A Game of Thrones Chapter Thirty-eight Free Essays

Tyrion You need eat?† Mord asked, glaring. He had a plate of oiled beans in a single thick, stub-fingered hand. Tyrion Lannister was famished, yet he would not let this animal see him recoil. We will compose a custom article test on A Game of Thrones Chapter Thirty-eight or on the other hand any comparable theme just for you Request Now â€Å"A leg of sheep would be pleasant,† he stated, from the store of dirtied straw toward the side of his cell. â€Å"Perhaps a dish of peas and onions, some new heated bread with margarine, and a flask of reflected on wine to wash it down. Or on the other hand brew, if that’s simpler. I make an effort not to be excessively particular.† â€Å"Is beans,† Mord said. â€Å"Here.† He held out the plate. Tyrion moaned. The turnkey was twenty stone of gross idiocy, with earthy colored spoiling teeth and little dim eyes. The left half of his face was smooth with scar where a hatchet had removed his ear and part of his cheek. He was as unsurprising as he was appalling, however Tyrion was ravenous. He came to up for the plate. Mord jolted it away, smiling. â€Å"Is here,† he stated, holding it out past Tyrion’s reach. The smaller person climbed solidly to his feet, each joint throbbing. â€Å"Must we play the equivalent fool’s game with each meal?† He made another snatch for the beans. Mord shambled in reverse, smiling through his spoiled teeth. â€Å"Is here, predominate man.† He held the plate out at arm’s length, over the edge where the cell finished and the sky started. â€Å"You not need eat? Here. Come take.† Tyrion’s arms were too short to even think about reaching the plate, and he was not going to step that near the edge. All it would take would be a snappy push of Mord’s overwhelming white stomach, and he would wind up a nauseating red splotch on the stones of Sky, as such a large number of different detainees of the Eyrie throughout the hundreds of years. â€Å"Come to think on it, I’m not eager after all,† he pronounced, withdrawing to the edge of his cell. Mord snorted and opened his thick fingers. The breeze took the plate, flipping it over as it fell. A bunch of beans splashed back at them as the food tumbled far out. The turnkey chuckled, his gut shaking like a bowl of pudding. Tyrion felt an ache of wrath. â€Å"You screwing child of a pox-ridden ass,† he spat. â€Å"I trust you bite the dust of a wicked flux.† For that, Mord gave him a kick, driving a steel-toed boot hard into Tyrion’s ribs in transit out. â€Å"I take it back!† he heaved as he multiplied over on the straw. â€Å"I’ll execute you myself, I swear it!† The overwhelming iron-bound entryway hammered shut. Tyrion heard the clatter of keys. For a little man, he had been reviled with a hazardously enormous mouth, he reflected as he slithered back to his side of what the Arryns absurdly called their cell. He clustered underneath the meager cover that was his solitary sheet material, gazing out at a blast of void blue sky and inaccessible mountains that appeared to go on perpetually, wishing he despite everything had the shadowskin shroud he’d won from Marillion at dice, after the vocalist had taken it off the body of that scoundrel boss. The skin had possessed a scent like blood and form, however it was warm and thick. Mord had taken it the second he looked at it. The breeze pulled at his cover with blasts sharp as claws. His cell was wretchedly little, in any event, for a smaller person. Not five feet away, where a divider should have been, the place a divider would be in a legitimate prison, the floor finished and the sky started. He had a lot of natural air and daylight, and the moon and stars around evening time, yet Tyrion would have exchanged it each of the a moment for the dankest, gloomiest pit in the entrails of the Casterly Rock. â€Å"You fly,† Mord had guaranteed him, when he’d pushed him into the cell. â€Å"Twenty day, thirty, fifty possibly. At that point you fly.† The Arryns kept the main cell in the domain where the detainees were free to escape voluntarily. That first day, in the wake of bracing up his fearlessness for a considerable length of time, Tyrion had lain level on his stomach and wriggled to the edge, to jab out his head and look down. Sky was 600 feet underneath, with nothing between except for void air. On the off chance that he extended his neck out the extent that it could go, he could see different cells on his right side and left or more him. He was a honey bee in a stone honeycomb, and somebody had detached his wings. It was cold in the cell, the breeze shouted night and day, and to top it all off, the floor inclined. Slightly, yet it was sufficient. He was reluctant to close his eyes, apprehensive that he may turn over in his precarious and wake in abrupt fear as he went sliding off the edge. Little miracle the sky cells made men distraught. Divine beings spare me, some past inhabitant had composed on the divider in something that looked dubiously like blood, the blue is calling. From the start Tyrion pondered who he’d been, and what had happened to him; later, he concluded that he would prefer not know. On the off chance that solitary he had quieted down . . . The pitiable kid had begun it, looking down on him from a seat of cut weirwood underneath the moon-and-bird of prey standards of House Arryn. Tyrion Lannister had been looked down on for his entire life, yet sometimes by rheumy-peered toward six-year-olds who expected to stuff fat pads under their cheeks to lift them to the tallness of a man. â€Å"Is he the awful man?† the kid had asked, gripping his doll. â€Å"He is,† the Lady Lysa had said from the lesser seat alongside him. She was all in blue, powdered and perfumed for the admirers who filled her court. â€Å"He’s so small,† the Lord of the Eyrie stated, laughing. â€Å"This is Tyrion the Imp, of House Lannister, who killed your father.† She raised her voice so it conveyed down the length of High Hall of the Eyrie, ringing off the milk-white dividers and the thin columns, so every man could hear it. â€Å"He slew the Hand of the King!† â€Å"Oh, did I murder him too?† Tyrion had stated, similar to a numb-skull. That would have been an excellent chance to have kept his mouth shut and his head bowed. He could see that now; seven hells, he had seen it at that point. The High Hall of the Arryns was long and stark, with a precluding chilliness to its dividers of blue-veined white marble, however the countenances around him had been colder by a wide margin. The intensity of Casterly Rock was far away, and there were no companions of the Lannisters in the Vale of Arryn. Accommodation and quiet would have been his best safeguards. In any case, Tyrion’s temperament had been unreasonably foul for sense. To his disgrace, he had vacillated during the last leg of their day-long move up to the Eyrie, his hindered legs incapable to take him any higher. Bronn had conveyed him the remainder of the way, and the embarrassment poured oil on the blazes of his outrage. â€Å"It would appear I’ve been a bustling little fellow,† he said with severe mockery. â€Å"I wonder when I found an opportunity to do such an excess of killing and murdering.† He should have recollected who he was managing. Lysa Arryn and her half-rational weakling child had not been known at court for their affection for mind, particularly when it was aimed at them. â€Å"Imp,† Lysa said icily, â€Å"you will monitor that deriding tongue of yours and address my child respectfully, or I guarantee you will have cause to think twice about it. Recall where you are. This is the Eyrie, and these are knights of the Vale you see around you, genuine men who adored Jon Arryn well. All of them would bite the dust for me.† â€Å"Lady Arryn, should any mischief come to me, my sibling Jaime will be satisfied to see that they do.† Even as he spat out the words, Tyrion realized they were imprudence. â€Å"Can you fly, my ruler of Lannister?† Lady Lysa inquired. â€Å"Does a midget have wings? If not, you would be more astute to swallow the following danger that comes to mind.