in the stairwell. They called me to the office. Your mom broke the news. In you, everything sank. On a whim today, I visit the bridge. The cold wind whips my hair, the seagulls below call, like sirens. And I, too, am sinking.
For this memory, my idea was to create not a single memory, but a series of smaller memories. This was inspired, to some extent, by Ken Kesey’s style of writing memories - a series of shorter thoughts rather than one larger one. I chose to kind of take the reader through a school day through memories to some extent. It creates a little more cohesion, which I believe is necessary in a story like this. To transition, I used the phrase: “In you, everything sank”, pulled from Pablo Neruda's Song of Despair, which was a big inspiration for the story overall: dreary, depressing, defeatist. It was the anchor that my story was based around, and inevitably the note it ends on.
Reconstruction of Memory - Meymey Seng
Creative Writing
In the dentist office I couldn’t seem to get my mind off the fact that I will be removing my braces. I was nervous because of all the stories I had heard and experiences from my friends. It was a strange feeling because I was afraid, but I also felt relief. I had been waiting on this moment for so long. At first, I wanted braces desperately; I thought they were appealing because of the different colors, they were like jewelry for your teeth. I didn’t need braces, I wasn't qualified to get them because the dentist said my teeth were fine and straight. When I first got them, I couldn't eat, drink, or sleep for a week. Braces were the most painful thing in the world. We went on vacation the day after I had them done. I couldn’t enjoy anything. Later on, it got better and I thought I would start to like them, but I didn’t. Food always gets stuck in your teeth when you have braces, which is disgusting. As much as you brush your teeth, they never seem to be clean. Your breath somehow never stays fresh and it's the most annoying thing in the world. Thinking about that pain of getting them on, I didn’t want to feel it again. This time, it would be twice as bad. I kind of felt like leaving the office. It was almost my turn. I’ve been afraid of the dentist ever since the first time I ever took my tooth out, I was four going on five. My mom told me I had to go to the dentist to remove the tooth. In my head there was no way I was going to the dentist. It was a late night and my mom was home with friends. I went into the bathroom twisted my tooth out and finally got rid of it, I came out proud to show my mom and everyone else. And for that I overcame my fear of taking out my teeth. I guess removing my braces wouldn't be so bad afterall, I could get them removed and get it over with.
Authors note:
In my writing I chose to emulate Margaret Atwood's style of writing because she uses symbolism to represent what is going on, whereas Ken Kesey uses dialogue. For my writing piece I think Margaret Atwood's style fit best with what I was trying to do with my writing. I used a lot of symbolism to emphasize my emotions as Atwood did in the handmaid's tale. I also visited many similar memories to connect them all to one main point of overcoming my fear. I feel as though Atwood does a great job of that and I was inspired to use more of her skills in this writing for that reason.