Student. Book Lover. Archives.

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About Me

Hey everyone! I'm currently a Senior working on my BA in English and Creative Writing. This blog is an archive of my essays, so I can go back and reference when needed, as my school doesn't give complete access after 60 days of a class ending.

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So, growing up in post-WWII London is similar to other perspectives we have read, in my opinion. For young people like Karim, being British is not something that feels entirely right. Karim introduces himself by saying, “My name is Karim Amir, and I am an Englishman born and bred, almost” (Kureishi). That word 'almost' shows how race immediately affects his identity. Even though Karim was born in England, he is often treated as if he does not fully belong.

As a mixed-race teenager, Karim is often judged or stereotyped, even in spaces that claim to be open-minded. For example, Karim is cast in the theatre for his “authenticity,” which shows that his race is valued more as an image than for his actual skill or talent (Kureishi). His father’s role as a spiritual guide for white people reflects something similar, since his culture is treated as something to consume rather than fully understand. As a white American, I also enjoy learning about Indian culture, but I recognize that I hold more social power because of my skin color, even when I engage with or appreciate that culture. In contrast, modern media has begun offering more positive and complex representations of Indian identity. Shows like Never Have I Ever present Indian-American characters as layered individuals dealing with family, school, grief, and identity, not just cultural stereotypes. Similarly, Bend It Like Beckham portrays a young Indian woman navigating cultural expectations while pursuing her passion for football, showing that identity can include both tradition and personal freedom. These portrayals support the idea that identity is not one-dimensional. As one critic explains, Kureishi challenges the belief that British-Asian people must fit into a single, “authentic” version of who they are (Shapiro Library).

Sexuality further complicates Karim’s sense of belonging. London appears more open than the suburbs, but acceptance has limits. Karim explores his attraction to both men and women, but his family reacts harshly. When his father discovers Karim with Charlie, he responds with anger and insults (Kureishi). The ideas about masculinity still restrict personal freedom, even in a modern city, due to culture and personal beliefs that create a box. Karim’s sexuality becomes another reason he feels unsure of where he belongs in post-war England.

When compared to other characters in the course, Karim’s experience is it's own unique twist of the same topics we have been exploring. Stevens in The Remains of the Day struggles mostly with class and duty, not race or sexuality. His identity as a butler gives him structure, even though it costs him emotional connection (Ishiguro). Antoinette in Wide Sargasso Sea faces racial and gender discrimination that leaves her known as a 'mad woman' and is ultimately isolated, especially when she is judged by English standards she can never meet (Rhys). Karim’s struggle is different from the other two because he is constantly asked to explain himself in order to be accepted. The other two were not given the chance to do so. 

Being British is not fixed—it depends on who you are, where you live, and how others see you. Not so different from today's America, yeah?

Works Cited

Bend It Like Beckham. Directed by Gurinder Chadha, performance by Parminder Nagra, Twentieth Century Fox, 2002. 

Ishiguro, Kazuo. The Remains of the Day. Vintage International, 1989.

Kureishi, Hanif. The Buddha of Suburbia. Penguin Books, 1990.

Never Have I Ever. Created by Mindy Kaling and Lang Fisher, performance by Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, Netflix, 2020–2023.

Rhys, Jean. Wide Sargasso Sea. W. W. Norton & Company, 1966.

Shapiro Library. “Hanif Kureishi and ‘The Brown Man’s Burden.’” Southern New Hampshire University, Shapiro Library.

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Both The Remains of the Day and Michael Apted’s Up documentary series show that class continues to matter in Britain, even as society changes throughout the twentieth century. Although one is a novel and the other is a documentary, both reveal how class expectations and implicit biases shape what people believe they can do and who they think they can become.

In The Remains of the Day, the class system appears in an older, more traditional form. Stevens, the butler, has completely absorbed the class values of early-twentieth-century Britain. He believes that dignity means knowing his place and putting his employer’s needs above his own (Ishiguro, 1989). Because he assumes that upper-class men are naturally wiser and more moral, he never questions Lord Darlington’s actions. This class bias leads him to support political meetings that spread Nazi influence, and it also causes him to suppress his emotions so deeply that he cannot confess his feelings for Miss Kenton until it is too late. Through Stevens, Ishiguro shows how class expectations can damage both a person’s judgement and, ultimately, their personal happiness.

The Up series presents a Britain where class is somewhat more flexible but still very powerful. Walley (2013) explains that the first film portrayed class as a set of fixed “boxes,” such as wealthy boys in private schools, working-class children, and boys raised in a children’s home. Over the years, many of the children grow up to live the futures the documentary predicted, but some break away from expectations, like Nick, who grows up on a farm but becomes a nuclear physicist, and Sue, a working-class girl who becomes a university programme administrator (Walley, 2013). These examples show the tension between what society expects and what individuals are capable of achieving outside their “class” boxes.

John claims that class no longer matters and says his success is mostly due to his own talent. However, his path was supported by both cultural and economic capital (Walley, 2013). Some working-class participants say they “did what [they] wanted,” which Walley reads as a way of protecting the value of their lives, not as evidence that everyone had the same opportunities. Their feelings about class become especially clear when they talk about their children: they acknowledge that their own chances were limited, yet they support their children even when their choices keep them in the same class position (Walley, 2013).

The filmmaker’s perspective also introduces bias. Apted, who came from a middle-class background, sometimes frames working-class choices as failures. For example, he pressures Tony to admit he never succeeded as a jockey or actor, and he asks Symon whether he is “worth more” than manual labour. Some participants push back, especially Jackie, who challenges Apted’s belief that moving up the class ladder is the only meaningful sign of success (Walley, 2013). This dynamic suggests that class expectations may operate through the very stories people tell about one another.

It reminds me of a philosopher, Zhuang Zhou, who observes fish swimming freely and declares, “This is the joy of fish.” His friend Huizi challenges him, saying, “You are not a fish; how do you know the joy of fish?” The story reflects the difficulty of truly understanding another being’s perspective—something Apted also struggles with when interpreting the lives of his participants.

Both works argue that class continues to shape how people see their futures and what they believe they deserve. Stevens’ loyalty to the upper class keeps him from recognising his own moral responsibility and from pursuing personal happiness. In the Up series, participants still face class-based limits, even when those limits are described as personal choices. Whether it is Stevens trying to live up to an outdated ideal of service or Jackie defending the value of her life to a filmmaker from a higher class, both works show that class is more than a label.

Works Cited

Apted, M. (Director). (1964–2012). The Up Series [Documentary film series]. 

Ishiguro, K. (1989). The remains of the day. https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/remains/

Roger T. Ames & Takahiro Nakajima, eds. 2015, Zhuangzi and the Happy Fish. https://pages.ucsd.edu/~dkjordan/chin/LaoJuang/JoyOfFishe.html

Walley, C. (2013). Class diaries: Reflections on Michael Apted’s Up series. Public Books. https://www.publicbooks.org/class-diaries-reflections-on-michael-apteds-up-series/

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In the early twentieth century, British identity began to shift. Instead of being based on family traditions tied to the land, identity became shaped by city life—by travel, shopping, and how people presented themselves to others. Read together, Seamus Heaney’s “Digging,” Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway in Bond Street, and T. S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” show this change. They trace a movement from rural pride in physical work to fast-paced urban living and the self-doubt that sometimes came with it. The rapid growth of cities during the Second Industrial Revolution explains why city life felt both exciting and stressful, which I personally can relate too in our modern day of technology at our fingertips (OpenStax, 2022).

Heaney’s poem focuses on rural life and family history. The speaker watches his father and grandfather dig in the fields and feels connected to them through the sounds and smells of the earth (Heaney, 1966). But by the end, he chooses to “dig” with his pen instead of a shovel. The tradition of hard work remains, but it becomes creative work instead of farming that takes heart. I think in some ways this reflects the real shift in society as many people left the countryside to work in factories and offices in larger growing cities.

Woolf’s story shows London as a busy city ruled by the steady toll of Big Ben. The streets are full of cars, shops, and crowds. Clarissa notices how time has changed everything and even gloves are lower in quality after the war. When Clarissa repeats “Fear no more” and sits up straight after a loud explosion, she shows how city life expects people to stay calm and composed no matter what. Industrial cities offered entertainment, stores, and new public spaces, but also crowding, pollution, and sharp class differences (OpenStax, 2022). The London shop windows that fascinate Clarissa show the reader the rise of department stores and window-shopping, where simply looking could shape how a person's environment changed.

T.S. Eliot takes the city inward, showing how it affects the mind. His city is foggy, lonely, and full of depression. Prufrock constantly asks, “Do I dare?” and feels unsure of himself (Eliot, 1915). He says he has “measured out life with coffee spoons”, mocking how modern life can become repetitive and controlled. Prufrock feels lost in a world where he must “prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet”. The crowded city offers opportunity, but also pressure, judgment, and that 'rat-race' people used to talk about.

Change does not erase our past; instead, it challenges us to reshape who we are within new circumstances. That is the main idea I took from these readings this week. In each text, the characters and speakers carry their history with them, even as they face a world that is rapidly shifting around them. 

What stood out to me most is how similar this feels to life today. We also live in a time of constant change, especially with technology, social media, and global movement. Just like people in the early twentieth century, we are often balancing where we come from with who we are becoming. The excitement of new opportunities can exist right alongside feelings of pressure, uncertainty, or loss. 

References:

Eliot, T. S. (1915). The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Poetry Foundation. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44212/the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock

Heaney, S. (1966). Digging. Poetry Foundation. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47555/digging

OpenStax. (2022). 10.2 Life in the industrial city. In World history, volume 2. https://openstax.org/books/world-history-volume-2/pages/10-2-life-in-the-industrial-city

Woolf, V. (1923). Mrs Dalloway in Bond Street. The Dial, 75 (July–Dec.), 5–14. Project Gutenberg. https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/63107/pg63107-images.html

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Horses and Castles: From Empire to Identity

British children’s fantasy books often do more than tell exciting stories because they also teach young readers how to think about power, identity, and what it means to belong to their nation or culture. During the twentieth century, Britain experienced major change as it shifted from a powerful empire to a post-imperial country becoming more culturally diverse and liberal. These changes can be seen echoing within its modern and past literature read by children of the past, and today.

Two novels that show this shift within their character’s are C. S. Lewis’s The Horse and His Boy (1954) and Diana Wynne Jones’s Howl’s Moving Castle (1986). Although both novels follow young protagonists on magical journeys, they present very different ideas about identity, power, and belonging thanks to being written within two very different times in history. It’s for this reason The Horse and His Boy reflects imperial British values based on racial hierarchy, destiny, and fixed identity, while Howl’s Moving Castle reflects post-imperial British values based on personal choice, ethical responsibility, and flexible identity. By using postcolonial theory and historical context, British fantasy literature can be seen as changed along with British national identity in the forty years between both books.

When Lewis wrote The Horse and His Boy in 1954, Britain was beginning to lose its empire-status as colonizers. India had gained independence only a few years earlier, and many other colonies soon followed. Even though political control was fading, imperial beliefs about hierarchy, race, and national superiority were still deeply rooted in British culture. According to Naomi Wood, British children’s literature during this time often presented empire as “natural” and presented British people as rightful leaders. These books trained young readers to see hierarchy and control as normal parts of the world (Wood).