† â€Å"I made no threats,† Tyrion said. â€Å"That was a promise.† Little Lord Robert jumped to his feet at that, so vexed he dropped his doll. â€Å"You can’t hurt us,† he shouted. â€Å"No one can hurt us here. Let him know, Mother, disclose to him he can’t hurt us here.† The kid started to jerk. â€Å"The Eyrie is impregnable,† Lysa Arryn announced tranquilly. She drew her child close, holding him safe in the hover of her stout white arms. â€Å"The Imp is attempting to scare us, sweet child. The Lannisters are for the most part liars. Nobody will hurt my sweet boy.† Its hellfire was, she was no uncertainty right. Having seen what it took to arrive, Tyrion could well envision how it would be for a knight attempting to battle his way up in defensive layer, while stones and bolts poured down from above and adversaries challenged with him for each progression. Bad dream didn't start to portray it. Little miracle the Eyrie had never been taken. In any case, Tyrion had been not able to quietness himself. â€Å"Not impregnable,† he stated, â€Å"merely inconvenient.† Youthful Robert pointed down, his hand trembling. â€Å"You’re a liar. Mother, I need to see him fly.† Two sentries in sky-blue shrouds held onto Tyrion by the arms, lifting him off his floor. The divine beings just recognize what may have happened then were it not for Catelyn Stark. â€Å"Sister,† she got out from where she remained beneath the seats, â€Å"I beseech you to recall, this man is my detainee. I won't have him harmed.† Lysa Arryn looked at her sister coolly for a second, at that point rose and cleared down on Tyrion, her long skirts trailing after her. For a moment he dreaded she would strike him, however rather she told them to discharge him. Her men pushed him to the floor, his legs went free from him, and Tyrion fell. He more likely than not made a serious sight as he battled to his knees, just to feel his correct leg fit, sending him rambling again. Chuckling blasted all over the High Hall of the Arryns. â€Å"My sister’s little visitor is excessively exhausted to stand,† Lady Lysa reported. â€Å"Ser Vardis, bring him down to the cell. A rest in one of our sky cells will do him much good.† The watchmen snapped

Science Fair Reflection Paper Essays

Science Fair Reflection Paper Essays Science Fair Reflection Paper Essay Science Fair Reflection Paper Essay Packing was the main the word that entered in my brain the night prior to the Science Fair in BAN Clara Elementary School. It was an upsetting night yet everyone is carrying out their responsibilities for the accomplishment of the said occasion. I was doled out in doing the scarves for the Mr.. What's more, Ms. Science Fair. We, the Program and Events Committee, effectively made it and every other person. I stressed in light of the fact that I will have a restless night before the Science Fair. Be that as it may, the following day, my vitality didnt go down. It was the day of the Science Fair, October 28 2013. I didnt care about rest and al I needed was Just to get this occasion fruitful. There were numerous youngsters in the school and all of them was so glad to see their Dates and Kayaks. They were so lively and serious that I overlook the words restless and tired. The coaches were additionally serious that it likewise made you need to cheer those little children. The occasion was without a doubt loaded with grins and energy. A taxing day however we were relatively revolutionary calendar. I was glad to such an extent that it will end sooner than what we had planned. The most anticipated occasion, Mr.. What's more, Ms. Science 2013, was the headliner for the Science Fair. Groups picked their agents and I didnt expect that those children would be so serious and certain to take an interest in the expo. Their partners were yelling their group shading to cheer their delegates. Champs were reported after the exhibition and we completed the projects, exercises and games. In general, the BAN Clara Science Fair 2013 was a fruitful occasion. We doubtlessly had mastered something in this occasion and ideally, the children likewise had earned more information about the subject Science and delighted in the occasion despite the fact that it was a tiring one. Credit to all understudies

2016 Early Action Decision Timeline - UGA Undergraduate Admissions

2016 Early Action Decision Timeline - UGA Undergraduate Admissions 2016 Early Action Decision Timeline For all of you who are waiting anxiously by your computer/mailbox, nervous about your Early Action decision, here is some good news. UGA is planning on releasing the EA decisions on the myStatus page on Friday, November 20 in the late afternoon, unless some serious problem arises, which I do not expect. If this changes, we will let you know, but this is the plan at this time. If there are issues, the release date and time would then be a little later, either over the weekend or the early part of the next week. Do not call/email/text/message/tweet asking for the exact time of late afternoon, as I cannot give an exact time. We will post a message here when it opens up. We are excited about this, and I am guessing you are as well, and hopefully it will allow for a little less nerve-wracking Thanksgiving break for some of you. In addition to the decisions being available on the myStatus page, letters will go out in the mail for Accepted, Deferred and Incomplete students. Freshman denial letters will not be mailed out, as almost all applicants see their decisions online, and we, along with a number of colleges, did not want to have a letter that only served to reinforce the negative feelings they might already have. Here are a few suggestions on how to react to the four different decisions: Admit: Celebrate with family, buy a lot of UGA gear to wear for the Thanksgiving break, but remember that not everyone has received a decision of admission, and so be a little more low key with friends and classmates. In other words, do not run up to you best friend during English class and scream I got into Georgia while 10-15 of your classmates are mentally creating new and painful ways for you to meet your doom. In addition, be patient with the other parts of campus (commitment deposit, housing, the UGA myID system, etc.), as they might need a few days to take in your information. Remember, it takes a little while for information to flow to other offices. Read the materials we give you online and in an acceptance packet as it will instruct you on what to do next. Defer: This is the most challenging one, as these are applicants who are truly strong students, but we want to see more about them, as well as the rest of the applicant pool, before making a final decision. Please remember, this is not a denial at all, but instead a way for us to be able to review you in full, from your co-curricular activities, your essays, and your recommendations. As I usually state, defer is not a four letter word (even though you might feel this way), only a delay in an admission decision. This is your chance to let us know what you are like as an overall applicant. While this is probably not the answer you would like, I would suggest you treat it as a call-back for a second audition. Some roles have already been cast (or admitted), and we now want to look at you in more detail to see how you compare to the rest of the people auditioning (or applying). One of the worst things you can do is give up and not do the essays. The second worst thing is to call us up and berate us for not admitting you. We will be happy to talk to people, but make sure to communicate in a positive tone, understand that we cannot talk about other applicants, and please remember that defer does not mean denial. In past years, just under half of the deferred applicants who completed part II were later admitted. Each year, about 1,400 deferred students do not complete part II, so we never even have a chance to even review them! If you are serious about UGA, take the time to complete your application, and then be patient as we review all of these files