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6. Beginnings and Endings

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  1. 6. Beginnings and Endings

  2. Openings and Endings Similarities: • The monster is present in both • The time 12.07 is referred to both times • His mum is referred to both times • The idea of holding on is repeated Contrasts: • Conor is alone at the beginning; he is with his mum at the end • He is holding on at the beginning; he is letting go at the end • The nightmare has gone

  3. Verbless Sentences The monster showed up just after midnight. As they do. Conor was awake when it came. He’d had a nightmare. Well, not a nightmare. The nightmare. The one he’d been having a lot lately. The one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming. The one with the hands slipping from his grasp, no matter how hard he tried to hold on. The one that always ended with– “Go away,” Conor whispered into the darkness of his bedroom, trying to push the nightmare back, not let it follow him into the world of waking. “Go away now.” He glanced over at the clock his mum had put on his bedside table. 12.07. Seven minutes past midnight. Which was late for a school night, late for a Sunday, certainly. He’d told no one about the nightmare. Not his mum, obviously, but no one else either, not his dad in their fortnightly (or so) phone call, definitely not his grandma, and no one at school. Absolutely not.

  4. Verbless Sentences “I don’t want you to go,” he said, the tears dropping from his eyes, slowly at first, then spilling like a river. “I know, my love,” his mother said, in her heavy voice. “I know.” He could feel the monster, holding him up and letting him stand there. “I don’t want you to go,” he said again. And that was all he needed to say. He leaned forward onto her bed and put his arm around her. Holding her. He knew it would come, and soon, maybe even this 12.07. The moment she would slip from his grasp, no matter how tightly he held on. But not this moment, the monster whispered, still close. Not just yet. Conor held tightly onto his mother. And by doing so, he could finally let her go.

  5. The Island in Lord of the Flies The shore was fledged with palm trees. These stood or leaned or reclined against the light and their green feathers were a hundred feet up in the air. The ground beneath them was a bank covered with coarse grass, torn everywhere by the upheavals of fallen trees, scattered with decaying coconuts and palm saplings. Behind this was the darkness of the forest proper and the open space of the scar. Ralph stood, one hand against a grey trunk, and screwed up his eyes against the shimmering water. Out there, perhaps a mile away, the white surf flinked on a coral reef, and beyond that the open sea was dark blue. Within the irregular arc of coral the lagoon was still as a mountain lake—blue of all shades and shadowy green and purple. The beach between the palm terrace and the water was a thin stick, endless apparently, for to Ralph’s left the perspectives of palm and beach and water drew to a point at infinity; and always, almost visible, was the heat.

  6. The Island in Lord of the Flies The shore was fledged with palm trees. These stood or leaned or reclined against the light and their green feathers were a hundred feet up in the air. The ground beneath them was a bank covered with coarse grass, torn everywhere by the upheavals of fallen trees, scattered with decaying coconuts and palm saplings. Behind this was the darkness of the forest proper and the open space of the scar. Ralph stood, one hand against a grey trunk, and screwed up his eyes against the shimmering water. Out there, perhaps a mile away, the white surf flinked on a coral reef, and beyond that the open sea was dark blue. Within the irregular arc of coral the lagoon was still as a mountain lake—blue of all shades and shadowy green and purple. The beach between the palm terrace and the water was a thin stick, endless apparently, for to Ralph’s left the perspectives of palm and beach and water drew to a point at infinity; and always, almost visible, was the heat.

  7. A Found Poem - Island Fledged with palm trees, Green feathers a hundred feet up in the air, The upheavals of fallen trees, Decaying coconuts and palm saplings, The darkness of the forest, The scar. Shimmering water: White surf flinked on a coral reef, The lagoon as still as a mountain lake, Blue of all shades and shadowy green and purple. The darkness of the forest, The scar. And the heat, the heat.