In contrast, Howl’s Moving Castle, published in 1986, reflects a Britain that no longer defined itself through empire. Social systems have changed even between 1986 and 2025, and identity is no longer defined wholly by birth, sex, or social rank. Jones signals this shift immediately by parodying inherited fate: as she writes it is “a misfortune to be born the eldest of the three,” because everyone “knows you are the one who will fail first” (Jones). This start to the narrative sets Sophie up as someone who believes one thing, then chooses to be the complete opposite of what she’d once thought when she learns differently. Instead of destiny making a hero of Sophie, Jones treats destiny as a script that can be questioned and resisted by a character who thinks beyond their thought culture or narrative.

Postcolonial scholars argue that empires survive not only through violence but through how people imagine the world. Aishwarya Subramanian explains that Narnia repeatedly centers an elevated European viewpoint that presents the land as visible, knowable, and therefore implicitly controllable. The author of the paper argues that the “whole of Narnia is bounded by human, British subjectivity,” meaning the world becomes legible mainly through British perception (Subramanian). Subramanian connects this to what Mary Louise Pratt calls the logic of “anti-conquest,” which lets European figures appear benevolent while maintaining authority: it allows the European subject “to secure their innocence in the same moment as they assert European hegemony” (Subramanian). This is exactly the kind of structural innocence Lewis builds into Narnia, where “benign rule” by British-aligned monarchs is contrasted with “overt tyranny” by “often-Orientalized” colonizers (Subramanian).

This framework clarifies how Lewis frames power as morally acceptable when it comes from the “right” rulers. In The Horse and His Boy, Aslan does not simply guide Shasta; he claims total authorship over his life and the narrative of the entire story. Aslan later tells Shasta that every major turning point in the plot was his doing: “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis… I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear” (Lewis). Read through Subramanian’s lens, this kind of providential narration resembles imperial “stewardship,” in which control is portrayed as protective rather than coercive (Subramanian). Even when Shasta is told his pain matters, the logic remains hierarchical: “I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own” (Lewis). The message reassures the character, but it also narrows identity into a single authorized story granted by the “God-chosen” character.

Subramanian further argues that Narnia’s apparent timelessness supports this imperial legibility. Even though thousands of years pass between the children’s visits throughout the entire series, “Narnia’s material culture, norms, language, and fashions remain entirely constant,” so the land stays “immediately accessible and knowable” to returning British children (Subramanian). This stagnation is not neutral; it ensures the fantasy world remains readable through British assumptions. As Subramanian notes, portal fantasy can “fix” settings into a permanent “unchangingness,” making “fantasyland… Orientalized into the ‘unchanging past’” (Subramanian). This helps explain why Lewis’s identity model is fixed: Shasta does not invent himself, he is revealed by Aslan.

Ainhize Vela Galicia analyzes The Horse and His Boy using the idea of the “Hero’s Journey.” She shows that Shasta follows a traditional heroic path shaped by destiny, struggle, and final reward. His journey leads him to his “true” identity as a northern king. This supports the idea that Lewis presents identity as something discovered, not chosen. Shasta does not become a king because of his choices, but rather Aslan’s choices. He becomes king because he was always meant to be one. His identity is fixed by birth and bloodline, not by worth or morals, despite Aslan providing the children with a sense of worth (Vela Galicia).

Marvin Hinten explains that Lewis creates a strong cultural divide between the northern lands of Narnia and Archenland and the southern land of Calormen. Narnia is shown as good, noble, and fair, while Calormen is shown as cruel, dark, and dangerous. These descriptions match old British stereotypes of Middle Eastern cultures. Language, clothing, and behavior all mark the Calormenes as “Other.” This reflects what Naomi Wood describes as a pattern in British children’s literature where foreign cultures are shown as immoral while British-based cultures are shown as superior (Hinten; Wood). Lewis even generalizes moral capacity through enslavement, claiming that one of the worst results of slavery is losing “the power of forcing yourself” once no one compels you (Lewis). The line reads like a moral warning, but it also frames enslaved people as internally weakened—an idea that historically served imperial “civilizing” narratives.

Subramanian’s attention to mapping and aerial gaze also strengthens this imperial reading. She notes that secondary worlds are often circumscribed by cartographic authority: maps “fix the interpretation of a landscape” (Subramanian). She points out that Lewis repeatedly introduces Narnia through height and distance, describing terrain “spread out like a map” (Subramanian). This matters because representing space as blank can “actively erase… existing social and geo-cultural formations” (Subramanian). In other words, the fantasy gaze can quietly naturalize the logic of terra nullius—land as available once it is seen from above and narrated by the “right” observer (Subramanian).

Some readers argue that Lewis is against empire because many of his stories show tyrants being overthrown, like Narnia and Archenland overthrowing their opposition. At first, it seems like The Horse and His Boy supports a dual cultural identity; however, Subramanian explains that Lewis often uses a technique that allows British characters to appear innocent while remaining in control. The series can condemn violent colonizers while still preserving British authority through “anti-conquest,” projecting exploitation onto “convenient non-White others” (Subramanian). Violence and cruelty are blamed on foreign characters like the Calormenes in almost every book in the series, while northern rulers are presented as kind and rightful. This means Lewis does not reject the idea of rule itself; he only insists to young minds that the “right” people should rule. Therefore, the system of hierarchy remains intact (Subramanian).

Unlike Shasta, Sophie Hatter is not born special. She is not destined for greatness. At the start of Howl’s Moving Castle, she is shy, unsure of herself, and trapped by her own low expectations. Sophie’s sense that life happens elsewhere, “interesting things did seem to happen, but always to somebody else” (Jones) captures the quiet social scripting Jones critiques. Somkid and Yimwilai explain Sophie’s journey using psychological identity theory. They show that Sophie moves from confusion to confidence through experience, work, courage, and relationships. Her identity forms through what she does and not who she was born as. When Sophie is magically turned into an old woman, she becomes more confident. Losing youth and beauty frees her to speak honestly and act bravely, thus emphasizing that identity in Jones’s novel is flexible and shaped by experience (Somkid and Yimwilai).

Jane Hiddleston, using philosopher Emmanuel Levinas, explains that true ethics come from openness to other people, not control over them. Levinas argues that systems that try to lock people into fixed roles always fail. Lewis’s world reflects what Levinas calls “Totality”—a system where everyone has a fixed role based on race, nation, or species. Jones’s world instead reflects “openness.” Characters such as Howl, Sophie, and Calcifer are flawed, changeable, and morally complex. Jones’s ethical model is captured in the line “a heart’s a heavy burden,” which reframes love as responsibility rather than romantic destiny (Jones). Even Howl’s cowardice becomes part of moral honesty: he admits the only way he can do frightening things is to “tell myself I’m not doing it” (Jones). Identity in Howl’s Moving Castle is shaped through relationships and choices, not hierarchy (Hiddleston).

Lewis teaches readers to accept natural hierarchy and destiny.

Jones teaches readers to question authority and build identity through choice.

This is how British fantasy fiction written forty years apart mirrors Britain’s movement from imperial certainty to post-imperial self-reflection. These books still influence how young readers in 2025 think about power, race, sex, and identity. Lewis’s story quietly allows readers to accept hierarchy as natural or normal, if the ruler is a “chosen one” ready to lead justly (Wood). Jones’s story teaches readers to question power, keep their values, and build fortified relationships (Somkid and Yimwilai).

The Horse and His Boy reflects a British world shaped by empire, racial hierarchy, and destiny. Howl’s Moving Castle reflects a post-imperial Britain focused on choice, ethics, and personal growth. Together, these novels show that British identity is not permanent. It is fluid and changes with history, culture, and modernized storytelling. And because literature shapes how people think, these stories will continue to shape how young readers understand power, identity, and belonging today.

Works Cited

Hinten, Marvin D. “‘Myself’: Allusions in ‘The Horse and His Boy.’” The Lamp-Post of the Southern California C.S. Lewis Society, vol. 27, no. 2, 2003, pp. 13–22. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/45349757. Accessed 2 Dec. 2025.

Hiddleston, J. (2009). Understanding Postcolonialism (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315711669

Jones, Diana Wynne. Howl’s Moving Castle. 1986. Greenwillow Books, 2001.

Lewis, C. S. The Horse and His Boy. 1954. HarperCollins, 1980.

OpenStax. “Life in the Industrial City.” World History, Volume 2: From 1400, 2022. https://openstax.org/books/world-history-volume-2/pages/10-2-life-in-the-industrial-city

Somkid, P., and S. . Yimwilai. “The Quest for Identity in Howl’s Moving Castle”. Journal of Social Sciences and Humanities Research in Asia, vol. 26, no. 1, May 2020, pp. 77-100, https://so05.tci-thaijo.org/index.php/psujssh/article/view/251958.

Subramanian, A. (2019). “The Whole Country Below Them”: Gazing Imperially on Narnia From Above. Space and Culture, 23(4), 370-381. https://doi.org/10.1177/1206331219845306 

Wood, Naomi. Review of Empire's Children: Empire and Imperialism in Classic British Children's Books. The Lion and the Unicorn, vol. 26 no. 1, 2002, p. 126-130. Project MUSE, https://dx.doi.org/10.1353/uni.2002.0015.

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LIT-319: Modern Day Journal of Katherina Minola (Module 3 Journal)

September 19, 2025 My Bedroom

Remember when Taylor Swift got called a snake by everyone in 2018 and then basically disappeared for a bit? I can’t blame her. The world branded her with one word and expected her to crawl away in shame. And for a while, she did, but I don’t blame her for it. I feel like I understand her more than anything.

Apparently, I’m a “shrew.” That’s my whole brand now, courtesy of this delightful arranged-marriage situation my Baba is planning. Baba doesn’t know everyone calls me a shrew because of the very man he expects me to marry. 

Snake! – Kanye to Taylor.

Shrew! – Petruchio to me.

People hardly bother with my actual name anymore; it’s easier to reduce me to a shrew, I guess. But here’s the thing…Taylor took “snake” and built her award-winning album Reputation out of it; she turned insult into anthem. It’s one of her most iconic albums.

So, fine. If the world wants a shrew, I’ll give them one.

Snap, snarl, scowl, repeat.

At least then I’m the one who controls the narrative.

But the truth? I’m not actually a shrew. I just have opinions. Allah forbids a girl from having options, opinions, and a fondness for debate. A raised eyebrow here, a sharp word there, and suddenly I’ve turned into public enemy number one.

My future husband would disagree.

I can’t forget that.

My so-called “shrewishness” is armor. It blunts the sharpest retort; it muffles the cruelest laughter and keeps hurtful words at bay. I think it’s better to be feared than be pitied. And yes, most people fear me…or at least find me intimidating enough to keep their distance.

But then there’s Petruchio.

Loud, insufferable Petruchio, who doesn’t flinch from my bite. He treats my cutting words like theatre, like his own personal entertainment. He claps for the performance and then still insists on marrying me. I slash him with words like knives and he just…laughs. Worse, he comes back…pressing, pursuing, and refusing to be shaken by me.

Again.