throughout Jan., Feb. and March. When completing part II/the essays, you do NOT need to do an entirely new application, and there is no new/additional application fee. You just need to go to your myStatus page after decisions are out, complete part II/the essays, and hit submit. As well, get a teacher from an academic area to write your teacher recommendation. Remember, UGA is in no way done with the overall freshman admission process. We still have a long way to go, with a great deal of files to read and admission offers to make, so make sure you do your best to show UGA what you are like as an overall student/citizen. Deny: While this is not a fun situation at all, the reality is that if you have been denied Early Action, you are truly not competitive for admission at UGA as compared to the rest of the applicant pool. It is not easy to write that, and it is very difficult to tell this to a student or parent, but when we look at this students application in comparison with the other 14,515 EA applicants (and remember, we expect to get over 9,000 RD applicants as well), they do not match up academically with the others. It is better to tell you now instead of waiting until late March, as this gives you time to make other plans. Unless there seems to be a serious error (you are in the top of your class, take a very challenging course load, and have a strong test score), my suggestion is to not contact us about the decision, but instead move forward with plan B. While we do not mind talking with you at all, the reality is that an Early Action denial means that the admission to UGA is not possible as a freshman. Incomplete: For the small number of students who did not complete your EA file, you are now automatically deferred to the next step, and so you will need to get in the missing materials from EA, and also submit part II of the application and a teacher recommendation. We went three plus weeks beyond the deadline allowing you to get in the missing documents, sending reminder emails, indicating what was missing through the myStatus page, and it was your responsibility to get in the required materials. So I do not suggest contacting us to see if we can take items late, as that time has passed. Focus instead on sending in what is needed to be reviewed in the next round. When completing part II/the essays, you do NOT need/want to do an entirely new application, and there is no new/additional application fee. You just need to go to your myStatus page after decisions are out, complete part II/the essays, and hit submit. Go Dawgs!

Importance Of Conflict Resolution - Free Essay Example

Sample details Pages: 3 Words: 827 Downloads: 9 Date added: 2019/08/16 Category Society Essay Level High school Tags: Conflict Resolution Essay Did you like this example? Conflict Resolution When conflict arises, it is easy for Soldiers to get entrenched in their positions and for tempers to flare, voices to rise, and body language to become defensive or aggressive. As an NCO, you will always need to take a passive stance toward your Soldiers, especially in stressful situations. With instilling good relationships, listening carefully, setting the standard and resolving conflicts, NCOs will have the tools to complete the mission and create unit cohesion. NCOs that have Soldiers need to be prepared to handle conflicts to effectively complete missions and create unit cohesion.   As an NCO, your priority in any conflict situation is to take control early and maintain good relationships within your team. Ensure that everyone understands how the conflict could be a mutual problem, and that it is important to resolve it through respectful discussion and negotiation, rather than aggression. Clarify that it is essential for Soldiers to work together happily, effectively and without resentment so that the team and unit can function effectively. It is also important to let team members know that conflict is rarely one-sided and that it is best to resolve it collaboratively, by addressing the problem rather than the personalities involved. The problem is caused by neither Soldier, but they do need to work together to resolve it. As an NCO, you must be mindful to remind Soldiers that without team solidarity the mission will not succeed. Don’t waste time! Our writers will create an original "Importance Of Conflict Resolution" essay for you Create order It is important that NCOs understand each partys underlying interests, needs, and concerns. Be aware that in a stressful environment it may be difficult to keep cool. So remember to take a positive stance, keep the conversation courteous, and avoid blaming anyone. Ask for each Soldiers viewpoint, and confirm that you need his or her cooperation to solve the problem. Ask your team members to make an effort to understand one anothers motivations and goals, and to think about how those may affect their actions, and the task at hand to accomplish the mission. Once you have, your Soldiers understanding encourage them to use active listening skills, such as looking directly at the speaker, listening carefully, nodding, and allowing each person to finish before talking. Remind Soldiers of their military bearing and customs while working issues out with fellow team members. By following these guidelines, everyone will be able to hear and understand one anothers positions and perceptions. Focusing on listening will also help to prevent the conversation from becoming heated and getting out of hand in a tactical environment. Encourage each team member to listen to other Soldiers points of view, without defending their own position. Ensure that each Soldier has finished talking before someone else speaks, emphasize that you, as their NCO wants to resolve the situation through discussion and negotiation, and ensure that listeners understand the problem fully by asking questions for further clarification. Once you have listened to your Soldier need s and concerns, outline the behaviors and actions that you will or will not tolerate, and gain the opposing parties acknowledgment to your standards. When you have a melting pot of different Soldier with different underlying needs, interests, and goals, they can often cause people to perceive problems differently. You will need to set the standard to gain team cohesion before the problem that you are trying to solve can be mutually acceptable. As an NCO, you should have a team agreement of the facts that are relevant to the mission and task at hand. Sometimes, Soldiers will see only the different interlocking problems of the task at hand but miss the big picture aspect of the mission. Therefore, if your Soldiers cannot reach an agreement, NCOs should aim to understand their perception of the problem while instilling trust and leadership to help smooth over conflicts. By this stage, you as the NCO will have resolved the conflict. Each side will likely understand the other Soldiers position better while carrying on the task and mission. However, you may also have uncovered some serious differences within your team. This is where an NCO can learn and grow from an inter-unit conflict so that you can find a solution that satisfies everyone. Alternatively, you might need to take action to change the fundamental circumstances that have caused the conflict. By having an After Action Review with your team when the mission comes to an index, you can help your Soldier generate solutions and you can ensure that everyone feels included. Soldiers will likely be satisfied with the outcome knowing their NCO is open to all suggestions, including ones you might not have considered before. NCOs should always remember they will accomplish the mission and protect the welfare of their Soldiers by ingraining great connections, listening with open ears, setting the standard and settling conflicts as they arise. Following these guidelines will help NCOs to become better leaders moving forward. Building upon unit cohesion and effectively completing the will be handled by great NCOs, who guide their Soldiers though conflicts.

