The definition of reality in the Merriam Webster dictionary states that it is neither derivative nor dependent but exists necessarily. According to its definition, then, reality exists outside of distortion, manipulation and belief. Such a source cannot be affected by anything except its natural flow of cause and effect events. In a sense, reality is just there. What I think about it will not affect it. Because reality is so objective and because what I see and believe is so subjective, such a fickle beast as perception should never be equated with reality. The two don’t mix in the slightest, and the belief that they have ever had any true correlation, has greatly affected society as a whole in many different ways.
Perception, in contrast to sensation, is a very relative part of the human body. Unlike the senses, it occurs inside the brain and does not interact directly with outside stimuli. In the process of perception, the brain uses the senses’ reaction to stimuli as a sort of book which it reads and interprets. Once the information is interpreted, the source of the brain will come to an understanding of the phenomenon it sensed.
How people hear things is a great example of sensation and perception. When someone makes a speech, his words are only sound waves buffeting the ear. This is the sense stage of hearing and is only the start of the perception process. If the procedure ended here, the listener would never successfully comprehend the speaker’s words. He would only sense the vibration of the sound waves and an intangible noise in his ears. Perception takes the process of hearing to the next level. The sound waves travel into the ear through a network of specially crafted devices: hair cells, three very small vibrating bones, and other such structures. These interactions create electrical signals which flow to the brain. The brain interprets these signals through tiny cells called neurons and formulates an understandable message out of the jumbled sound waves.
Though perception does give us an idea of surrounding reality, it can never be equated to this certain force. What we perceive as a sound, as a vision, or as a feeling on our skin, can be easily manipulated by the electronic signals in our brain. Whether the distortion is a lesser version of reality, like nearsightedness, or a similar version of reality, like a blue ray version of the discovery channel; what we interpret from surrounding stimuli, will always be distorted by how our brain decodes the information it is given.
What one sees, hears, touches, and smells can be affected by more than just distortions in the way our brain interprets signals, though. What our senses detect can also be distorted by what we believe.
I once walked through the ghetto part of a town in Ponca City, Oklahoma. For some reason an atrocious smell would always waft over and burn my nose. I had assumed that the smell was associated with the gas plant near my house. It wasn’t until years later that I discovered the smell was coming from a fast food restaurant not to far away from where I walked. Because I could see the gas plant and new that a bad smell usually came from it, I perceived that the odder stinging my nose was a polluted stench. But I came to find out that the stench was not bad at all. Instead, it was a great fragrance of the greasy food I had enjoyed inhaling many times before in other areas of town. I believed one thing and my brain perceived the outside reality accordingly.
This tendency for our minds to perceive things that are not perfect forms of reality can cause conflict in different relationships. An argument between two people might result from misperceiving the reality of a situation. One person may have perceived one thing a person was doing or saying and judged that person, while that other person may have been trying to do something else entirely. An argument may result when it could have easily been avoided through a mutual understanding of the actual reality of the situation.
Though there are many bad things that can result from this difference of perception and reality there are also some benefits. Because our brain’s perception can be distorted, the mind is able to make adjustments for the human senses. Within the eye, at its center, there is a gap where cones and other light receptors are missing. This gap acts as a blind spot. When one looks at an object, he should not be able to see it as a whole. Instead, there should be a gap in it where his eye is not sensing the reflected light. The brain, however, takes what it knows about the reality of the object and fills in this gap allowing the human to see it exactly in its actual form.
