This scene begins with the entrance of two guards named Barnardo and Francisco at a change of watch. Both guards call out, in panic, to an unknown character. Soon after, they calm down and their superior Horatio and another sentinel Marcellus enter the scene. They inform him about the apparition, resembling their recently-dead King, that has been appearing during their watch.
Horatio doubts what they are telling him but he is quickly proven wrong when the ghost enters the scene. However the ghost ignores their attempts to speak to it and it quickly exits at the sound of the cocks crow.
For the rest of the scene the men talk about the death of the Norwegian Fortinbras, at the hands of Hamlet, and make speculations about how his son is planning to follow in his fathers footsteps and invade the land that Hamlet won. The sentinels decide it is wise to find Hamlet and inform him about the strange ghost.
The wide spread anticipation spiralled around the huge hall. It built up the already clenching tension in your muscles that your pre-stretching didn’t seem to help whatsoever. The only thing that relaxed you even slightly, was the fact that you knew for certain that you were not the only one experiencing the anxiety. The room was still and silent. The silence? No, the silence was not peaceful, it was a nervous silence; one that struck discipline into all of the students, their belts wrapped far too tightly around their Gis. The silence was only broken by the sound of crashing mats, bashing against your eardrums, as they were thrown on the ground and arranged neatly into a large rectangular area. Your anticipation began to become even more intense.
The rows of white belts where disrupted by the occasional black belt inspecting them. Analysing. Evaluating. Intimidating. It was not purely terrifying however. You felt a buzz, a rush. Adrenaline surging through your body as you began to comprehend that your moment was hastily approaching. You breath in and out deeply but the air seems thick. It strikes you that your whole body is tense, you fists are clenched and your legs are tight. Your body relaxes and you begin to except that this is your time, your chance to prove your self. It is at that moment that everything seems to come to a stand still. Your perception rises and you begin to accumulate a sense restlessness. You notice the one drop of sweat making its way down your outer left thigh that would usually slip by unnoticed. Is this why you train in martial arts? Is this the thrill you have been waiting for? You realise you are holding up the queue, the wait is over.
You listen to the first group executing their rolls in perfect synchronisation. They smash against the ground as one causing vibrations to reach across the mats, underneath your knees and along your shins. A breeze brushes past your back and you follow the feeling along the row of kneeling students tracing it back to the door that had been slightly left open. Before you know it you’re standing in the position that has tested your nerve all day. You know your timing is key but your reactions are still slow and your first roll is behind. The split second interval between you and the rest of the group touching the floor seems like a century. From here you know its only a downwards spiral as with each motion you get further and further behind. You scold yourself for that very disappointing start.
Aches, pains and anxiety quickly become overwhelmed by the deep stench of the sweat residing in the man’s armpit that your head is trapped in. The attack on your senses brings you back to reality, enough to make you realize that you have yet to prove yourself. You stand in the middle of the circle with your hair wet from your own exhaustion. You wait decisively for your first attacker. You can already here people from other groups being thrown to the ground and you question why no one has attacked you yet. You let your gaze zoom in on a singular student isolating the two of you from the rest of the group. He knows he has to attack now. The punch glides towards you and you step to the side allowing the cuff of his blood stained gi to brush past your cheek and over your shoulder. You grab his arm and apply the lock perfectly, finishing with a scruffy but surprisingly effective throw.
You and the rest of the students stand in a large semicircle around the edge of the mats. By the look on the sensei’s face you know you have done it. Belts undone, bloody noses, sweaty foreheads and scruffy hair. Mutual respect circulates around the room because you all understand each other in a way that normal conversation could not provoke.
Head down he strolled down the street observing only the scattered cracks on the pavement. He could not glance up. He could not see it. One glance would be all it would take. Once glance up and he would see what he had done; the destruction he had caused. One man, one day and all of this damage. Lives in ruin, people looking up to the sky in despair, praying for something, some sort of mercy. He could not bare it, he could not bare to see any of it. Heat began to enter his sences, warming his left arm, and soon after burning, bright orange embers slashed across his vision of the tarnished pavement.
He knew he would have to look up eventually. And the sudden growing breeze was giving him the motivation needed to do so. The embers being blown towards him were crashing against his bare arms and legs creating a perpetual stinging sensation. The breeze had developed into a gust, flailing fractions of newspapers around him. Walking was becoming harder and along with the confused weather came confused thoughts.