Analysis Of The Epic Of Gilgamesh - 1311 Words

The Epic of Gilgamesh is a very popular epic that is difficult to understand at first, which is why there is different translations of the same book. Although Foster and Sander’s translations have a lot of similar words and the stories are basically the same, there are also a lot of differences between the two. One of which is more straightforward and easier to understand, whereas the other is more of an in depth thoughtful read for the reader. Both translations differences have their own particular reasons for doing so, and add to the depiction of the story. I feel like the translation in the Anthology is a more complex read, whereas Sander’s translation is much easier to understand. Each translation of the flood is very much different.†¦show more content†¦It allows the reader to have a picture or thought in their head through knowing how extreme it is with a woman in labor and the whole birth process as a whole. Despite the flood, back tracking to the beginning of each of the stories it talks about why Enkidu was created and who created him. The goddess of creation, Aruru created the almighty Gilgamesh and Enkidu was needed to calm and settle Gilgamesh down because he had been troubling Uruk. Both translations talk about creating Gilgamesh a partner; however, Sanders says â€Å"leave Uruk in quiet† and Foster’s says â€Å" that Uruk may have peace†. Honestly, those two differences actually has a big impact on the story. Saying to leave â€Å"Uruk in quiet† doesn’t explain or describe the need for Gilgamesh to calm down as severely as it really is. It seems that the translation did not focus very much on Enkidu’s importance. On the contrary, the Anthology â€Å"that Uruk may have peace† more effectively explains how bad Gilgamesh is being towards the people. Therefore, Enkidu’s importance is further revealed by Foster. In terms of my initial reaction to each of the translations, I personally liked different aspects of each one, I wouldn’t say I like one over the other. I think it is important that Sander’s translation is more straightforward and easier to read; however, I also feel that leaving out important aspects of the story takes away from the overall meaning of the characters, such as Enkidu’s importance exclaimedShow MoreRelatedThe Epic Of Gilgamesh And Analysis1436 Words   |  6 Pages The Epic of Gilgamesh –Summary and analysis Introduction The Epic of Gilgamesh is an excerpt of the original text of the Epic listed in the Sources of the Western Tradition, 5th edition, by Perry, Peden and Von Laue (2003). 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Succubus on Top CHAPTER 2 Free Essays

â€Å"Bastien,† I breathed, still disbelieving. â€Å"Bastien!† I threw my arms around him, and he lifted me up like I weighed nothing, twirling me around. When he gently set me back on my feet, he looked down at me fondly, his handsome face cracking into a grin. We will write a custom essay sample on Succubus on Top CHAPTER 2 or any similar topic only for you Order Now Until I saw it, I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed that smile. â€Å"You look exactly the same,† I noted, taking in the curling black hair that touched his shoulders, the eyes so dark a chocolate brown they almost looked black as well. Unlike me, he liked to wear the shape he’d been born with, the body from his mortal days. His skin was the color of the mochas I consumed regularly, smooth and lovely. His nose had been broken when he was human, but he never bothered to shape-shift the signs away. It didn’t detract from his looks any; in fact, it sort of gave him a dashing scoundrel persona. â€Å"And you, as usual, look completely different. What are you calling yourself these days?† His voice carried a faint British accent leftover from many years spent in London after leaving the slave plantations of Haiti. He kept that accent and the French expressions of his childhood only for effect; when he chose to, he could speak American English as flawlessly as I could. â€Å"Georgina.† â€Å"Georgina? Not Josephine or Hiroko?† â€Å"Georgina,† I reiterated. â€Å"Very well then, Georgina. Let me see you. Turn around.† I spun around, like a model, letting him get the full effect of this body. When I faced him again, he nodded with approval. â€Å"Exquisite – not that I’d expect any less from you. Short, just like every other one, but the curves are in all the right spots, and the coloring is very nice.† He leaned closer to me, studying my face with a professional eye. â€Å"The eyes I especially like. Catlike. How long have you been wearing this one?† â€Å"Fifteen years.† â€Å"Barely broken in.† â€Å"Well,† observed Hugh dryly, â€Å"it sort of depends on how you define ‘broken in.'† Bastien and I both turned, remembering we had an audience. The other immortals watched with bemusement, the poker game momentarily forgotten. Bastien turned on a high-beam smile and crossed the room in a few quick strides. â€Å"Bastien Moreau.† He extended a polite hand to Hugh, every inch of him polished and deferential. Incubi, after all, have just as good a sense of customer service and public relations as succubi. â€Å"It’s a pleasure to meet you.† He made equally polite introductions with the rest of the group, pausing momentarily when he reached Carter. A brief flicker of surprise in Bastien’s dark eyes was the only other indication that he found an angel in our midst odd. Otherwise, his surface charm remained perfect as he smiled and shook Carter’s hand. Although clearly surprised at Bastien’s presence, Peter stood up dutifully. â€Å"Have a seat. You want a drink?† â€Å"Thank you. You’re too kind. Bourbon on ice, please. And thank you for allowing me to show up so unexpectedly. You have a stunning home.† The vampire nodded, mollified at someone finally appreciating his hospitality. I, however, had other concerns and wondered what had caused the incubus to â€Å"show up so unexpectedly.† I suddenly remembered Jerome’s taunting surprise. â€Å"Jerome knows you’re here, doesn’t he?† â€Å"Of course. Long since arranged.† Our kind could not cross into another’s territory without making arrangements with the local supervisor. For a group that had allegedly rebelled against the system, we had a staggering amount of rules, regulations, and paperwork. We made the 1RS look juvenile. â€Å"He told me where to find you tonight.† â€Å"And you’re here because†¦?† He flung a playful arm around me. â€Å"You’re pushy. No â€Å"Hello, how are you†? Can’t I just stop by to see an old friend?† â€Å"Not in this business.† â€Å"How long have you known Georgina?† asked Hugh, shifting his solidly built body into a more comfortable sitting position. Bastien turned thoughtful. â€Å"I don’t know. How long has it been? Ages?† â€Å"You have to be a little more specific than that,† I reminded him, my mind slipping back to a London of long ago, recalling rough-hewn streets redolent with the scent of horses and unwashed humans. â€Å"Early seventeenth century?† He nodded, and I let my tone turn teasing. â€Å"Mostly I just remember how green you were.† â€Å"I have no idea what you’re talking about.† â€Å"Whatever. I taught you everything you know. â€Å" â€Å"Ah, older women.† Bastien glanced around at the others, shrugging his shoulders with feigned haplessness. â€Å"Always so sure of themselves.† â€Å"So, explain how this works,† Cody urged eagerly, young eyes on Bastien. â€Å"You’re like the male equivalent of Georgina, right? You shape-shift and everything?