So reality is definitely not the same as what we perceive. It is a stable, unaffected entity that exists independent of our realm of belief and perception. Realizing the true implications of this fact could be a great step towards understanding how to deal with differences in perception and how to appreciate the alterations our brain makes, through perception, to give our senses a fuller view of reality. The mind is truly amazing, reality is truly amazing, and the interaction that occurs between the two, however distorted or beneficial, is also truly amazing.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
B.F. Skinner and Conditioning
Think of the world in which you live. Consider the interactions of everyone you have ever seen. Imagine the government and the motivations which drive it to continue existing. Look at the American economy at how it thrives and fails. Think of how any given business flourishes. Now, consider the motivations that drive you, specifically, to do what you do. What is the common denominator in all of these circumstances? Simply answered, it is free will. Because they chose to do so, people interact with each other. Because they had great goals for themselves and America, people utilize their free choice to do what they did whether they had dinner with a friend, started a business, or ran as a presidential candidate. If free will is taken out of the equation, these seemingly easy-to-operate, social functions and interactions would cease to be what they are. B.F. Skinner believed that man could live in a society without free will. In fact, He believed that man would thrive, as he had never thrived before, in such a world. His basic idea was to eliminate free will and put, in it is place, conditioning. This conditioning would mold the actions of humans until they did what they needed to do and nothing else. As I said before, this world could never be. To take free will out of the equation was to take humanity and even the essence of life out of everything that is done in this world.
B.F. Skinner discovered a lot about the behaviors of living things. He used something he called conditioning to create a desired chain of behaviors or reactions from the animals he tested.
Now called operant conditioning, this method was tested on rats. Skinner created a “Skinner box” which contained a rat, a lever, and food. At one point in the experiment the rat accidently knocked the lever and food pored out a container into the animal’s tray. It didn’t take too long for the rat to become aware that if he pulled the lever, he would be rewarded with food.
This method of conditioning, unlike classical conditioning, required a behavior from the animal before any sort of worth-wild stimulus would appear. Once the behavior occurred—in this case the behavior was the rat hitting the lever—the stimulus would occur—in this case the stimulus was the food.
Skinner’s method of conditioning did not just include rats. Monkeys and many other different animals were conditioned to behave in different ways.
Not all of Skinner’s methods were as simple as a rat pulling a lever. The behaviors could be long and complex turning into a chain or series of actions which would finally lead to a desired stimulus.
After much research and experimenting, Skinner believed that it was possible to use this method of conditioning to make anyone behave desirably. He believed that the whole human race could be conditioned to become a utopian society. Humans would do the right things and then they would be rewarded with some sort of stimulus.
At first glance, maybe Skinner’s idea of conditioning to create a Utopia does not seem all that unrealistic. But, after much examination, the idea does become very absurd. His plan would eliminate free will, thinking, and even individual purpose to create a “supposedly” better world. In the end, however, he would only produce brain washed individuals who did things so that they could receive a desired stimulus such as food or money. Even if it was possible to control people’s behavior through this conditioning it would not make the world, the economy, the government, or individual lives any better. In fact, it would make all of those things worse if not completely useless.
Everything we do is out of a desire of the body and the mind. We all have preconceived ideas which make us act as we do. To try to reduce those ideas and thoughts into a series of controlled, manipulated actions would make our functioning world a non-functioning dictatorship. The economy would no longer be stimulated but, instead, would decline as people no longer purchased what they wanted. The government would no longer function on the ideals and values of free thinking individuals but on a standard that might not meet the needs of the people. Individual interaction would be reduced to nothing more than meaningless actions made to produce a desired stimulus. Humanity would cease to be humanity and all social institutions would cease to function.
Though conditioning would not be effective in creating a utopian society, conditioning could be used effectively in every day life. Imagine if one had a child that did not want to clean his room. If that person were to treat this situation as Skinner might, he would first imagine that cleaning the room was a behavior. In order to produce this behavior in his child he would either promise to reward that child for cleaning his room or promise to take away an undesirable stimulus for cleaning his room. In this way, through operant conditioning, the child would clean his room—this would be the desired behavior—and in return, the child’s parent would reward his child—this would be the desired stimulus. Anyone could do this in any facet of his life. This could make life easier and better whether a person did it to his child, the people under him at work, or even to himself.