And again.

It’s never-ending really.

Part of me despises it. Another part, the part I’d rather bury, wonders if maybe he sees through the armor. If maybe he recognizes something softer beneath, a truth I’ve buried so long I’ve nearly forgotten it myself.

Those pieces (fragile, tender, unguarded) are more like my sister Bianca. Pieces that dream of gentleness, of simple evenings filled with kindness rather than combat. I keep them hidden because if I let him see that girl, the one who aches for softness in the quiet of night, then he’d have the power to wound me more deeply than anyone else ever could.

Because to know me is to break me.

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LIT-319 Final Paper

From Athens to Hogwarts to K-Pop:

Love Potions, Demons, and Other Magical Mischief

Supernatural magic in A Midsummer Night’s Dream dramatizes the irrationality of love and the uncontrollable forces shaping human desire. Shakespeare uses mischievous fairies, enchanted forests, and love potions to highlight how quickly affection can shift when manipulated by powers outside human control. His playful use of magic contrasts with Elizabethan anxieties about witchcraft and spirits and yet, it also mirrors them in its fascination with the great unknown.

Elizabethan audiences, who were steeped in superstition, found both allure and fear in stories of fairies, demons, and witches (Bladen & Brailowsky, 2020). BBC Teach notes that “Even in Shakespeare’s day people were extremely superstitious. During the Elizabethan era people blamed unexplainable events such as the Bubonic Plague, unexplained deaths or unpleasant illnesses – as the work of witches” (BBC Teach, 2025). Shakespeare’s genius was to reframe these dark cultural fears as comedic mischief rather than existential threat, offering his audiences the chance to laugh at forces they might otherwise dread.

Shakespeare’s treatment of magical interference in love is both timeless and adaptable. By softening Elizabethan fears of witchcraft into a comic exploration of relationships, he helped set the stage (literally and figuratively) for future storytellers. From Rowling’s tragic love potion in Harry Potter to the demonic seductions in K-Pop Demon Hunters, the same theme of magical manipulation continues to reveal humanity’s unease with love’s irrationality.

Elizabethan society was deeply concerned with the supernatural. Folklore, sermons, and pamphlets frequently described fairies and witches, inciting both allure and distress (Bladen, V., & Brailowsky, Y. 2020). During the Elizabethan era people blamed unexplainable events such as plague and deformities, unexplained deaths or unpleasant illnesses as the work of witches or magic (“Shakespeare, Witchcraft and the Supernatural,” 2025). While accusations of witchcraft could be deadly, Shakespeare uses comedy of magic for his audience rather than tragedy in Midsummer. His fairies embody playful chaos rather than genuine threats, which was more in line with the highlander’s belief in mischievous spirits who stole shoes and played tricks on unsuspecting folk (Bladen & Brailowsky, 2020). Audiences were likely drawn to the play’s lighthearted treatment of magic in a time when being a witch or demon could have resulted in your burning at the stake.

Ultimately, magic continues to shape stories of love well beyond Shakespeare’s time, reflecting timeless anxieties about desire and control. Shakespeare integrates supernatural magic into every plotline of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The most prominent example is Oberon’s love potion, which Puck applies mistakenly to Lysander’s eyes, leading him to fall in love with Helena. As Lysander declares: “The will of man is by his reason swayed, / And reason says you are the worthier maid” (Shakespeare, 2004c). He’s stating that his will is predetermined and cannot be swayed; he does not question the sudden change beyond knowing he is now in love with Helena. This sudden reversal of affection demonstrates how magic influences the characters’ rational choices and creates chaos in the various established human relationships.

Similarly, Demetrius, who had originally pursued Hermia, suddenly becomes enamored with Helena after receiving the potion as well. Poor Helena, overwhelmed by the sudden attention from both males, cries, “O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent / To set against me for your merriment / if you were civil and knew courtesy, you would not do me thus much injury…” (Shakespeare). She is cursing the irrationality of love, while Shakespeare generates comedy from Helena’s assumption that she is the victim of male mockery rather than believing that Demetrius might be enchanted since they are in a fantastical wood.

Placed in its cultural context, Shakespeare’s decision to present fairies as mischievous rather than malicious represents a departure from the darker portrayals of witchcraft in Elizabethan culture. Indeed, Elizabethan audiences, wary of witchcraft trials and sermons condemning sorcery, could enjoy the play because it framed magic as a source of amusement rather than real-world fear and terror. Theatres were society entertainment, where the supernatural could be explored without threatening social order or expectations, like how society today watches TV shows like Stranger Things and The Walking Dead. By presenting Oberon and Puck as tricksters rather than villains, Shakespeare engaged with audiences that magic could be playful, even fun!

Magic appears elsewhere in Shakespeare’s works as well, though with very different effects. In Macbeth, the witches manipulate fate through prophecy, telling Macbeth he “shalt be king hereafter,” a prediction that spurs paranoia, violence, and tyranny (Shakespeare, 2004). Unlike Oberon and Puck in Midsummer, who disrupt love for comedy, the witches create tragedy by weaponizing the supernatural to erode human reason. This contrast shows Shakespeare’s versatility: he could turn the same cultural fear of witchcraft into either laughter or horror depending on genre.

A similar dynamic emerges in Romeo and Juliet, where the supernatural is less explicit but fate and dream imagery drive the tragic love story. Romeo himself declares, “I fear too early, for my mind misgives / Some consequence yet hanging in the stars” (Shakespeare, 2004). Here, destiny functions much like Oberon’s potion or Macbeth’s prophecy: an unseen force disrupting human will. Together, these works show that Shakespeare repeatedly returned to the theme of forces beyond human control—sometimes to amuse, sometimes to terrify, but always to investigate the instability of human desire.

Supernatural magic continues to be applied in modern literature and media. In the early 2000’s kids were reading fantasy exclusively, being drawn to the unexplained and magical worlds. In today’s day and age, fantasy and romance have rebounded in pop culture. Two significant examples from two different eras are J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series from the early 2000’s and the 2025 Netflix animated film K-Pop Demon Hunters.

In Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Rowling introduces one of the darkest uses of supernatural magic in her series through the story of Merope Gaunt. Desperate to escape her abusive family and to bind the handsome Tom Riddle to her, Merope resorts to a love potion, or an act of magical coercion designed to create a relationship that does not exist naturally. At first, the potion seems successful: Riddle believes he is in love with her, marries her, and even lives with her for a time. Yet the illusion was fragile. Once Merope allows the potion to wear off after getting pregnant, the fabricated bond shatters, leaving Riddle horrified at his situation: “He left her, never saw her again, and never troubled to discover what became of his son” (Rowling, 2005).

This storyline mirrors Oberon’s manipulation of the Athenian lovers in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, where the use of a love potion causes irrational, unexplained shifts of affection. Shakespeare presents this situation as a source of comedy, drawing humor from mismatched love and mistaken desires. Yet Rowling reimagines the trope as a tragedy. Merope’s attempt to force affection through magic compels readers to confront difficult ethical questions about consent and the moral limits of love.

In Shakespeare’s play, Oberon ultimately seeks restoration and harmony, instructing Puck to reverse the enchantments that played with love:

“Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error with his might, And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. … And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, With league whose date till death shall never end” (Shakespeare, 2004).

Oberon’s intervention ensures that the lovers are reconciled, their temporary chaos resolved into lasting unity. Merope’s actions, by contrast, generate devastation rather than reconciliation: her potion leads not to restored harmony but to abandonment, tragedy, and the birth of Voldemort, a figure incapable of love who becomes the series villain. Rowling makes this connection explicit, remarking that everything would have changed if Merope had survived and raised him herself and loved him (Anelli, 2007). In other words, Voldemort’s incapacity to love is rooted in his very origins. He was conceived without genuine affection, and he was deprived of maternal care, so he grows into the antithesis of the very force that defines Rowling’s series.

In Midsummer, love potions destabilize relationships but ultimately restore them, resolving anxieties about the irrationality of desire with laughter. In Rowling’s narrative, however, the potion becomes a symbol of perverse manipulation. Both works examine the vulnerability of human emotions to magical forces, but in different ways, and both ways work well in the sense of comedy vs. epic.

K-Pop Demon Hunters situates supernatural magic within a post-internet, globalized cultural framework. The animated musical follows Huntr/x, a K-pop group who must navigate their public lives as K-pop idols while secretly fighting against demonic forces trying to steal human souls. Much like Athens versus the enchanted forest in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the film constructs dual realms: the visible, human world of pop performance and the concealed, magical world of demons. This use of geolocational cues helps the audience in Midsummer imagine the magic existing alongside Athens, in what Johnson (2020) calls a locus amœnus. Similarly in K-Pop Demon Hunters, Huntr/x exists in the human world, but the demons exist alongside them and cause mischief, much like Puck, hidden from the view of Huntr/x’s audience.

The film also explores the theme of emotional manipulation, directly echoing Oberon and Puck’s disruptive potions in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In one memorable song, the demons sing, “You know I’m the only one who’ll love your sins; Feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin,” using the song as both seduction and assault in their attempt to prevent Huntr/x from sealing the barrier between worlds. Their voices have a magical quality that makes humans go into a trance, and do anything the demons say, leaving them susceptible to ruined relationships.

For a brief time, Jinu (a demon) appears to admire Rumi’s bravery and resilience, impressed by her defiance of her demon marks and her loyalty to the other two Huntr/x members. Yet this intimacy is originally deceptive. Jinu ultimately betrays Rumi, turning her compassion into a weakness. He manipulates her devotion, transforming two demons into false images of her friends and forcing her to expose her demon lines to the world. In doing so, her love and trust, once her greatest sources of strength, became vulnerabilities that were exploited.

This fraught relationship between Rumi and Jinu recalls Helena’s anguished cry in A Midsummer Night’s Dream: “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind / And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind” (Shakespeare, 2004c). Helena delivers these lines during a monologue as she reflects on her unrequited love for Demetrius. She is expressing that love is often irrational and does not adhere to logical rules. Just as Helena’s misplaced love blinds her, Rumi’s faith in Jinu blinds her to his secrets and lies. Both works portray magic as a destabilizing force that reshapes emotional reality, raising enduring questions about the authenticity of love and the ease with which it could be corrupted by manipulation, magic or not.

When compared with Shakespeare’s works, Harry Potter and K-Pop Demon Hunters reflect cultural concerns unique to their times. Shakespeare used comedy to soften Elizabethan fears about witchcraft by aligning it with a love story; Rowling highlights ethics and consent in her story by making the potion the leading cause of the antagonist’s slip into evil; and K-pop Demon Hunters situates supernatural themes within the modern culture, exploring how magic intersects with identity, performance, and love. Despite these differences, all three works share a fascination with how magic influences forces outside human control like love and friendship.

Supernatural magic remains a vibrant theme in literature and media because it captures a universal truth: love and human behavior are often shaped by forces we cannot control. Whether we call it fate, fortune, or fairies—we are all susceptible to it. Shakespeare’s ability to blend cultural anxieties with comic relief explains why his legacy still endures in contemporary culture.