† Having been an immortal for less than ten years, Cody was always learning something new about us. I realized he’d probably never even met an incubus before. â€Å"Well, there’s really no equivalent for Fleur , but yes, something like that.† I think he preferred calling me Fleur because it was easier than trying to remember the names I kept acquiring over the years. â€Å"So you seduce women?† pushed Cody. â€Å"Exactly.† â€Å"Wow. That must actually be hard.† â€Å"It’s not so – wait a minute,† I said. â€Å"What are you implying over there? What’s this â€Å"actually† business?† â€Å"Well, he’s got a point,† insisted Peter, handing Bastien the drink. â€Å"It’s not like your job’s all that difficult, Georgina. By comparison, I mean.† â€Å"My job’s very difficult!† â€Å"What, getting men to have sex with a beautiful woman?† Hugh shook his head. â€Å"That’s not hard. That’s not even remedial.† I looked at them incredulously. â€Å"It’s not like I can just jump into bed with anyone. I have to get quality guys.† â€Å"Yeah, as of a month ago maybe.† Bastien shot me a sharp look at that remark, but I was too annoyed to acknowledge it. â€Å"Hey, I just won an award, you know. Got the certificate and everything. And anyway, contrary to your pathetic love lives, not all guys will immediately give in to sex. It takes work.† â€Å"What, like horns and a whip?† suggested Peter slyly, referring to a particularly embarrassing incident from my past. â€Å"That’s different. He wanted it.† â€Å"They all want it. That’s the point.† Hugh turned to Bastien reverentially. â€Å"How do you do it? Got any pointers you can share with the rest of us?† â€Å"Several lifetimes’ worth,† chuckled Bastien, still watching me. â€Å"Those are trade secrets, I’m afraid. Although, really, in Fleur ‘s defense, the techniques are the same for both of us. You should have been paying more attention to her. â€Å" â€Å"Low-cut necklines aren’t exactly a trade secret.† â€Å"Much more to it than that, my friend. Especially with Georgina. She’s one of the best.† Hugh and the vampires looked at me as though they’d never noticed me before, apparently attempting to figure out if what Bastien said was true. â€Å"No need to start that up,† I pointed out hastily. â€Å"Come on, weren’t you just bragging about how you taught me everything I know? You and I used to run some good rackets back in the day.† â€Å"What kind of rackets?† asked Peter. When I wouldn’t answer, Bastien merely shrugged. â€Å"Oh, you know. The kind that require a partner. â€Å" Cody’s eyes widened. â€Å"Like†¦group sex?† â€Å"No!† I protested, unable to stay silent at that. Not that it wasn’t in my curriculum vitae. â€Å"Partnerships to suck somebody in. Play husband and wife. Or brother and sister. Or†¦or†¦whatever it takes to nail your mark.† Bastien nodded along with me. â€Å"Men really like the thrill of winning over someone’s beautiful young wife. Women too, for that matter. The forbidden always has a certain allure to it.† â€Å"Wow.† Cody and the others pondered this new development and tried probing us a bit more for details. Bastien, sensing my reluctance to elaborate about the past, gave vague answers, and conversation soon drifted to other topics – as well as to Peter’s amazing dinner. It wasn’t Met good, but maybe the company had biased me. â€Å"Are you going to tell me what’s going on?† I murmured to the incubus later, as our group finally rose from the table and began making motions to leave. I was dying to know what could have drawn him here and earned Jerome’s approval. Hell’s denizens could take vacations, but this smacked of business. Bastien patted me on the back, giving me his trademark grin. â€Å"In good time, my sweet. Is there somewhere we can talk?† â€Å"Sure. I’ll take you back to my place. You can meet my cat.† When Bastien left me to once again thank Peter for dinner, Carter strolled over. â€Å"Are you seeing Seth soon?† â€Å"Later tonight.† Seeing his amused expression, I scowled. â€Å"Just get it over with, okay?† â€Å"Get what over with?† â€Å"The part where you tell me how stupid it is to try to have a serious relationship with a mortal.† The mirth faded from his face. â€Å"I don’t think it’s stupid.† I studied him, waiting for the punch line. â€Å"Everyone else does.† â€Å"Does Seth? Do you?† I looked away, thinking about Seth. That funny, distracted look on his face when inspiration seized him. His goofy T-shirt collection. The exquisite way he could capture the world on paper. How warm his hand was when it slid into mine. The way I just couldn’t stay away from him, despite the million reasons that said I should. Suddenly, caught in Carter’s penetrating eyes, something inside of me let loose. I hated how the angel could do this to me. â€Å"Sometimes I do. Sometimes I look at him†¦and I remember how it was when I kissed him and felt that love. It makes me want that back. I want to feel it again. I want to return it. Other times, though†¦other times, I’m so scared. I listen to these guys†¦and to Jerome†¦and then the doubts gnaw at me. I can’t get them out of my head. We’ve been sleeping together, you know. Literally. It hasn’t been a problem so far, but sometimes I lie awake watching him, thinking this can’t last. The longer it does†¦I feel like†¦like I’m standing on a high wire, with Seth at one end and me at the other. We’re trying to reach each other, but one misstep, one breeze, one side-glance, and I’ll fall over the edge. And keep falling and falling.† I took in a shaking breath when I finished. Carter leaned toward me and brushed the hair away from the side of my face. â€Å"Don’t look down then,† he whispered. Bastien had returned, catching the end of my soliloquy. â€Å"Who’s Seth?† he wanted to know later, once we were back at my apartment. â€Å"Long story.† Yet I found myself spilling it anyway. Of course, telling Bastien about Seth meant telling him about a lot of other things too. Like a recent encounter with Jerome’s half-human, half-angel son – a stunningly beautiful man with a twisted sense of social justice who had been on a semipsychotic mission to make other immortals pay for the shoddy treatment of him and his kind. The fact that he had been a good dancer and a phenomenal lover had not really been enough to make up for his wanton killing of lesser immortals and subsequent attempt on Carter. That, of course, led me to next explain how Seth had witnessed the inevitable showdown and had been injured when I kissed him to get an emergency fix of energy. Jerome had wanted to erase Seth’s memory of the whole event, as well as the writer’s love for me. I had begged the demon not to, finally getting him to agree when I offered to devote all of my efforts back to seducing and corrupting decent men like a good little succubus should. Horatio’s visit had been the ultimate testimony to my â€Å"new and improved† self. Bastien, sprawling on my sofa, listened thoughtfully and frowned when I finished. â€Å"What do you mean? Why weren’t you going after decent ones already?† â€Å"I got tired of it. Didn’t like hurting them.† â€Å"So what? You were going after bad ones?† I nodded. He shook his head, knowing as well as I did how little life energy an ignoble mortal yielded compared to a good one. â€Å"Poor Fleur . What a miserable existence that must have been.† I gave him a bittersweet smile. â€Å"I think you’re the first person that’s ever sounded more sympathetic than incredulous. Most people think I’m idiotic for getting by like that.