So in conclusion, was Skinner’s idea of creating a utopia through conditioning plausible? Not really. His idea would eliminate everything great about our society. His idea would reduce thinking and ideals to mindless actions. His idea would destroy what government, economy, and society we possess sucking it of its life and making it a monotonous useless beast. The only way the world as we know it can truly survive is through the free-thinking human individuals. We should do what we do because of our values not because of a mindless desire for food or money. In the end, though conditioning cannot create a utopia, it can still be used in every day life to make life better whether it is used on children, those subordinate to a person, or even on oneself. Yes, conditioning is an interesting and affective tool, but it should never be used as anything more than that. To make it into a weapon that would mold the world into a utopia is not only absurd but useless.
B.F. Skinner discovered a lot about the behaviors of living things. He used something he called conditioning to create a desired chain of behaviors or reactions from the animals he tested.
Now called operant conditioning, this method was tested on rats. Skinner created a “Skinner box” which contained a rat, a lever, and food. At one point in the experiment the rat accidently knocked the lever and food pored out a container into the animal’s tray. It didn’t take too long for the rat to become aware that if he pulled the lever, he would be rewarded with food.
This method of conditioning, unlike classical conditioning, required a behavior from the animal before any sort of worth-wild stimulus would appear. Once the behavior occurred—in this case the behavior was the rat hitting the lever—the stimulus would occur—in this case the stimulus was the food.
Skinner’s method of conditioning did not just include rats. Monkeys and many other different animals were conditioned to behave in different ways.
Not all of Skinner’s methods were as simple as a rat pulling a lever. The behaviors could be long and complex turning into a chain or series of actions which would finally lead to a desired stimulus.
After much research and experimenting, Skinner believed that it was possible to use this method of conditioning to make anyone behave desirably. He believed that the whole human race could be conditioned to become a utopian society. Humans would do the right things and then they would be rewarded with some sort of stimulus.
At first glance, maybe Skinner’s idea of conditioning to create a Utopia does not seem all that unrealistic. But, after much examination, the idea does become very absurd. His plan would eliminate free will, thinking, and even individual purpose to create a “supposedly” better world. In the end, however, he would only produce brain washed individuals who did things so that they could receive a desired stimulus such as food or money. Even if it was possible to control people’s behavior through this conditioning it would not make the world, the economy, the government, or individual lives any better. In fact, it would make all of those things worse if not completely useless.
Everything we do is out of a desire of the body and the mind. We all have preconceived ideas which make us act as we do. To try to reduce those ideas and thoughts into a series of controlled, manipulated actions would make our functioning world a non-functioning dictatorship. The economy would no longer be stimulated but, instead, would decline as people no longer purchased what they wanted. The government would no longer function on the ideals and values of free thinking individuals but on a standard that might not meet the needs of the people. Individual interaction would be reduced to nothing more than meaningless actions made to produce a desired stimulus. Humanity would cease to be humanity and all social institutions would cease to function.
Though conditioning would not be effective in creating a utopian society, conditioning could be used effectively in every day life. Imagine if one had a child that did not want to clean his room. If that person were to treat this situation as Skinner might, he would first imagine that cleaning the room was a behavior. In order to produce this behavior in his child he would either promise to reward that child for cleaning his room or promise to take away an undesirable stimulus for cleaning his room. In this way, through operant conditioning, the child would clean his room—this would be the desired behavior—and in return, the child’s parent would reward his child—this would be the desired stimulus. Anyone could do this in any facet of his life. This could make life easier and better whether a person did it to his child, the people under him at work, or even to himself.