The echoes of Oberon’s potion are unmistakable in Rowling’s tragic love potion and in the demonic seductions of K-Pop Demon Hunters. Each retelling reflects its own cultural moment: Shakespeare softened witchcraft fears with laughter, Rowling provoked ethical questions about consent, and K-pop Demon Hunters staged the supernatural within the hyper-modern world of pop stardom and identity. In each case, Shakespeare’s legacy shapes how love and magic are performed, questioned, and reimagined in today’s society where science, technology, and reason are looked to as fact.

Looking ahead, Shakespeare’s influence is unlikely to fade. Even as technology invents new “magic” like artificial intelligence and virtual reality, future storytellers will continue to wrestle with the same complexities about love, control, and desire. Just as Shakespeare’s audiences found comfort in seeing their superstitions reframed on stage, our own era will keep turning to art and music as a guide for imagining how the irrational and the supernatural shape what it means to be human.

References

Anelli, M. (2007, July 30). J.K. Rowling web chat transcript. The-Leaky-Cauldron.org. https://www.the-leaky-cauldron.org/2007/7/30/j-k-rowling-web-chat-transcript/

BBC Teach. (2025). Shakespeare, witchcraft and the supernatural. https://www.bbc.co.uk/teach/articles/zvfyd6f

Besson, A. (2025). Shakespeare and fantasy: A magical story. Bibliothèque nationale de France. https://fantasy.bnf.fr/en/understand/shakespeare-and-fantasy-magical-story/

Bladen, V., & Brailowsky, Y. (2020). Shakespeare and the supernatural. Manchester University Press.

Creighton, J. E. (2011). Pity those who live without love: The function of love in Harry Potter (Master’s thesis, State University of New York College at Brockport). SUNY Open Access Repository. https://soar.suny.edu/handle/20.500.12648/6283

Johnson, L. (2020). Puck, Philostrate and the locus of A Midsummer Night’s Dream’s topical allegory. In V. Bladen & Y. Brailowsky (Eds.), Shakespeare and the supernatural (pp. 157–172). Manchester University Press.

Rowling, J. K. (2005). Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Scholastic.

Shakespeare, W. (2004a). Macbeth (B. A. Mowat & P. Werstine, Eds.; Updated ed.). Folger Shakespeare Library.

Shakespeare, W. (2004b). Romeo and Juliet (B. A. Mowat & P. Werstine, Eds.; Updated ed.). Folger Shakespeare Library.

Shakespeare, W. (2004c). A Midsummer Night’s Dream (B. A. Mowat & P. Werstine, Eds.; Updated ed.). Folger Shakespeare Library.

Netflix. (2025). K-Pop Demon Hunters [Film]. Netflix Studios.

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LIT-319 Milestone One

"Supernatural Magic"

The theme of supernatural magic is central to William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Bothersome fairies, enchanted forests, and spells drive the plot and highlight how love and human behavior are influenced by forces beyond our control. In Shakespeare’s late sixteenth-century context, the supernatural carried both fear and fascination; audiences believed in fairies, witches, and unseen powers (BBC, 2025). Rather than presenting these figures as terrifying, Shakespeare makes them playful troublemakers who stir up trouble for humans in a realistic Athens in a comedic and chaotic way (Johnson, 2020).

The supernatural theme appears in every major plotline of the play. Oberon’s love potion causes Hermia, Lysander, Demetrius, and Helena to fall in and out of love, creating a love-square of mismatched couples. Bottom’s transformation into a donkey-headed man adds humor, while also reflecting anxieties at the time about unnatural change and dark magic. By writing his story into both illusion and a believable reality, Shakespeare’s work suggests that love itself is unpredictable, irrational, and magical.

Ultimately, supernatural magic is a prominent theme in A Midsummer Night’s Dream because it reflects humanity’s endless fascination with how love, fate, and emotion create and shape the life they live. While Shakespeare’s audience saw magic as both entertainment and danger, modern readers and viewers still turn to fantasy and magic to explore the same questions. From fairies to demons, to today’s push for more romantasy, the theme of magic continues to be loved by audiences because it captures the universal truth that our lives are shaped by forces that we cannot always control.

References

BBC. (2025). Shakespeare, witchcraft and the supernatural. BBC Teach. https://www.bbc.co.uk/teach/articles/zvfyd6f

Besson, A. (2025). Shakespeare and fantasy: A magical story. Bibliothèque nationale de France. https://fantasy.bnf.fr/en/understand/shakespeare-and-fantasy-magical-story/

Johnson, L. (2020). 7 Puck, Philostrate and the locus of A Midsummer Night’s Dream’s topical allegory. In V. Bladen & Y. Brailowsky (Eds.), Shakespeare and the supernatural (pp. 157–172). Manchester University Press.

Shakespeare, W. (2004). A midsummer night’s dream (B. A. Mowat & P. Werstine, Eds.; Updated ed.). Folger Shakespeare Library.

SparkNotes Editors. (2005). A midsummer night’s dream. SparkNotes. https://www.sparknotes.com/shakespeare/msnd/

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ENG-329 Reflective Final Essay

Writing “Leda” began as an experiment in myth storytelling but became more about the transformative power of chosen love. This course has shown me that the act of writing is inseparable from the act of revision, and that feedback, whether from peers or from my professor, is less about being “right” or “wrong” and more about sharpening intention. The journey from character sketch to short story draft was not linear; it was a conversation between influences, critique, and my own creative instincts. In the end, I discovered not only why this story needed to be written but also how the revision process has taught me to think as both a writer and a reviser.

One of the most influential stories I read was ZZ Packer’s “Brownies.” Packer’s use of contrasting characters (I was in love with the abrasive voices like Arnetta and Octavia against the quiet strength of Daphne) which demonstrated how contradiction within a group can illuminate theme. Daphne, though soft-spoken, carries profound weight in the story’s climax. This technique directly shaped how I approached Leda: a character defined not by loud declarations but by subtle gestures and quiet choices. Her retreat beneath the willow tree, her silence in most moments of the story, and her sacrifice are deliberate echoes of how quiet characters can carry unexpected power.

At the same time, I had to be mindful of audience. My intended readers are those who enjoy fairy tales, myth retellings, and gothic settings. I love readers who expect fairytale aesthetics, dreamy atmospheres, and written poetic resonance. To meet these expectations, I leaned on imagery and rhythm in the prose while grounding Leda’s supernatural curse in the deeply human themes of rejection and love.

The greatest difficulty I encountered was balancing lyrical description with narrative momentum. My professor reminded me that while my sentences often carried poetic weight, the heavy use of modifiers in the opening paragraphs created more confusion than clarity. His advice to pare description back and ground the story in immediate action helped me understand how to sharpen focus. This tension between “telling” and “showing” became my greatest difficulty, but also my clearest path for growth as a writer.

The peer review workshops also shaped “Leda” in essential ways. From Alyssa, I received the suggestion to deepen Leda’s family history. While I could not expand her mother’s presence due to page limits, Alyssa’s reminder helped me dive into how absence itself can shape character. From Nidhin, I gained the insight that Leda needed clearer reasons to view the intruders as “hunters.” His suggestion that she overhear Eric and Daisy clarified the stakes and provided a more cohesive logic to the family’s role in the story. Brittney encouraged me to expand Leda’s inner thoughts, reminding me that the silences in the draft were powerful but could resonate more deeply if balanced with carefully chosen glimpses into her emotions.

Not every piece of feedback fit the story I was tasked to write. Alyssa’s idea to expand Leda’s mother, or Nidhin’s request for more background on the townspeople, were strong suggestions but not workable within the fairy-tale tone and page constraints. Still, choosing what to set aside was as instructive as choosing what to include. The most helpful part of peer review was receiving encouragement alongside practical critique, while the most frustrating part was deciding how to maintain the delicate balance between clarity and mystery without sacrificing the dreamlike quality of the story.

Providing feedback to peers also changed how I see revision. With Chris’s sketch of Neville, I learned to think critically about how much historical detail to include versus how much to center the character. My suggestions about quirks and personal habits reflected my own belief in humanizing characters through small details. Later, I realized my suggestions did not fully align with Chris’s intent to make Neville a “protagonist as witness.” This taught me to listen more closely to a writer’s stated goals and to frame feedback in a way that respects their vision while offering concrete strategies. Ultimately, my professor’s comment that my draft read more like a “blueprint for a long movie” than a short story reframed how I thought about my short story writing ability. I now see actionable feedback as a balance of clarity and respect.

Through peer review, professor feedback, self-analysis, and reflection, I learned to discern what strengthens a story, what distracts from it, and how to articulate why it matters. For me, this reflective process has been an act of claiming my own voice as a writer, while still listening to the feedback of others.

Works Cited

Packer, ZZ. “Brownies.” 100 Years of the Best American Short Stories, edited by Lorrie Moore and Heidi Pitlor, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2015, pp. 556–572.

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Swan Upon Leda

ENG-329 Short Story Final

She is a prisoner of the moon.

Downy feathers unfurl from her skin the moment the pale orb rises, casting silver light across her small kingdom. White as moonlight itself, they spread, cloaking her shrinking frame. Rosy lips stiffen into orange; soft brown eyes glaze and darken. Fingers fuse, hands dissolve into wings, and her toes bind into webbing.

It feels as if it has always been this way.

Long ago, in a snowstorm, the moon goddess came to her father’s mansion on the lakeshore. Frost tinged the windows and boughs of evergreen cloaked the doorframe. Hidden in rags and behind her magic, the goddess begged for shelter from the snow. But she had been pampered, proud, and spoiled by her gilded life, so the swan had turned the goddess away.

Offended, the goddess retaliated. The curse fell as the bells of the Chapel in town far away rang for nightly mass. From that night forward, every time the moon climbed into the sky, she turned. In her naïve hope, she believed her father might save her. Yet the moment he saw flesh collapsing into feathers and his daughter morphing into a swan, his love soured into fear. He named her a witch, drew his crossbow, and spent the rest of his days chasing her pale shadow through the forests.

Her father’s mind shattered. He prowled the forests until madness hollowed him, and the mansion he once ruled over with pride began to rot. Its marble halls sagged with mildew, echoing not with music and laughter but with the groans of madness and the whispers of ghosts. The servants fled one by one, and all the while, she haunted the lake.

She hid well yet never strayed far; the curse tethered her to the lake. Should she fail to touch its waters when the moon ascended, death would claim her before the first rush of dawn.

The goddess’s curse had been deliberate; her decree etched into the girl’s mind: "Only an act of true love may break my spell. Not love of beauty, nor love of desire, but love born of understanding and of trust."

So, she endured.

Night after night: feathers where her skin should be, silence where her voice once sang.

Yet time, it continued moving like the tick-tock of the old mantel clock in her abandoned bedroom. The Moon kept vigil, in her long and merciless reign, yet as time grew the years, so did also form a protectiveness. The curse held fast, yes, but her life endured with it. No cruelty could trespass upon her watery court. Wolves and foxes could not come into her kingdom, sickness swept past her body for years, and even time itself faltered, unwilling to carve its lines upon her human skin.

Thus, suspended between life and death, she drifted.

Beyond the lake, the human world marched ceaselessly on. Roads split the earth where once only deer had passed, and smoke from distant chimneys smudged the horizon. Generations rose and withered like flowers in the wind, their lives brief sparks against her endless life.