† â€Å"It’s a pain, yes,† Bastien agreed, â€Å"and requires more frequent fixes, but hardly idiotic. You don’t think I have days when I feel the same way? When I just want to throw my hands up and leave decent women alone?† â€Å"Why don’t you?† â€Å"Not our lot. You and I are glorified prostitutes – courtesans, if you want to be more genteel, but it’s all the same thing. Switching to bad ones won’t change our fates. Won’t even do anything in the long run, really, except relieve our guilt a bit, and even that relief doesn’t last forever. â€Å" â€Å"Christ. You aren’t really making me feel better.† â€Å"Sorry.† â€Å"No, no, it’s okay. Whatever. I mean, it’s nice to have someone to talk to about this. No one else – none of the other immortals – really get it. â€Å" He snorted. â€Å"Of course they don’t. How could they?† My silence agreed for me, and Bastien gave me a kindly look. â€Å"Not that your friends weren’t nice. Are there other immortals in the city you can talk to? Any succubi or incubi?† â€Å"A few more vampires and minor demons, but that’s it. They’re less social than the ones I run with. I have some good mortal friends too. Still. They’re not the same either.† I smiled gently. â€Å"They’re not you. I’ve missed you.† Bastien tousled my hair, earning a critical glance from my cat Aubrey. â€Å"I’ve missed you too.† â€Å"So will you tell me what’s going on now?† His serious mien turned jovial. â€Å"Not sure what you’re going to think about it, now that I’ve heard all of this.† â€Å"Try me.† Sliding off the couch, Bastien settled next to me so we could speak face-to-face. â€Å"You ever heard of Dana Dailey?† â€Å"I live on this planet, don’t I? She’s always my first choice when I’m driving in my car and feel like listening to some highly commercial, conservative rhetoric.† I didn’t make any attempt to hide my disdain. In addition to touting worn-out family values, radio host Dana Dailey also enjoyed working thinly veiled racist, homophobic, and even sexist insinuations into her talk show. I couldn’t stand her. â€Å"I imagine that mood strikes you quite a bit. Did you know she’s Seattle based?† â€Å"Of course. It’s a wonder she hasn’t dragged down the property value. â€Å" â€Å"Funny you should mention that. A house in her neighborhood just came up for sale.† â€Å"So?† â€Å"So, our employers have purchased it.† â€Å"What?† Grinning, knowing he had me hooked, Bastien leaned in eagerly. â€Å"Pay attention, Fleur , because here’s the good part. We got wind of some rumors concerning Mrs. Dailey’s ex-pool boy in San Diego. He claims to have been ‘romantically involved’ with her.† I racked my brain, recalling a promotional picture I’d seen of her and her politician husband on a billboard. â€Å"Have you seen Mr. Dailey? I’d opt for a pool boy too. What became of the rumors?† â€Å"Oh, you know. The same thing that always happens to rumors with no proof. They faded away; nothing happened.† I waited expectantly. â€Å"Okay, and the house fits in how?† â€Å"Well, like you said, her husband’s no prize. Of course, she isn’t going to get divorced or anything, not when it could potentially tarnish his political future and her whole prissy, on-air family-values campaign. But†¦the naughty streak is still there. If she’s strayed once, I bet she could be lured into doing it again.† I groaned as the pieces fell together. â€Å"Like with a handsome, debonair neighbor?† â€Å"Debonair? Really, you’re too kind.† â€Å"So what happens after that?† â€Å"Then we just let the evidence do its work.† â€Å"Evidence?† â€Å"Well, yeah. We’re not going to go the way of the pool boy. When I manage to lure the illustrious Mrs. Dailey into physical pleasures surpassing her wildest dreams, there’ll be a camera rolling. We’re going to record this for posterity, then go to the press. Full exposure, full takedown. No more radio empire preaching to the masses to return to pure, decent ways. Even her husband’s political campaign will be marred, thus opening the door for some liberal upstart to take his place and help get this area back into the corrupt rut it so desperately longs for. â€Å" â€Å"Gee, it’s all so neat.† He eyed me. â€Å"You doubt the plan’s brilliance?† â€Å"I don’t know. I appreciate the ballsy factor here, but I think this is kind of out-there, even for you. I can’t imagine Dana Dailey,ll go down so easily.† â€Å"Leave the going down to me.† â€Å"Your ego’s out of control.† He laughed and pulled me to him. His arms felt good around me. Familiar. Reassuring. â€Å"Admit it. That’s why you love me. â€Å" â€Å"Yeah, you’re like the brother I never had. One that doesn’t set my hair on fire. â€Å" His eyes sparkled wickedly. â€Å"And once again, you’ve jumped ahead of me. I want you to see me in action on this – not to mention keep me company while I’m in town. You’ve got to come visit – as Mitch’s sister.† â€Å"Who?† Bastien suddenly stood up and shape-shifted. The familiar features morphed, leaving no trace of the rakish incubus I knew. Six-two and broad-shouldered, he now had dark blond hair and sky blue eyes, his face only just losing its pretty boy aspect and giving way to the sizzling promise of an experienced, confident man in his early thirties. When he smiled, those perfect teeth lit up a room. He winked at me. â€Å"Mitch Hunter,† he explained in a suave, movie-star voice. No accent now. â€Å"You got an equally cheesy title to go with that? ‘Mitch Hunter, MD’ or ‘Mitch Hunter, Private Investigator?’ Seems appropriate.† â€Å"Nah. I’m a consultant, of course. Everyone’s favorite nondescript yet well-paid white-collar job.† â€Å"You look like you need a golf club in one hand and a burger flipper in the other.† â€Å"Tease all you want, but Dana won’t be able to resist this. Now† – he gestured for me to stand up – â€Å"let’s see what you can do.† â€Å"Are you joking?† â€Å"Do I look like I’m joking? If you’re going to come visit me, you’ve got to put on some family resemblance.† I rolled my eyes and stood up. After a moment’s study of his features, I shape-shifted my petite body into a taller, more athletic one with long blond hair. He scrutinized me, then shook his head. â€Å"Too pretty.† â€Å"What? This is perfect.† â€Å"That body’s unreal. No one looks that good. My God woman, that ass.† â€Å"Oh, come on. You don’t think Special Agent Mitch Hunter’s sister isn’t the type to spend two hours a day on a stair-climber?† Bastien grunted. â€Å"You’ve got a point there. At least lose some of the hair. These suburban types go for boring and practical.† â€Å"Yeah, but I’m not suburban. I’m your hipper, more stylish – â€Å" Someone knocked at my door. He glanced at me questioningly. â€Å"Oh! It’s Seth.† I changed back to my normal body, and Bastien did the same. I opened the door. Seth Mortensen, best-selling author and professional introvert, stood outside my apartment. Clad in a Frogger T-shirt and corduroy jacket, he seemed to have forgotten to brush his hair again. It was messy and brown with a faint coppery cast, mirrored in the perpetual five o’clock shadow across his lower face. His lips turned up in a smile upon seeing me, and I couldn’t help but briefly ponder how soft and kissable they looked. â€Å"Hey,† I said. â€Å"Hey.† Despite whatever attraction burned between us, the engine of our conversation always took a little while to turn over. I led him inside, and his expression faltered a bit when he saw Bastien. â€Å"Oh. Hi.† â€Å"Hello,† boomed Bastien, extending his hand. â€Å"Bastien Moreau.† â€Å"Seth Mortensen.