He looked up. The buildings crumbling around him, crashing to the ground, but he could not hear it; there was silence. Wailing mothers crying at the loss of their children. Death was ignored. The roads littered with bodies. The bodies of good people. He had reached the bridge now. It was over. There was peace, finally.
He left the class. He walked to the stairs. He fell down the stairs. He broke his arm. He went to the hospital. He passed out. He woke up in a jungle.
Slowly, he left the class. Gloomily, he walked to the stairs. Brutily, he fell down the stairs. Shockingly, he broke his arm. Hurriedly, he went to the hospital. Silently, he passed out. Wearily, he woke up in a jungle.
Slowly, you left the class. Gloomily, you walked to the stairs. Brutily, you fell down the stairs. Shockingly, you broke your arm. Hurriedly, you went to the hospital. Silently, you passed out. Wearily, you woke up in a jungle.
Shockingly, you broke your arm and hurriedly went to the hospital, then soon after you passed out. :O
Wearily, you woke up in an amazingly, huge and luscious jungle.
After a seemingly endless lesson I left the class the classroom and headed towards the stairs for break. I was mentally recked after that lesson of confusing science and the smell of deodorant mixed with teenage sweat was nit helping my brains functionality either. I was that ou of it that I didn’t even see the stairs coming and it was not long before I was tumbling down them at a high speed. It was on the third from last step that I heard it crack, my arm was completely broken. Tge sudden rush of pain took over me and before I knew it I was being driven to the hospital in an ambulance. Suddenly things started to move slowly and it was only when I looked up to the left I saw the panicked looking doctor standing above me with an empty needle in his hand. At last everything drifted to a stop and I passed out. I senses started to come back to me and I could hear the sound of birds chirping, I could taste a sweet pollen in the hear, I could feel the grass beneath my head,I could smell the damp, dense air swirl by my nose. Finally I opened my eyes and I could not believe what I was seing. I had woken up in a jungle.
You sluggishly left the lesson after just making it through without a detention. You ran to the stairs eager to get to break and getting some tasty food to refuel yr brain. In your sprint you lost balance and toppled down the stairs headfirst, building up significant momentum untill you came to a crashing and painful stop at the wall at the bottom. After realizong you had a broken arm you screamed out for a teacjer and you were speedily transported to the hospital. The room you were kept in was a grim with basically no lighting apart from two extremely bright spotlights shining on you. The multiple doctors and nurses swarmed arpund you and quickly hooked you up to an oxygen suply that had you asleep in seconds. Your eyes flutter open and you find yourself in a huge, tropical and luscious jungle. What do you do now?
DeathNote by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata is a 12 volume, 108 chapter manga series that was published in the Shonen Jump magazine in Japan. It became an extremely popular and successful series despite its short length and unorthodox storyline. Shonen Jump is the most well known manga publishing magazine in Japan consisting of an array of the most successful manga series of all time. It also focused on action orientated manga that target mostly people in their early to mid teens, so DeathNote that contains a mature, dark and complex storyline was very unusual for a Shonen Jump manga. For this reason DeathNote is in history as one of the most successful dark manga in history. Another unique feature of DeathNote is the fact that it is written and illustrated by two different people compared to most manga that is only created by one person.
DeathNote is a manga that revolves around books known as the DeathNotes that allow you to kill someone by writing their name in the book. These books are used by Shinigami (Gods of Death) to kill humans and to extend their own lives by taking the humans remaining lifespan. The main character of the series is Light Yagami who is a high school student genius at the start of the manga. The story takes place as he finds a DeathNote that has been dropped by a Shinigami into the human Realm. Light discovers the powers of the book and decides that he wants to rid the world of evil by killing criminals he deems as unworthy of living. L who is the greatest detective in history and has solved every case that he had been given decides to make it is mission to find Light, who has inhabited the nickname of Kira (killer in Japanese) to the public.
DeathNote has a strong anti-hero theme as the main character is a clear anti-hero because he believes that he is doing something good for the world but in reality he is still killing people and as the series progresses he ends up killing anyone who gets in his way. I think that this feature really enhances the story as it adds to the complexity of the story by encouraging you to consider your moral opinion on ehat Light is doing.
