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. 

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.

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.

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.

My elbow lied on the armrest, with my jaw in my hand. As I glared out of the window, I let my eyelids float along my eyes. I felt tired, but I couldn’t go to sleep because the bus was too cold, so I sat in silence and watched my reflection cascade over the mountaintops. When did I get so old? It feels like just yesterday I was living with those I used to call my family. My family and I were kinda like a beat-up car. It’s funny now, but we were so beat up that we were constantly in need of repairs. Everytime the mechanic fixed us there was always something else, we were always in need of an oil change.

This one time, I had to be about 15 and I did not want to live with my parents anymore. I hated it. Living with them felt like living alone because there was no support.

“I’m hungry,” I said to my mom who was tucked away on the living room couch.

“Well go find something to eat then” she said casually, as if we had food in the house to sift through.

“We only have these arbitrary ingredients, I can’t make anything out of these.” I responded, hoping that she’d throw me a bone and feed me.

“Well we have bread, and a toaster. So figure something out.” This was my mom at her most helpful. I looked at her from our tiny kitchen and I saw that she’s sank into the couch even further than she has before, she’s not getting up. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her get up from that couch before.

“We don’t have anymore bread, I ate it all. You’ve been telling me that for the past three days.” Then she said something along the lines of, “Well, look for something else then. You need to learn independence, start feedin’ yourself. I’m not gonna be here all the time, start lookin out for yourself,” she continued.  “‘Cause at the end of the day it’s kill or be killed.” She answered.