† â€Å"A pleasure. I’ve heard all about you. Your books are fabulous. I mean, I’ve never read any of them – just don’t have the time for that anymore – but I’m sure they’re magnifique.† â€Å"Um, thanks.† â€Å"Bastien is an old friend,† I explained. â€Å"He’s going to be in town for a while on†¦business.† Seth nodded, and silence dropped in between all of us like a fourth companion. Finally, Bastien cleared his throat. I could see from his face that he was already losing interest, dismissing Seth as too quiet and unexciting. The incubus craved action. â€Å"Well, I should take off. I don’t want to interrupt your plans.† â€Å"What are you going to do?† I asked. â€Å"You can’t have any plans of your own yet. â€Å" He winked. â€Å"I’ll improvise.† I gave him a knowing look. Ruffling my hair again, he embraced me and kissed each of my cheeks. â€Å"I’ll be in touch, Fleur . Make sure you keep an eye on the news.† â€Å"I’ll never leave my television.† Bastien gave Seth a friendly nod. â€Å"Nice meeting you.† When the incubus was gone, Seth asked, â€Å"When you say ‘old friend,’ are we talking, like†¦since the Ice Age?† â€Å"No. Of course not.† â€Å"Oh.† â€Å"It’s only been about four hundred years.† â€Å"Ah. Yes. Only four hundred.† A wry expression spread over his face. â€Å"Being with you is a continual experiment in perspective. Among other things.† He considered. â€Å"So what is he? Werewolf? Demigod?† â€Å"Nothing so exciting. He’s an incubus. You must have heard of those.† Seth nodded, frowning. â€Å"Sure. Like a succubus only†¦he has to go after women to survive?† I nodded. â€Å"Wow. For all eternity. Wow.† His eyebrows shot up as true wonder played over his face. â€Å"That’s got to be†¦wow. That’s really rough.† My eyes narrowed. â€Å"Don’t even start down that road.† Bastien had said he didn’t want to interrupt our plans, but we didn’t really have any, short of spending the evening together. I suppose most couples, running out of options, could have resorted to sex or at least making out, but the nature of our relationship required a full itinerary. We mustered some ideas. â€Å"You want to rent a movie?† I offered. â€Å"I’ve got some coupons.† We ended up renting Gladiator, at which time I discovered Horatio’s free rental coupons had expired long ago. â€Å"That son of a bitch!† â€Å"Who?† asked Seth. But of course I couldn’t explain. Fucking demons. Back home, Seth and I snuggled on my couch as we watched, warm and close yet still safe from any detrimental succubus effects. He listened with bemusement as I pointed out historical inaccuracies, most of which involved how much dirtier and smellier the Roman Empire had been. When it finished, we turned off the television and sat together in the dark. Seth stroked the side of my face, sifting through the strands of my hair and occasionally brushing my cheek with his fingers. A small gesture, yet when that was all you could do with another person, it became startlingly erotic. I looked up at him. I knew what I saw when I studied him. He was everything I could want and everything I couldn’t have. The steady, loving companion I’d pined for all these years. I wondered what he saw with me. The expression he wore now seemed fond. Admiring. And a little sad. â€Å"But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair ow,st; Nor shall Death brag thou wand,rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow,st; So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. â€Å" â€Å"Sonnet Eighteen,† I murmured, thinking he recited beautifully. Hell, forget his recitation skills. How many guys in this age of instant messaging even knew Shakespeare anymore? His amused little half-smile played over his face. â€Å"Clever and beautiful. How could any man settle for a mortal woman?† â€Å"Easily,† I returned. My friends’ misgivings suddenly loomed up in me. â€Å"You could, you know.† He blinked, and his rapt look faded, giving way to exasperation. â€Å"Oh. Not this discussion again.† â€Å"I’m serious – â€Å" â€Å"And so am I. I don’t want to be with anyone else right now. I’ve told you that a hundred times. Why do we keep talking about this?† â€Å"Because you know we can’t – â€Å" â€Å"Nobuts.Give me some credit for being able to control myself. Besides, I’m not with you for sex. You know that. I’m with you to be with you.† â€Å"How can that be enough?† It never had been for any other man I’d known. â€Å"Because†¦because†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He tipped my chin up with his hand, the emotion in those eyes making my insides melt. â€Å"Because being with you feels so right†¦like it’s always been meant to be. You make me believe in a higher power for once in my life.† I closed my eyes and put my head on his chest. I could hear his heart beating. He wrapped me to him, his embrace warm and solid, and I felt like I couldn’t get close enough to him. Probably I should have let the discussion go then, but one more thing was still on my mind tonight. After all, I had a gold-embossed certificate sitting on my counter. â€Å"Even if you can control yourself†¦even if you can stay celibate, you know I won’t be.† The words hurt coming out, but my mouth’s control switch didn’t always function so well. Besides, I didn’t want anything standing between us. â€Å"I don’t care.† But I felt his hold on me stiffen a little. â€Å"Seth, you will – â€Å" â€Å"Thetis, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except what happens between you and me.† The fierceness in his voice – a contrast to his normal placidity – thrilled me, but it was not that that made me give up the argument. It was the word â€Å"Thetis.† Thetis. Thetis the shape-shifting goddess. The shape-shifter wooed and won by a steadfast mortal. Seth had coined the name for me when he learned I was a succubus, when he’d first insinuated that my infernal standing was not a deterrent. I pulled him closer. Don’t look down. We went to bed shortly thereafter, Aubrey snuggling up at our feet. The feel of Seth’s body curled by mine under the covers was tantalizing, a cruel whisper of the restrictions around us. I sighed and tried to think of something other than how nice he felt or how great it would be if he slid his hand up my shirt. I grinned as a most unsexual sentiment came to mind. â€Å"I want pancakes.† â€Å"What? Right now?† â€Å"No. For breakfast.† â€Å"Oh.† He yawned. â€Å"You’d better get up early then.† â€Å"Me? I’m not going to make them.† â€Å"Yeah?† His sleepy voice carried mock sympathy. â€Å"Who’s going to make them for you then?† â€Å"You are.† It was a well-known fact – at least to Seth and me – that he made the best pancakes known to mankind. They always came out perfect, light and fluffy. Through some kitchen magic, he even managed to put smiley faces on them when he made them for me. Once he’d even puta Gon one. I’d assumed it was for my name, but later, he’d sworn it stood for â€Å"goddess.† â€Å"Am I?† His lips brushed my earlobe; his breath was warm against my skin. â€Å"You think I’m going to make you pancakes? Is that how you think it’s going to be?† â€Å"You’re so good at,† I whined. â€Å"Besides, if you do, I’ll sit on the counter in a short robe while you cook.† Oops. Maybe pancakes could become sexual after all. His soft laughter segued into another yawn. â€Å"Oh. Well then.