Even the old mansion did not remain immune to time’s hunger. She watched from the shelter of the trees as strangers came to lay claim to its bones. But the manor itself endured, untouched, as though the goddess had made sure it remained protected as well. It became a waystation, inhabited by some and eventually abandoned, claimed and reclaimed, yet never truly home to any human who passed through.

At last, after long years of silence, someone came to claim the chateau as their own.

The man’s hair was spun gold, his curls catching moonlight as he got out of a moving thing made of metal. At his side walked a woman with hair black as a raven’s wing, her dark curls glimmering beneath the stars as she looked up at the home. In their arms they bore not one child, but two. Two children bundled in soft blankets, rosy-cheeked and wriggled, their tiny fists grasping at the night air.

They arrived beneath the moon’s gaze, and from her watery throne, the swan watched, head tilted in quiet speculation. She wondered if these humans would stay, and love the lake, as she did. The woman saw her first, a pale shape drifting across the mirrored lake. With one hand she steadied the infant in her arms, and with the other, she pointed eagerly.

“Oh, Eric—look! A swan. Isn’t she beautiful?”

The woman’s name was Daisy. Gentle yet unyielding, her laughter often drifted across the water, carrying warmth into the lonely place. With her golden-haired husband, she poured her time into the mansion, coaxing life back into its hollowed walls.

Stone by stone, window by window, hearth by hearth, the chateau was reborn. In time, its gardens stirred with color once more. The children grew swiftly alongside it, their childlike wonder bringing more enchantment to the swan’s kingdom.

The boy, Jimmy, was his mother’s reflection: dark curls tumbling over his brow, his laughter bubbling out in wild, unstoppable bursts. Fearless, he often rushed headlong to the lake, his little legs tearing through the grass, mud spattering as he splashed after frogs and tumbled through the reeds.

The girl, by contrast, was gentler, turned inward like a flower that bloomed only for a few lucky eyes. They called her Darling, and the name suited her. Bright copper pin curls clung to her head, catching the light like small flames, while her wide blue eyes carried the unblinking wonder of a dreamer. She lingered along the garden paths, arranging her dolls in perfect rows or threading daisy chains with patient, careful fingers.

It was the children who named the swan. They called her Leda, a name quickly embraced by Eric and Daisy. She no longer remembered her old name, not even a whisper of it, but this one stirred something in her chest.

Jimmy, bold and reckless, was the first to truly seek her out. Each night he stole breadcrumbs from the kitchen, his small fists clutching them as he scrambled down the banks without a trace of fear. He hunted for her where she lingered beneath the willow branches, its long green fronds trailing into the lake like curtains. There she hid her changing body, her skin rippling into feathers beneath the moonrise. He whistled as he came, tossing crumbs into the dark water until ripples carried them to her.

Darling, softer by nature, searched in daylight. Her wide blue eyes swept the surface of the lake as though hoping to catch a glimmer of white beneath the trees. She lingered often on the garden paths, her gaze fixed on the water’s edge, watching as her parent’s hosted parties and picnics along the shore. Musicians played, laughter rose, and yet Darling always looked past the gaiety, daydreaming beyond the parties and lavish lifestyle.

It was Daisy who spotted her in her human form first. Leda had slipped too far from cover, drifting like a pale phantom between the trees on the bordering forest. Daisy gasped, dropping the basket in her hands.

“Oh!” she cried, her voice sharp with surprise.

Roscoe, the family’s hound, barked furiously and rushed forward. Leda darted back into the shadows, her heart pounding, crouching inside a moss-covered cave of rock and dirt. From there she watched as Daisy searched every hollow, every tree, her skirts catching on briars, her brow furrowed. But the swan was a thief of time and thus, patient with it, so Daisy found nothing.

In time, each member of the household had their own strange meeting with her. Darling stumbled across her accidently. One afternoon, the young girl burst from the chateau in tears, fleeing into the gardens, and nearly turned her ankle on a stone path where Leda had been bending to smell the last roses of summer. Their eyes met for only a moment before Darling collapsed onto the grass, weeping. Leda slipped away like a phantom into the woods where she watched until Daisy arrived, scooping Darling up with a kiss meant to brush away tears.

Eric’s encounter came inside the forest. He was hunting deer, bow in hand, when he stepped silently through the underbrush and found her picking wildflowers. She hadn’t heard him approach. When she lifted her head, startled, their eyes locked—his widening in shock, hers dark with fear. He nearly shouted aloud, but she vanished in the long grass before his voice broke free.

At last, both Daisy and Eric saw her together. The sun was dying into a blood-red dusk, and Leda had slipped into the willow’s shadows to change back into a swan. They caught sight of her just before she folded herself into feathers, the transformation burning swift across her skin. By the time they reached the water’s edge, she floated there as a swan.

“I just don’t understand it,” Daisy whispered. “If we are all seeing this girl—we all cannot possibly have gone mad?”

Eric frowned. “Maybe it is a ghost.”

“I didn’t think ghosts existed until we moved here.” Daisy furrowed her brow as she added, “but I am finding it easier and easier to believe.”

And though Leda floated farther out, she stayed close enough to hear every word.

Eric tossed an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’ll tell the kids she’s a friend of Leda’s.”

Daisy laughed, her eyes sparkling up at her husband. “They do love the swan, don’t they?”

“I got Darling to do her writing practice last night because I told her Leda would want her to know her words.”

Leda watched the couple head back to the chateau, taking a deep breath that ruffled her feathers. The family always spoke fondly of Leda when she appeared in white feathers upon the water. And slowly, even in her own thoughts, she began to answer that name. Leda. A name shaped not by curses or time, but by a family who treated her kinder than she deserved.

That winter came harsher than any Leda had ever known. Bitter snow fell for weeks on end, burying the forests and fields until the whole world seemed frozen. The family huddled in their chateau, but they never forgot her. Eric trudged through drifts to leave food by the willow. Sometimes he lingered, a hammer in hand, strengthening the small shelter he had built against the trunk with scrap wood, so she’d take refuge from the storms. The children pressed their faces to the windows, waving whenever she flew across the frozen lake looking for a place to land.

One night, when the moon rode high over the snow, Leda saw movement at the forest’s edge. Two men crept from the shadows, their jackets black as crows. In their hands they carried the same long, gleaming instruments Eric used when he hunted pheasants and ducks. But these were not huntsmen after birds, no.

Leda watched as they moved toward the house, toward Daisy and Eric and the children.

Leda’s heart slammed against her ribs. She ruffled her wings, indecision clawing at her, for she had never brought attention to herself before. She had resigned to her fate. But when the intruders shattered the glass in the front door that Daisy and Eric had painstakingly put in last spring, something within her broke free.

With a wild cry she surged forward, wings beating the air like drums, lifting her off her throne and flying towards the men. She struck at them with furious pecks and claws, her feathers a white storm against the black of their jackets. The men cursed, stumbled, and fell into the snow. She tore at their hands until their weapons clattered to the ground, and at last they fled back into the forest.

When it was done, Leda collapsed into the snow, her body trembling, one wing bent and broken. Pain seared through her, yet she scarcely cared. Her family was safe. Never had she felt so loved, not even in the mansion of her youth with its warm fires and silver spoons. This family loved her not for beauty or money, but for her quiet heart. The front door burst open. Eric and Daisy rushed into the night, the children clinging wide-eyed behind them. Eric dropped to his knees in the snow, his hands reaching to cradle her fragile body. Panic struck her, and she thrashed weakly, desperate to flee back to the lake’s safety.

“She protected us,” Daisy whispered, awe dawning in her voice.

“Unbelievable.” Eric said, eyes wide with shock, “Have you ever heard of a swan to do such a thing?

Darling clung to her mother’s skirts singing, “She loves us too.”

The goddess’ words rang through Leda’s mind: Only an act of true love may break my spell.

Her breath caught. Moonlight surged through her veins, spilling into every feather until they shimmered like shards of diamond. Her plumage was dissolving into the air like bits of snow and for the first time in centuries, moonlight touched her skin, not her feathers.

A prisoner of the moon, no more.

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ENG-329 Module 4 - Milestone 1

Part One: Feedback Received

The peer feedback I found most useful was Alyssa’s encouragement to add depth to Leda’s family history, particularly her mother and father. She pointed out that mothers often leave an indelible mark on daughters, and that mentioning Leda’s mother could add another emotional layer. While my initial sketch noted that her mother died in childbirth, I had not considered how even the absence of a mother might shape Leda. I understand where Alyssa is coming from, and if I could add more pages to my short story, I would plan to emphasize that lack in her backstory. However, as we are limited to eight pages, the mother’s backstory will have to take a back seat for now…unless I get feedback to remove something next week that would leave room for it. I think it could do a good job of showing how her mother’s absence heightened Leda’s dependence on her father and made his eventual rejection even more devastating.

Another useful suggestion Alyssa gave was to clarify Leda’s father’s motivations. She asked whether his rejection and obsession with witchcraft accusations had roots in religion. That prompted me to sharpen his character as a devout Catholic lord who was both fearful of scandal and bound by reputation within the Church. This change strengthens his rejection of Leda, transforming it from a purely personal failure into a culturally and historically grounded one. His actions are not just cruel but also socially and spiritually motivated, which makes it more believable that he cut Leda out of his life.

Alyssa’s also gave a suggestion to expand more on why Leda cannot remember her original name, but can remember her father. She wondered whether Leda remembered him literally, or only the feelings associated with his betrayal. While I appreciated the insight, I had already given thought to this. Leda has lost proper nouns (names, places, dates) as part of the curse, but she retains emotional impressions and core memories. To me, this works symbolically, like an echo. Clarifying the distinction in the text risks breaking the dream-like quality I want to achieve.

Still, the most helpful part of the peer review process was receiving encouragement alongside constructive feedback. Alyssa’s enthusiasm for my sketch reassured me that Leda’s story came through as haunting, which is exactly what I intended. This validation gave me confidence, and her specific questions allowed me to uncover plot holes in my own writing.

Some of the questions went in directions I wasn’t planning to explore, but I understand why she brought them up. For example, developing the mother as an active figure in the story would add pages, so while it is good feedback, it’s just not feedback I can use. While her absence shapes Leda, I did not plan to weave her into the plot due to the page count. Not all feedback fits seamlessly into our plans, but I think it’s important to listen and learn from it where it can be applied. Still, the process was valuable because it reminded me that, as a writer, I need to weigh each piece of feedback carefully and adopt what improves the story and leave aside what isn’t necessary for the overall theme and narrative.

Part Two: Feedback I Gave

In providing feedback to Chris, I learned how crucial it is to balance historical detail with individual character development. Chris’s sketch of Neville was steeped in a well-researched WWI background, which gave the piece authenticity. However, I noticed that sometimes the historical exposition overshadowed the character Neville himself. While I do believe historical context can enrich a story (Like in Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children) I just don’t think that history should drown out the character’s voice.

I encouraged Chris to highlight Neville’s quirks, contradictions, and personal habits such as whether he had superstitions, nervous tics, or ways his aristocratic upbringing influenced daily choices. I love how small details can humanize a character or present an overarching characteristic, like always drinking tea before bed. This directly applies to my own writing with Leda. Although she is cursed, it is the little things (like retreating to the willow tree when she is angry or sad) that make her who she is.

