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Mod C Sample Creative - Summary advanced english
advanced english (ENGADV)
University of Sydney
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Setting Character/flashback Plot Thinking about that night on his chaise made Mort want to throw up on the circular wooden table sitting beside him. He looked forward through the dimly lighted corridor of his lavish apartment block and contemplated. Mort was the one that built himself up from his father’s farm lifestyle. He introduced France to cigars, yet he was less fulfilled than his father, and now he had spent all his time away from him and has no time now that it’s ending. Modernist attitude: Mort’s world of pleasure came to a stop that night. The clinking of the champagne and the laughs of his employees were made redundant. In fact, the most painstaking part of it all was the superficial “desole” and frowning faces from people he hadn’t talked to in years, thinking they were securing their jobs. It was here in these moments of feathers and drunk dancing that Mort lost sight. Physical description As Mort lifelessly corked his flabby neck to the side, he recognised Flor de Cano Mágicos cigars his father had given to him to celebrate his first sale, lying on the table next to his circular glasses. He twisted his sharp black moustache as he remembered his father joking about how breathing out the smoke vaporises away the debts and regret. Flashback/allegory for inevitable death: He took it and lighted the bottom of its thick maroon base while clenching it between his teeth, cleansing his worries and exhaling. He followed the dancing smoke outside the window and found himself back in Normandy in his father’s pig farm. There was a lined farmland area where the pigs could run around all day. The pigs were born on the land and for 6 months they would have the best life, even Mort was jealous. They ate profusely until they were hugely meaty, rolled around joyously in the mud and played around with the other pigs. His father would And there he realised, “This cigar, this roof, this world, lies all around me as obsolete instruments. I imbibe them in hedonistic pursuit yet to it I purge my soul and humanity, like a ghost in pomp and circumstance.” He possessed the corrupting touch of Midas. What was he doing? Sitting here in his golden embroidered chaise, hearing the “Salut” and “Bonsoir” every time he pushed his key into the lock and yet was deaf to any real emotion, while yes his father calling his name “Mort”, “Mort”, to hear no response from him or the father above, who yes just sat above like a dumbfounded crow; watching my father’s corpse be handed to him, yes I couldn’t even be aided by this factory or fatuous chaise or cigar. Mort found his hand empty. Even his torturously chaotic mind was distracted for a moment. Crackle. He felt the racing heart that shows when it's time to make a quick decision. While feeling the heat amalgamating, he was melting and couldn’t move. Mort was the pig trapped in his fathers farm, and his father’s mercy didn’t show. At least he would accept the inevitable, mitigate the prolonged delusional fantasy. He would rather be the spit roast of Thanatos than continue down this cursed fate. Mort.
send him to auntie Desiree’s house once in every while and every time he got back the next day a third of the pigs were missing. Being an adult man, only now could Mort understand the true horror of the situation. They must have screeched, ran until their legs melted yet they would die without question. All of the mud and fun, ultimately end in an inevitable denouement. His father showed them no mercy. “Monsieur Mort Dupont, It is with great regret to inform you that your father, Monsieur Morir Dupont, has contracted tuberculosis and is in critical condition. We wait to inform you of any news that may progress. With regards, Dr Cartier. Dated: 2nd Nov 1922 ” Mort’s world of pleasure came to a stop that night. The clinking of the champagne and the laughs of his employees were made redundant. In fact, the most painstaking part of it all was the superficial “desole” and frowning faces from people he hadn’t talked to in years, thinking they were securing their jobs. It was here in these moments of feathers and drunk dancing that Mort lost sight.
Thinking about that night on his chaise made Mort want to throw up on the circular wooden table sitting beside him. He looked forward through the dimly lighted corridor of his lavish apartment block and contemplated. Mort was the one that built himself up from his father’s farm lifestyle. He introduced France to cigars, yet he was less fulfilled than his father, and now he had spent all his time away from him and has no time now that it’s ending. As Mort lifelessly corked his flabby neck to the side, he recognised Flor de Cano Mágicos cigars his father had given to him to celebrate his first sale, lying on the table next to his circular glasses. He twisted his sharp black moustache as he remembered his father joking about how breathing out the smoke vaporises away the debts and regret. He took it and lighted the bottom of its thick maroon base while clenching it between his teeth, cleansing his worries and exhaling. He followed the dancing smoke outside the
Mod C Sample Creative - Summary advanced english
Course: advanced english (ENGADV)
University: University of Sydney