So in conclusion, was Skinner’s idea of creating a utopia through conditioning plausible? Not really. His idea would eliminate everything great about our society. His idea would reduce thinking and ideals to mindless actions. His idea would destroy what government, economy, and society we possess sucking it of its life and making it a monotonous useless beast. The only way the world as we know it can truly survive is through the free-thinking human individuals. We should do what we do because of our values not because of a mindless desire for food or money. In the end, though conditioning cannot create a utopia, it can still be used in every day life to make life better whether it is used on children, those subordinate to a person, or even on oneself. Yes, conditioning is an interesting and affective tool, but it should never be used as anything more than that. To make it into a weapon that would mold the world into a utopia is not only absurd but useless.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
History Reaction Paper: Segregation
The world has seen its fair share of conflict. As the decades have passed by, a clash of ideas and values between different groups of people has always existed. Single acts of hostility based on misguided principles have caused immense world wars; conflict from opposing religious ideals has created much bloodshed and cruel, inhumane acts; and values with their own underhanded agendas or justice driven goals, have brought out the worst and best of humanity. In the late 1800’s, when African Americans were working up hill to find their rightful place in American society, another such conflict was causing commotion within the states. This fight of values between the Southern defiance of the south and the radical republicans of the north would continue for many decades. It was a sort of tug-a-war that would finally end, resolving the oppression of African Americans.
In 1892 Homer Plessey, an African American, boarded a train on the white section of one of the cars. During this time, Jim Crow laws made it impossible for black people to enjoy the luxury of white-run institutions. African Americans were, instead, separated from the white southerners. The environment they were consequently placed in proved less extravagant and, most of the time, below human standards.
Instead of hiding his identity, Plessey proudly proclaimed his ethnicity, drawing attention to the authorities in the train. After much arguing, the white powers threw him out because he would not comply with their segregation rules. This greatly angered Plessey and, by a monumental move, he attempted to fight the injustice he had experienced that day.
Plessey plead before the Federal Court that he had been treated unconstitutionally. This case became known as Plessey v. Fergusson. After a long hard fight Plessey’s plea was regretfully turned down.
Though Plessey did not win the case, he did gain the “equal but separate” clause. Black people would still be segregated from white people, but America had to ensure that black institutions were just as good as white institutions. Though the “equal but separate” clause promised equal treatment to black people, it became just another form of racial discrimination. The black were ultimately treated just as unfairly as they had before.
This discrimination lasted for fifty years until another landmark case, Brown v. Board of Education. In this 1956 court ruling, the “Equal but Separate” clause was deemed unconstitutional and racist. As a result, segregation within schools was demolished and black children were allowed to attend white institutions for the first time.
As great as this breakthrough seemed, it stirred up a hornets nest in the south resulting in the “Southern Manifesto” document written to the president. In this letter, the southerners accused the supreme court of abusing its judicial powers. The American government had its checks and balances. Not one of the three powers within the United States had supreme rule. The president answered to congress and the courts, congress answered to the president and to laws passed by the courts, and the courts answered to legislature and to the executive power.
According to southerners; by overruling segregation in American schools, the judicial branch had directly contradicted previous segregation laws passed by congress. The south also believed that the courts ruling undermined the constitution and encroached on the rights of the states and the people. The constitution had never mentioned anything about education and the 14th amendment did not seem to limit a states preferred educational method whether it segregated black people or not.
In general, the south was not happy with “Brown v. Board of Education” and it was willing to fight the court ruling. In one such case, the actions of a certain school called for the intervention of the President.
The Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas, fought adamantly against desegregation in America forming mobs to stop black people from going to their school. They held the core beliefs of the south and would not willingly allow black children to mingle with white children.
President Dwight D. Eisenhower was very angry with the schools retaliation to desegregation. He believed that laws, not men, were supreme within the United States. By ignoring the court order, this High school was directly contradicting that belief. In response, the president addressed the nation, countering the south’s actions by appealing to order and unity within America.
At the heart of their actions, the south was promoting chaos within the American nation. Through their mobs, they were trashing the ideals of government and were essentially saying that their pride as white Americans was more important than values and principles created by government.
Eisenhower saw these actions as not only a detriment to inner-national peace and unity, but also as a detriment to the United State’s international goals. Other nations would look at these racist acts against government rule and see a nation that was violating moral and ethical values. The president wanted to rule a nation that upheld human rights and that exemplified, to other nations, the core beliefs every government should have. He did not want to be apart of a hypocritical country that spoke for peace and equality among nations when it could not uphold peace or equality within its own boundaries.