When giving feedback, I tried to begin with respect for the strengths of Chris’s work. I praised his historical grounding, his authenticity, and the detail of Neville’s bond with his horse because I am a sucker for animals having roles in books. By encouraging him, I hoped to show that I valued the amazing thoughtfulness of research behind his sketch before suggesting improvements. Establishing that positive foundation allowed me to offer critiques in a way that felt constructive rather than discouraging.

From there, I built my suggestions around the idea of keeping Neville himself at the center of the narrative. I asked questions about his habits, his voice, and his arc, aiming to spark ideas rather than dictate changes. I also connected his aristocratic background to my own conflicting feelings about privilege, to show that I was engaging with his themes personally, not just academically.

Chris’s response confirmed that he saw Neville as more of a “protagonist as witness” than as a fully fleshed-out personality. Even so, I think raising the question helped him clarify his own intentions, which is ultimately one of the main goals of peer review.

What I could do differently next time is tailor my feedback more to the writer’s stated goals. Because Chris views Neville primarily as a narrative lens, my focus on character quirks might not have aligned with his approach. In future workshops, I want to pay closer attention to whether my suggestions fit the scope of the story the writer is aiming to tell.

Part Three: Reading Challenge

While reading ZZ Packer’s “Brownies,” I was impressed with how strongly character choices and written behavior drives the story’s theme. The girls are shaped by prejudice, peer pressure, and their own personal worldviews, and it is their contrasting personalities that bring out the story’s themes. Characters like Arnetta and Octavia embody prejudice and aggression, while Daphne embodies quiet strength. Daphne’s carefully chosen but powerful words remind the reader that kindness (expressed not through loud or abrasive behavior, but through quiet thoughtfulness) can be just as impactful to a reader. This balance of flaws and strengths in each character shows how development and personality traits directly influence the plot and the reader’s interpretation of the world Packer created.

Thanks to Packer, every character in “Brownies” has their own voice. Even a quiet figure like Daphne reshapes the tone of the story with her gentle demeanor. This connects directly to how I am thinking about my own character sketch for Leda. Leda is defined by contradiction: she longs for human connection but fears rejection; she is frozen in time but has lived through history. Like Daphne, her quieter qualities should be as impactful to the reader to help the story flow.

Combining what I took from “Brownies” with the peer feedback I received, I see how deepening Leda’s personal details can better connect her character arc to the overall plot. Her eventual choice to embrace love and sacrifice herself will feel more powerful if the reader has already seen both her flaws and her quiet strengths.

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ENG-329 Character Sketch "Leda"

“Leda”

The most telling attribute of Leda’s character is the name she adopts from the children. Her original name, lost to time, is something she cannot remember. When the children call her “Leda,” the name stirs something within her that she had not felt in a long time: belonging. The name was not gifted by curse or by fear; it is offered freely, and affectionately. By embracing it, Leda, both accepts her humanity and reclaims a sense of self that the curse took.

This is central to the story’s resolution. Leda’s acceptance of the name marks the moment she shifts from victim to hero. When she later risks her life to save the family, it is not in hope of release of a curse but in thoughts of love and loyalty. She has already accepted who she is: Leda, the swan-girl who they love. Ironically, it is precisely this act of giving and choosing to love them back to the death, which breaks the curse. So, the name “Leda” is not only her rebirth but also the symbol of her end as a swan.

 Physical Description

Leda exists in two forms: a swan and a young girl. As a swan, she is white as snow, with black eyes that are sharp and watchful. As a girl, she has delicate features, soft skin, and brown eyes. Though she has lived for over two centuries, a curse has preserved her in the body of a thirteen-year-old child. The cruelty of the curse is that her youth remains untouched by time, making her both otherworldly and ghostlike to humans who catch a glimpse of her. Leda’s movements are elegant and limber, allowing her to slip in and out of sightlines with ease. She spends her time as a human in the forest and sneaks into the chateau’s gardens sometimes. She spends her time as a swan on the lake, watching over the chateau at night, as she has done for her entire life.

Personality

Leda is inward and observant, shaped by her solitude. She carries her pain, deeply aware of her own undoing, yet unwilling to let it harden her heart entirely. While she mistrusts humans due to her father, she is irresistibly drawn to them. Around the family who restored the chateau, she reveals tenderness, particularly toward the children. Though dreamy and contemplative, more watcher than participant, she shows courage and ferocity when needed.

Family History

Leda was once the cherished daughter of a Lord who owned the estate by the lake. Her father’s pride and expectations shaped her early childhood. During a snowstorm, a goddess came to the door seeking shelter. Leda, taught vanity and disdain, scorned the goddess for her appearance and turned her away. For this cruelty, she was cursed: each night beneath the rising moon, she became a swan. Her father, horrified by the transformation, accused her of witchcraft and spent the rest of his life hunting her through the forest. Bound to the enchanted lake, Leda endured centuries of isolation, her humanity turned into a phantom shadow.

Personal Conflicts

Leda’s greatest conflict is the tension between her longing for connection and her terror of it. She aches for human closeness yet believes herself as little more than a ghost, cursed and unworthy of love. Shame over the curse and grief over her father’s rejection weigh heavily upon her. She doesn’t even remember her true name. Her existence is divided: part swan, part girl, trapped between life and death. The curse preserved her body but not her peace of mind. Only when she learns that love is something she can choose to give, rather than something she must receive, does she begin to find peace.

Character Sketch Questions

Does your character have a birthmark or scars?

No. The curse erases every trace of time or injury, leaving her skin flawless. The goddess’s cruelty included freezing her forever in her youth.

Where does your character go when she is angry?

She retreats beneath the willow tree at the water’s edge, hidden behind its curtain of branches.

What is her biggest fear? Why?

Her greatest fear is to be seen as she truly is and rejected, just as her father once rejected the curse. She would never reveal herself on purpose to the family she watches, because their rejection would wound her as deeply as her father’s betrayal had.

When has your character been in love or suffered heartbreak?

She has never known romantic love. Her first heartbreak was her father’s betrayal and his decision to hunt her, rather than try to save her from the curse.

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ENG-329-15155 - Module One Journal

The Rewrite: There was a screech from up the stairs. He dropped the grocery bag and sprinted when another three hard thumps rattled the ceiling after the scream. He could only imagine what she’d found lurking upstairs. By the time his feet met the landing it was too late for him to swoop in and save her. He skidded to a stop and stared in shock. Steam rolled out of the open bathroom door like swamp fog and a black snake writhed in the bathtub at his wife, jaws wide open. She had her feet pressed on either side of the tub, her painted toes digging into the porcelain as she looked down at her foe. “Stay back,” she said, calmly. She was barefoot, her hair damp around her shoulders, as if she’d just started to shower when the snake showed up. Her eyes were bright, clever, and focused. Then she stomped once, clean, her heel pinning the snake's skull against the white of the clawfoot tub. The animal coiled reflexively, but she stayed hard and firm, then the slithering devil went slack from the pressure. She laughed, laughed. Then she picked a strand of hair from her mouth. “It came for me right out of the ceiling," she pointed at a crack in the old wooden panels above her head, still grinning, as if the snake had been a trial and she’d passed. He reached for her, helping her back onto the floor. Then he put his hands on her shoulders, steadying them both while the faucet dripped overhead. She was so brave, so witty, and everything he never knew he needed. (Rewritten from page 117 of 100 years of the Best American short stories)

Explanation: I re-routed the story through action, aligning with my preference for adventure, emotion and suspense in my own writing. Lev Grossman argues that well-written genre fiction isn’t mere escapism; its immediacy and plotting help readers read real human problems “in transfigured form” (Grossman, 2012). By focusing on the threat, her decision, and the aftermath, my rewrite aims for the clarity that Grossman praises with sentences that help loosen the plot rather than slow the story for less clarification.

Personal Writing Goals: I want to write across genres! Fantasy, adventure, romance, and even poetry–I am seeking writing in a way that balances swift, compelling plots with the emotional depth I love. I imagine stories filled with clever protagonists, the classic loyal companions, and high-stakes quests, all carried by cinematic-esque action. Grossman mentioned that many contemporary literary writers borrow freely from genre, which only continues to motivate me to pursue hybrid writing. I can have writing that is accessible and fast-moving, yet still attentive to imagery and theme. This course will help me strengthen my writing, while testing whether each scene I write can hold tension and deliver a payoff. I hope to be published with shorter pieces in magazines that welcome young adult fiction. I also want to start querying my finished work to agents in the next three years as I work on my MFA.

Resources:

Groff, L. (2015). At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners. In L. Moore & H. Pitlor (Eds.), 100 years of the Best American short stories (pp. 116 - 117). Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Grossman, L. (2012, May 23). Literary revolution in the supermarket aisle: Genre fiction is disruptive technology: How science fiction, fantasy, romance, mysteries and all the rest will take over the world. Time. https://entertainment.time.com/2012/05/23/genre-fiction-is-disruptive-technology/

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ENG-421: 2-1 Discussion

Jan 13, 2025 6:29 PM

Hello everyone! Happy Monday.

As a young adult romance author who has self-published a book, I’ve learned so much just from that experience. My readership for my debut was primarily female, with 98% of my book purchases coming from women. This influences the type of content I create and where I share it (Berry, 2024). My most recent book was also primarily female, but it had a 38% higher DNF (Did Not Finish) rating. After conducting research during my overhaul in August 2024, and after many failed attempts to market myself beyond the female purchaser, I’ve decided to focus my efforts on one social media channel: Instagram, as it provides the perfect space for visually driven, immersive content that appeals to my audience.

Based on my research and the preferences of my past readers and reviewers, I plan to share content that reflects both my personal interests and my writing journey.

The following are the types of content I believe will most engage my followers:

Book Recommendations and Reviews: Sharing my top fantasy and romance book recommendations or reviews of books, since my readers are likely to enjoy similar stories that I love. These posts also allow me to build credibility as someone with knowledge in the genre.

Behind-the-Scenes and Writing Process: Fans of young adult fantasy and romance love to dive into the creative process. I plan to share snippets of my current works-in-progress, early drafts, and behind-the-scenes content.

Character Aesthetics and Inspiration Boards: Using platforms like Instagram and even Pinterest, I can post aesthetic boards or mood boards for my characters, settings, and overall story vibe. Visual content that embodies my characters would be especially engaging to readers who love to “see” the worlds they read about.

Personal Moments and Lifestyle: Sharing aspects of my personal life, like photos of my personal library as it’s being built, my guide dogs, or snippets of my daily life, can help humanize me and foster a connection with my consumers.

Instagram and Pinterest are the two platforms that would be most effective in reaching and engaging my audience and are already two platforms that I use comfortably. 

Instagram is an excellent visual platform that allows me to share photos, short videos, and stories. I also prefer Instagram as a platform, and it’s important for authors to enjoy the social media presence they maintain so they do not get burned out (Mixtus Media, 2022).