Light unlike most main characters in manga is designed to be unlikeable to the readers although he is very entertaining to watch. Light is a very manipulative character who is able to put on a charismatic innocent facade to take advantage of anyone he needs to. This means the readers have a completely different opinion and perception of Light compared to other characters in the story. Despite the fact he is developed to be disliked by the reader he is very entertaining and his extreme intellect and manipulation make his story very gripping.
However character is not the only way the anti-hero theme is developed. Takeshi Obata is a very skilled artist who is able to perfectly depict the story that Tsugumi Ohba cleverly crafted. His art style is detailed and realistic compared to most action story lines which is fitting as DeathNote is more realistic than the average Shonen manga. The art also has a very dark tone that really enhances the events which involve evil and corruption. He is also able to show the character switch in Lights characters and he is able to show Light as almost two different personalities. He also has great character design being able to craft interesting characters. His design of Light is seemingly ordinary but it is actually very clever as he appears to be a regular over achieving, popular student when in reality his thought processes are much more complex and he has a dark side that no one is aware of.
It is visible that DeathNote involves a lot of corruption as eventually in the story the image of Kira becomes popular and accepted, by some it is even worshipped and Light is seen as a God. I thing this is typical of an anti-hero text because it includes the oppression that is usually present in these sort of story lines and in DeathNote you can see the corruption slowly build up to a state where you struggle to relate to the everyday people who are just submitting to and going along with the injustice present.
The poem Poppies was wriiten by Jane Weir who is an award winning poet born in 1963 with English and Italian decent. The poem is set on armistice sunday which is a day used to mark the end of world war 1. During the time Poppies was written their was a lot of conflict in Afghanistan and Iraq with lots of British Soldiers dying which meant that lots of poets were asked to make poems based around rememberance. The poet also took inspiration from her textiles business as she makes consistent references to it throughout the poem.
Structurally the poem is very organised with four clear stanzas. Although when the poem is more closely analysed you can see that the individual stanzas are less organised and the way it written gives it an inner dialog like feel when read aloud. This is because tgere is a strong presence of commas in the text. The poem also goes against a lot of similar poems that oftem include rhyme or at least a strong sense of rhythm.
The poem is based around a mothers changing emotion as her child goes into war and eventually dies. It is unique because the mother is speaking to the son however the son is changing throughout the poem as he leaves for war and dies. The poem has a sorrowful tone fitting the mournfull state of mind of the mother as she talks to the son and watches him going through his life. The poem is very effective at generating sorrow because it is easy to relate to as it is understandable that the mother would be going through a high amount of pain as her son goes to war and dies.
Jain Weir is able to weave in her textile expertose by blending in words with connotations of war with words refering to materials and textiles for example “spasms of paper red, disrupting a blockade of yellow bias binding around your blazer.” Which uses words like blockade and spasms but also talks about bias binding.
Edward Estlin Cummings was born in 1894 in the United States and grew up in a highly religious and well achieving family where his dad was a professor of Harvard University where Cummings later studied. It was not long before he became interested in the modern type of poetry. His poems became very iconic as he focused on very traditional values and subjects like god, love and patriotism, however some of his poems had satirical messages and they undermined the sort of things that his other poems were encouraging.
Cummings himself was a pacifist so during World War 1 he was a member of the ambulance corps. He was even arrested on suspicion of espionage because he was seen expressing views lacking German hatred.
He also began experimenting with punctuation and word form which appears in next to of course god america i as there are no capital letters or full stops until the last line.
In the poem next to of course god america i, Cummings portrays a very satirical tone as he seems to be ridiculing the idea of patriotism throughout the poem.
At the start of the poem the person talking presents a lot of positive statements about the country that you may expect to see in a regular patriotic speech of the sort. This connotes that the speaker is attempting to deliver a motivational speech that carries a lot of love for the country.
However Cummings changes the poem midflow and begins to sound sarcastic in what he is saying. For example he presents the idea that dying for your country is beautiful which may be considered when thought of out of context. The general tone of the poem begins to sound more sarcastic and uncertain during this second part of the poem.
The poem ends with the first line that contains punctuation. I think this signals the end of the fast pace speech performed. Another way that u know the speech was rushed is by the way he drinks a glass of water symbolising a potential sore throat when quick speech and sweat from his nerves. This nervousness shows that the speaker may not even believe what he is trying to say.