† He kissed my ear again. â€Å"Maybe I’ll make you pancakes. â€Å" His breathing grew slow and regular, the tension in his body easing. Soon he slept, not troubled or tempted in the least by having me in his arms. I sighed again. He was right; he did have self-control. If he could do this, surely I could too. I closed my eyes and waited for exhaustion to take over. Fortunately, it didn’t waste any time; staying up late will do that to you. Maybe that was the real key to sleeping chastely. I woke up in his arms hours later, hearing the ever-so-faint sounds of bad seventies music drifting through the wall. One of my neighbors felt the need to do aerobics to the Bee Gees every day around lunchtime. Certifiable insanity. Wait. Lunchtime? I sat bolt upright, panic jolting me into full consciousness as I assessed the situation. My bed. Seth sprawled beside me. The full roar of traffic outside. Clear, winter sunlight pouring through the window – a lot of sunlight. Fearing the worst, I looked at the nearest clock. It was 12:03. Groaning silently, I groped on the floor for my cell phone, wondering why no one had yet called me in to work. Looking at the phone’s display, I realized I’d turned the ringer off during the movie. Seven new voice mail messages, the phone read. So much for pancakes. Tossing the phone back down, I looked over at Seth, the cuteness of him in a T-shirt and flannel boxers momentarily allaying my frustration. I shook him, wishing I could just crawl back under the covers with him. â€Å"Wake up. I’ve got to go.† He blinked up at me drowsily, further increasing his appeal. Aubrey wore a similar look. â€Å"Huh? Too†¦early.† â€Å"Not that early. I’m late for work.† He stared at me blankly for a few seconds and then sat up nearly as rapidly as I had. â€Å"Oh. Oh man.† â€Å"It’s all right. Let’s go.† He disappeared into the bathroom, and I shape-shifted my appearance once more, turning the pajamas into a red sweater and black skirt, my loose hair into a neat bun. I hated doing this so often, much preferring to rifle through my own closet. Shape-shifting also burned through my energy stash that much more quickly, requiring more frequent victims. Unfortunately, time-crunches call for certain sacrifices. When Seth returned, he did a double take at my appearance and shook his head. â€Å"Still can’t get used to that.† I expected him to go home and sleep, but he went with me to the bookstore. Its coffee shop was his favorite place to write. As we walked into Emerald City Books andCafe,I breathed a sigh of relief that neither my manager Paige nor Warren, the store owner, appeared to be around. Still, business had already opened for the day without me, and my chipper, morning-people coworkers made it impossible to sneak in without notice. â€Å"Hey, Georgina! Hi Seth!† â€Å"Georgina and Seth are here!† â€Å"Good morning, Georgina! Good morning, Seth!† Seth left to take up his writing station upstairs, and I made my way to the back offices. All of them were dark, which I found odd. No managers at all. Someone should have opened before me. I flipped on the light in my own office. I was so fixated on figuring out what was going on that the demon took me completely by surprise. Red-skinned and multihorned, he leapt out at me, waving his arms and making unintelligible grunting sounds. I yelped and dropped the things I’d been carrying, recoiling. A moment later, my senses returned, and I walked over and smacked him on the side of the head as hard as I could. How to cite Succubus on Top CHAPTER 2, Essay examples

Realism in Death of a Salesman Essay Example For Students

Realism in Death of a Salesman Essay Realism in Death of a Salesman Realism can be defined as an attempt to reproduce the surface appearance of the life of normal people in everyday situations (Kennedy 1410). Basically realism is a situation that normal people can relate to based on their own experiences. Realism is extremely prevalent in the play Death of a Salesman. The characters in the play all have real world problems. Lack of money is one of the problems, which is a problem for many people. There are also many conflicts within the family; the biggest is over what success is; money and power or happiness. Willy Loman also wants his children to have a better than he has and tries to do everything he can so they will have a better life, including ending his own. One realistic situation that many people can relate to is money problems. Money is one of the main problems that Willy Loman had throughout the play. The Loman family had many purchases on payments. Linda even states for the vacuum cleaner theres three and a half due on the fifteenth (Miller 1650). The Loman family was living from week to week. Every time Willy came home from a fairly successful day selling, he would think he was finally getting ahead. Willy would tell Linda how much he had made, but she would then point out how much they owed on everything. Willy then felt overwhelmed and said My God, if business dont pick up I dont know what Im gonna do! (1650). Linda would then reassure Willy and tell him Well, next week youll do better (1650). Many people in real life have this same problem. Every time they feel they are getting ahead financially, a problem occurs and they find themselves right back where they started. Most people also have to deal with problems and conflicts within their family throughout their life. Willy would tell Linda how much he had made, but she would then point out how much they owed on everything. Willy then felt overwhelmed and said My God, if business dont pick up I dont know what Im gonna do! (1650). Linda would then reassure Willy and tell him Well, next week youll do better (1650). Many people in real life have this same problem. Every time they feel they are getting ahead financially, a problem occurs and they find themselves right back where they started. Most people also have to deal with problems and conflicts within their family throughout their life. Family problems were not exempt from the characters in Death of a Salesman. Biffs idea of success was completely opposite from Willys. Willy viewed success as achieving money and power; Biff however viewed success in life as being happy. Biff realized that Im just what I am, thats all (1703). Biff realized he was a dime a dozen (1703), but his father could not accept this reality. This situation where parents always keep telling their children what else they could be is common in many families. In actuality the children are where they want to be in life, but the parents just cannot accept their childrens contentment. Biff spent most of his life trying to please Willy, but Biff finally realized that he never could. He was what he was. The most realistic part of the play may have been about how much Willy loved his children and how he wanted their life to be better than his own. Willy raised his children the best he could. The character Ben even seemed to appear when Willy was trying to make a decision on how to make the boys lives better. This situation with Ben makes it appear that Willy has such a hard time making a decision about what is best for the boys, that he relies on his imagination for an answer. The main reason Willy ends up killing himself is because he thinks it will help Biff start his own business with the life insurance money. Willy did everything with the best of intentions and thought his actions and decisions would benefit his children. Most parents are the same way and will do anything in their power to help their children. When reading Death of a Salesman, most people can relate to the problems of the Lomans. The similarities of the Lomans problems to the everyday problems that average people face make this a play full of realism.