Pinterest is another ideal platform for me because it allows for conglomerated posts, extensive saving, and a dedicated community of young adult readers. According to Penguin Random House, it’s a good idea to use Pinterest to visualize your author brand (Dallal, 2018). Pinterest also includes a link option, allowing ‘pinners’ to go right from their pin to your website.

Resources:

Dallal, Nadine. "Using Pinterest to Visualize Your Author Brand." Random Notes, October 2018, www.randomnotes.com/using-pinterest-to-visualize-your-author-brand.

Mixtus Media. "Which Social Media Outlets Work Best for Authors." YouTube, 9 Sept. 2022, www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMwQ608l8pg.

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ENG-421: 1-1 Discussion

Jan 6, 2025 5:01 PM

Which authors do you aspire to be like?

Growing up, I found inspiration in the works of authors like Meg Cabot, Caroline B. Cooney, and Laura Ingalls Wilder. Their stories ignited my passion for writing, and they continue to be the authors I most admire even as I’ve gotten older. My love for young adult literature has remained strong despite my age, and I was drawn to the writings of Suzanne Collins, Ally Condie, and Brittney Ryan in my twenties. These authors deepened my appreciation for the genre, and revisiting childhood classics like The Giver, Julie of the Wolves, and Harry Potter in recent years has only fueled my admiration further. They've taught me that stories that resonate across generations can still be written for younger audiences, and I hope to infuse my own writing with a timeless quality while maintaining a distinctive voice within the genre.

What lessons can you learn from them to cultivate your own identity as an author?

From these authors, I’ve learned the importance of creating characters that feel relatable, crafting vivid settings, and building compelling storylines. They demonstrate how to balance emotional depth with readability, an essential skill for connecting with young adult readers. I've also realized that a strong thematic focus—whether it’s resilience, self-discovery, or hope—is key to engaging most readers. To cultivate my identity as an author, I plan to offer a fresh perspective by incorporating my personal experiences as a past military child and unique worldview thanks to past jobs in the theme park world. This will help me stand out in the genre and position myself as a writer who brings authenticity and diversity to the stories I tell.

What is unique about you as a writer, including your style, experiences, or expertise?

Growing up as a military child, I got to live and travel all over the country. This gave me the chance to experience many different cultures, places, and people. These experiences have shaped how I see the world and influence my writing. They help me create detailed settings and characters that feel real and reflect different perspectives. My writing style is similar to authors like Caroline B. Cooney and Meg Cabot because I love writing engaging stories with strong young adult voices. However, unlike them, I prefer using third-person narration instead of first-person, except in informal formats like letters or blogs. Writing in third-person lets me show more of the story while still sharing the deep emotions that connect with young readers. To make my work stand out, I focus on creating rich, authentic worlds and well-rounded characters that reflect diverse experiences, making my stories unique in the young adult genre.

Will you use a pseudonym? Why or why not?

Right now, I don’t think I need a fake name for writing young adult books unless it’s part of a specific marketing plan, like creating a unique persona similar to Lemony Snicket or Ransom Riggs. For now, I want to use my real name so I can connect with readers in a genuine way. Writing under my own name helps me build trust and show that my stories come from my heart and personal experience. If my plans change and I need to create a branded persona later, I might reconsider. While having a strong brand or social media presence can boost book sales and help with publishing deals, it’s not the name that counts for me.

Sources:

Donne, A. "Author as Brand Is Out of Control | Author Platform in 2021." YouTube, 2 Mar. 2021, www.youtube.com/watch?v=kce43wh4-l0. 

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Guiding Light: Final Script

Submit your script, incorporating all the feedback you received.

ACT 1

INT. SUBWAY STATION – LOWER MANHATTAN – EARLY MORNING

A GOLDEN RETRIEVER, calm and focused, weaves through the morning crowd with gentle precision. His harness reads: GUIDE DOG.

Attached to him is ALLY HOLLANDER (late 30s), dressed in a smart navy pantsuit—stylish but practical. She walks with confidence, like she’s done this route a hundred times.

The clatter of the subway fades, replaced by the city waking up—car horns, snippets of conversation, rhythmic footsteps.

ALLY Let’s go to work, Bixby. Hop up.

BIXBY responds with a small wag of his tail, his pace quickening.

EXT. WORLD TRADE CENTER PLAZA – MOMENTS LATER

The Twin Towers rise majestically into a clear, impossibly blue sky. Sunlight glints off glass and steel.

The camera pans upward—letting the towers dominate the frame.

ALLY pauses, tilting her face toward the sun.

ALLY I think we should go for a walk at lunch. It's gorgeous today.

She smiles, inhaling deeply. Bixby waits patiently, tail still wagging.

ALLY (CONT'D) Let’s go, Bix. Big meeting today. Derrick’s waiting on us.

INT. NORTH TOWER – LOBBY – CONTINUOUS

The lobby hums with morning energy. People rush to elevators, sip coffee, exchange greetings.

ALLY moves with practiced ease, Bixby guiding her around carts and commuters.

DERRICK MATTIAS (late 30s, casual, tall, and sharp) slides into frame on Bixby’s other side. Bixby looks up, wags, but stays focused.

DERRICK Morning, Ally. Bixby behaving today?

ALLY Oh, hey, Derrick! I thought you’d beat us here.

DERRICK Nah, I stopped to grab us coffees.

ALLY Thanks!

INT. ELEVATOR – MOMENTS LATER

ALLY stands among a handful of professionals. BIXBY rests calmly at her feet. DERRICK stands to her left, gently swirling two cups of coffee, as if searching for something to say.

The elevator dings as floors pass.

DERRICK First week go okay?

ALLY Fine. I've had Bixby learn our route, and my roommate’s been helpful with getting to know the apartment building.

DERRICK Good. Good.

She smiles, her hand resting on BIXBY’S harness.

The elevator dings as it reaches FLOOR 78.

DERRICK This is us.

ALLY steps out, following BIXBY, who follows DERRICK. The doors close behind them.

KAREN (late 40s, wearing a cat sweater, looking straight out of a Betty Crocker ad), the front desk secretary, waves warmly as they pass.

KAREN Your meeting got moved up three hours, but feel free to take the conference room.

ALLY Thanks, Karen. And thanks for recommending that show on the West End—I got tickets for next weekend.

KAREN Happy to help!

the room. WINDOWS TREMBLE—then a CRASH. Glass explodes inward, shards flying.

ALLY (startled, confused) What—?

ALLY’S POV: The world blurs. Vision fades in and out at the edges. Frantic movement streaks across the frame.

SOUNDS sharpen—screams, rushing footsteps, the distant crack of the building.

DERRICK (O.S.) We need to get out of here!

BACK TO SCENE:

DERRICK grabs ALLY’S shoulder—firm, desperate. His face is etched with fear.

ALLY, eerily calm, doesn’t flinch.

CLOSE ON DERRICK: Horror-stricken. Eyes wide. Staring at the shattered windows. Smoke and debris swirl outside. He clings to Ally instinctively.

ANGLE ON BIXBY Alert. Sniffing the air. Whining.

He nudges ALLY’S knee—the sign that he needs to relieve himself.

ALLY Bixby wants to go outside.

She grabs his harness with quiet resolve. BIXBY leads her forward, navigating the debris-littered floor with practiced care.

DERRICK (tense) Careful, Ally. The floor’s covered in debris.

ALLY Karen, are you still here? Did you see what happened?

AT THE RECEPTION DESK:

KAREN The phone lines are down. Maybe another bomb... There was one years ago, but this feels... different.

ALLY wrinkles her nose, as if trying to identify a smell.

ALLY’S POV (HEIGHTENED SENSES) The room SPINS. Vision NARROWS. Sounds DISTORT.

SILENCE SWELLS.

She BLINKS—

CAMERA BLINKS WITH HER — then returns to normal view.

ALLY What’s that horrible smell?

DERRICK It smells like gas. We’re not safe here if there’s a leak.

The camera follows BIXBY as he leads ALLY confidently through the thickening smoke toward the elevator. KAREN frantically presses the elevator buttons. Each press is a loud, anxious CLICK.

DERRICK Ally, you should go onto the elevator first.

ALLY No, wait. We need to take the stairs. We don’t know what that explosion was.

ALLY (to KAREN) Can you guide us to the stairwell door? Bixby can get me down that way. We practiced it twice before.

KAREN I got it. Follow me.

DERRICK follows closely behind as the group navigates the smoke-filled hallway, their steps quick, unsteady. KAREN opens the heavy stairwell door, holding it for ALLY and BIXBY to pass through.

The door SLAMS closed behind KAREN. The camera pulls back to show the hallway.

An EXPLOSION erupts from the hallway above them. The doorway is swallowed by a cascade of debris—concrete, steel beams, and electrical wires RAIN down.

INT. NORTH TOWER – CONFERENCE ROOM / HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS

DERRICK I think the building’s collapsing!

A SCREAM cuts through the air.

KAREN’S voice, distant and strained, echoes through the smoke.

KAREN (O.S.) Help! I’m stuck! My leg—!

ALLY’S face tightens—focus sharpening.

SMASH TO BLACK.

SFX: COLLAPSING walls. Distant cries. Crumbling debris.

Amidst the chaos—KAREN’S voice, faint but unmistakable.

DERRICK (O.S.) Ally, we need to move—now!

BACK TO SCENE:

ALLY hesitates, torn. Then shakes her head.

Without hesitation, she releases BIXBY’S harness and begins feeling her way toward KAREN’S voice—hands moving with precision through thick smoke and debris.

ALLY We’re not leaving her.

Together, ALLY and DERRICK uncover KAREN, partially pinned under rubble.

She winces, clutching her leg.

KAREN I think it’s broken... my ankle... it hurts so bad.

DERRICK I’m sorry. We need to get out of here. Fast.

KAREN It’s so dark...

ALLY It’s not so different for me. We’re going to be okay.

ALLY takes BIXBY’S harness and hands it to DERRICK. He takes it—a silent exchange of trust.

With one arm, DERRICK lifts KAREN, supporting her weight. ALLY grips BIXBY’S leash, knuckles white.

ALLY (soft, commanding) Let’s go, Bixby.

CAMERA ON BIXBY: Eyes sharp. Movements deliberate. He leads them through the smoky hallway—a silent, steady guide.

DERRICK I can’t believe this is happening...

KAREN (coughing) Do you smell burning?

ALLY Cover your mouths with your shirts. The smoke’s getting thicker.

ALLY pulls her shirt up, covering her nose.

BIXBY continues forward, moving with calm confidence, guiding the way.

KAREN leans heavily on DERRICK, who supports her weight.

ALLY stands tall, her heightened senses guiding them through the thickening smoke. BIXBY moves with precision, leading them forward.

The camera pulls back, revealing the trio, slowly disappearing into the thick haze.

The sounds of collapsing floors and distant screams grow louder.

The screen lingers for a moment—then cuts to BLACK.

BIXBY picks up his pace, guiding her with unwavering certainty. The ground shakes again, and the noise of the collapsing building reverberates through the air. The walls tremble.

They reach a narrow landing, blocked by heavy chunks of concrete. DERRICK looks around, his eyes wild with fear. ALLY holds her ground, refusing to give in.

KAREN (pained, gasping for breath) I can’t... I can’t keep going.

Another explosion shakes the building, louder than before. ALLY hears the rising panic in DERRICK and KAREN's voices but shakes her head, refusing to be swayed.

ALLY We’re not giving up yet. He's trained to find certain points for me. I know he can do this.

She grips BIXBY’s harness, determined.

ALLY Bixby, find the door.

Suddenly, BIXBY tugs his harness, pulling ALLY in a different direction than she expects. She hesitates for a moment but then trusts him without question.

DERRICK Where’s he taking us?

ALLY He can smell ten thousand times better than us. He's probably finding a clear way to walk... less smoke at the very least.

They move quickly down a narrow corridor, debris scattered around them. BIXBY moves forward with purpose. His pace quickens.

EXT. SECOND FLOOR STAIRCASE – DAY

Two FIREFIGHTERS, covered in soot, emerge. They look around at the survivors, their faces drawn tight.

FIREMAN 1 (urgent, crouching down to Bixby as he asks them questions) Are there more people behind you?

ALLY Yes, most of the office workers are still trapped above or on separate staircases.

The firefighter nods grimly, signaling to his partner. They wave the group forward.

FIREMAN 2 You’ve only got two more stairwells to go. You’re almost out. Move quickly, a second plane’s hit the other tower.

DERRICK A second plane?!

FIREMAN 2 Just go!

The little group pushes forward, their pace quickening, moving into a crowd making their way down the ruined stairs in front of them.

DERRICK What do they mean, a plane?

KAREN A plane must've hit the tower. That's what the explosion was.

They come upon a sea of people in the doorway leading out of the stairwell. Bixby doesn’t hesitate. He quickly moves the group through the crowd, weaving in and out with precision.

The camera lingers on Bixby, his face focused, his golden fur streaked with dust. He looks like a ghost, a symbol of hope amidst the darkness that breaks through into a partially crumbled lobby filled with injured people.

EXT. STREET – CONTINUOUS

The crowd erupts in panic, people running for their lives. Bixby suddenly stops, refusing to move. Ally skids to a halt, trying to make sense of what's happening. She urges him forward, but he doesn't budge.

CUT TO: ALLY'S POV

Through the gaps in her vision, we see Bixby nudging something pale and blurry on the ground. Derrick's voice breaks the tension, low and filled with disgust.

DERRICK (whispers) They're jumping from the upper stories... The tower’s coming down. We need to find shelter from the fall.

KAREN (weakly) I can’t go any further... my ankle. I won’t make it.

Ally's jaw tightens. She drops to her knees beside Karen, her voice full of fierce determination.

ALLY We’re not leaving you.

KAREN (pleading) Ally, you’ve gotten me this far... but I can’t keep up. You need to go. I'll be fine! I'll find a place to keep cover.

Derrick pulls Ally to her feet, wrapping her in a tight hug before nodding at Karen. Karen forces a weak smile.

KAREN Go... and keep yourselves safe.

ALLY (crying) Karen... please! Let us help you!

DERRICK (gently) I know, Ally. It feels wrong. But we have to run. The tower won’t wait. We need to go underground... Farther from here... Anything.

Ally sobs as she grabs Bixby’s harness, her voice pained.

ALLY Bixby, find the subway. Go! Hop up! Hop up!

Bixby responds instantly, his body tensing, instincts kicking in. He bolts into action.

The camera pulls back as Ally, Derrick, and Bixby race toward the subway, the sound of the tower’s creaks and groans echoing in the background.

CUT TO:

Karen, alone now, reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. Tears streak down her face as she types a message while she crawls forward, whimpering.

FADE OUT.

ACT 3

EXT. STREET – NEAR SUBWAY ENTRANCE – DAY

BIXBY leads the way, his steady steps cutting through the mass of panicked people. ALLY and DERRICK follow closely behind.

Ally grips Bixby’s harness tightly. The camera catches every jolt and tremor as he tugs her around bodies and people filming the chaos. Ahead, the familiar raised subway sign. Bixby slows, panting heavily. Bixby is limping. Ally can tell.

ALLY Keep going, boy. I know this is hard.

Suddenly, the air is filled with screams and shouts—deafening, frantic, drowning out all other sounds. At exactly 9:59 AM, the sound of the SOUTH TOWER COLLAPSING rings out, followed by a violent shockwave that shakes the ground beneath them. Dust and debris fill the air like a nuclear blast. Bixby, Ally, and Derrick are thrown to the ground by the impact.

DERRICK (panicked, voice cracking as he lifts Ally up while Bixby righted himself with a limp and a whine) Jesus Christ! We need to get inside, NOW!

Derrick grabs Ally’s elbow, pulling her toward the subway entrance. His fingers latch onto BIXBY’S HARNESS, urging the dog forward with frantic energy.

DERRICK Go! Go! Move! Come on, Bixby! Come on, buddy!

Derrick lets go of Ally's hand and swings Bixby into his arms.

DERRICK Follow my voice, Ally. Keep hold of his leash!

Ally’s hand grips Bixby’s leash. Suddenly, her hip strikes the cold, metal pole of the subway staircase. The light flickers in her vision, then vanishes entirely, swallowed by the thickening smoke. The acrid air fills her lungs, burning,

ALLY (choking)

The camera CUTS TO BLACK. All sound disappears except for the faint, muffled echoes of chaos in the distance. The ringing silence envelops the scene, heavy and suffocating. In the blackness, the tremors of the world still vibrate, a constant, unrelenting reminder of the devastation around them.

For a long moment, everything is still. The silence is oppressive—unbearable. ALLY’s frantic shouting can be heard, but it's disjointed and distorted, her voice breaking in the static silence. The only indication that she is still holding onto the taut leash is the slight tremble in her hand, white knuckling the leather.

Suddenly, light begins to return. First, a dim outline—like a flicker from the edge of a storm—then brighter, more focused. The blackness gives way slowly, reluctantly, revealing the chaos once again.

The camera PULLS BACK, the sound of distant rumbling, shouts, and cries filtering through. The thick smoke begins to clear, revealing DERRICK, ALLY, and BIXBY emerging from the debris. Their faces are coated in soot, their clothes covered in dust, their movements slow and shaky.

The scene around them is a blur—people scrambling for cover, rushing forward in search of safety, some helping the injured, others frantically trying to locate loved ones or family.

DERRICK and ALLY stagger forward, barely able to keep their feet under them. They collapse, exhausted, onto the cement floor. DERRICK lowers BIXBY gently to the ground, his hands trembling as he sets the dog down. ALLY immediately throws her arms around Bixby, hugging him tightly, burying her face in his fur.

The sound of the outside world rushes back into the scene—muffled, disjointed. The hurried footsteps of survivors reverberate around them, the distant screams of panic, the occasional sound of debris shifting.

ALLY Oh my... Oh my God...

DERRICK (kissing Ally's temple, still in shock) Holy shit. We did it. Bixby... he did it. I can’t even... how are we alive?

ALLY Is Bixby okay, Derrick?

DERRICK (pulling away slightly, inspecting Bixby’s paw) He's got glass or something in his pads... he's hurt, but he kept going for us. He's a damn hero.

ALLY He is. He’s incredible.

DERRICK I don’t know how he did it... he just... kept moving. How do you even explain that kind of loyalty? He’s a damn miracle.

ALLY He's our miracle. We wouldn't have made it without him.

ALLY You did good, Bixby. You did so good.

DERRICK I hope Karen made it somewhere safe. She's got grandkids...a husband...

ALLY I know. I keep thinking... what if she didn’t?

DERRICK I don't know...I don't even know where to go from here.

BIXBY leans against ALLY, his head resting on her side, exhausted but loyal. The camera lingers on the quiet bond between ALLY and BIXBY—their connection, unspoken but undeniable. The noise of the outside world—people still running, screaming, crying—fades in the background as they share this intimate moment, anchored in each other’s presence.

ALLY Wherever you go, Bixby and I are following.

DERRICK Good, I still owe you that date.

FADE OUT.

EXT. LAWN OF THE WHITE HOUSE – DAY – ONE YEAR LATER

A grand ceremony at the White House. A row of service dogs, each adorned with a medal, stands at attention. The camera glides along the line, stopping on BIXBY, at the front. His golden coat gleams in the sunlight, posture poised, dignified.

ALLY, in a soft yellow dress, stands beside him. She smiles proudly, one hand resting on Bixby’s harness. On her other side, DERRICK holds her hand.

The camera moves through the sea of dogs and handlers, capturing the emotional pride and gratitude on their faces. Applause fills the air for the dogs' bravery, but it’s BIXBY who draws focus — he looks between Ally and Derrick, proud and content.

PRESIDENT (O.S.) Today, we honor the brave men and women—and the remarkable dogs—who risked everything to save lives when the world seemed to be crumbling. We thank you for your courage, your strength, and your unwavering dedication.

ALLY You’re so loved, Bixby.

DERRICK (pulling Ally in for a gentle forehead kiss) So loved… We should go to dinner later. Get him the biggest steak.

ALLY (teasing) You spoil him rotten, you know.

DERRICK He saved our lives. He deserves steak for dinner and ice cream for dessert every day — until he gets sick of it.

ALLY Come on, Karen said she’d wait for us by the rose garden with her husband.

The camera PULLS BACK to reveal the full ceremony. ALLY, DERRICK, and BIXBY walk offstage, heading toward a patch of rose beds. KAREN sits there on a wheelchair, alive and still wearing a cat sweater, waving a handkerchief — clearly emotional, having just cried.

The APPLAUSE continues, but the camera stays on the HAND resting on Bixby’s harness between Ally and Bixby.

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END.

CREDITS ROLL to "Hanging By a Moment" by Lifehouse.

[archivesofsclarke]

ENG-323: 5-1 Discussion

Apr 1, 2025 3:02 PM

Hey everyone! Happy Tuesday :)

The Underground film begins with a performance of “Let My People Go,” a lyrical song performed by the chorus that immediately sets a tone of resistance and hope for freedom. This song, deeply rooted in African American history, serves not only as an atmospheric element but also moves the narrative forward without needing a ton of dialogue. 

In the film's climax, when the characters are rescued by the resistance, the lyrical music transitions to “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” signaling a shift from “Let My People Go”. The melody contrasts with the previous song, and the change in tone reflects the characters’ emotional transformation from hopeful despair to hopeful success. This musical shift helps the story itself, the plot itself, using lyrical dialogue. 

When considering my own script, I would love to try to use lyrical music similarly. It’s amazing to see it used both as a tool for story continuation and to deepen the audience's connection to the characters. Like in Underground, I can use songs to convey the unspoken aspects of my characters’ emotional arcs. My main character, Ally, is blind so I need to find other ways to interpret her surroundings. Music could become an integral part of the dialogue, helping to communicate the essence of internal struggles my characters are having. The songs I choose for my script can resonate with the deeper survival themes of my story, enriching the dialogue and enhancing the emotional impact.

Here is a really cool article I found on the history behind the song used in the finale “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” as it helped me appreciate the songs chosen in this movie more: https://www.standard.co.uk/sport/rugby/swing-low-sweet-chariot-song-meaning-rugby-review-a4473681.html

Resource:

SNHU A11y Remediated Videos. (2016). Underground 4 [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gN8Gg7wVPE