Following his address to America, Eisenhower intervened in Arkansas by sending troops. These men would stop the mobs that had gathered against the courts ruling and would make sure that the school upheld the desegregation of black and white alike.
Dwight D. Eisenhower, by his very actions, demonstrated what it meant to be a great leader for the American nation. In a time of conflict, he took immediate action to uphold the values and beliefs of the nation he ruled. He promoted peace and equality within the United States and exemplified this same philosophy to the surrounding peoples. As I read Eisenhower’s address to the American people I was struck by how important our government is. If it were not for the ideals that our nation rests upon and for the great leaders like Dwight Eisenhower who upheld these ideals, we would cease to be a great nation. Instead we would sink into the depths of corruption and chaos.
In 1892 Homer Plessey, an African American, boarded a train on the white section of one of the cars. During this time, Jim Crow laws made it impossible for black people to enjoy the luxury of white-run institutions. African Americans were, instead, separated from the white southerners. The environment they were consequently placed in proved less extravagant and, most of the time, below human standards.
Instead of hiding his identity, Plessey proudly proclaimed his ethnicity, drawing attention to the authorities in the train. After much arguing, the white powers threw him out because he would not comply with their segregation rules. This greatly angered Plessey and, by a monumental move, he attempted to fight the injustice he had experienced that day.
Plessey plead before the Federal Court that he had been treated unconstitutionally. This case became known as Plessey v. Fergusson. After a long hard fight Plessey’s plea was regretfully turned down.
Though Plessey did not win the case, he did gain the “equal but separate” clause. Black people would still be segregated from white people, but America had to ensure that black institutions were just as good as white institutions. Though the “equal but separate” clause promised equal treatment to black people, it became just another form of racial discrimination. The black were ultimately treated just as unfairly as they had before.
This discrimination lasted for fifty years until another landmark case, Brown v. Board of Education. In this 1956 court ruling, the “Equal but Separate” clause was deemed unconstitutional and racist. As a result, segregation within schools was demolished and black children were allowed to attend white institutions for the first time.
As great as this breakthrough seemed, it stirred up a hornets nest in the south resulting in the “Southern Manifesto” document written to the president. In this letter, the southerners accused the supreme court of abusing its judicial powers. The American government had its checks and balances. Not one of the three powers within the United States had supreme rule. The president answered to congress and the courts, congress answered to the president and to laws passed by the courts, and the courts answered to legislature and to the executive power.
According to southerners; by overruling segregation in American schools, the judicial branch had directly contradicted previous segregation laws passed by congress. The south also believed that the courts ruling undermined the constitution and encroached on the rights of the states and the people. The constitution had never mentioned anything about education and the 14th amendment did not seem to limit a states preferred educational method whether it segregated black people or not.
In general, the south was not happy with “Brown v. Board of Education” and it was willing to fight the court ruling. In one such case, the actions of a certain school called for the intervention of the President.
The Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas, fought adamantly against desegregation in America forming mobs to stop black people from going to their school. They held the core beliefs of the south and would not willingly allow black children to mingle with white children.
President Dwight D. Eisenhower was very angry with the schools retaliation to desegregation. He believed that laws, not men, were supreme within the United States. By ignoring the court order, this High school was directly contradicting that belief. In response, the president addressed the nation, countering the south’s actions by appealing to order and unity within America.
At the heart of their actions, the south was promoting chaos within the American nation. Through their mobs, they were trashing the ideals of government and were essentially saying that their pride as white Americans was more important than values and principles created by government.
Eisenhower saw these actions as not only a detriment to inner-national peace and unity, but also as a detriment to the United State’s international goals. Other nations would look at these racist acts against government rule and see a nation that was violating moral and ethical values. The president wanted to rule a nation that upheld human rights and that exemplified, to other nations, the core beliefs every government should have. He did not want to be apart of a hypocritical country that spoke for peace and equality among nations when it could not uphold peace or equality within its own boundaries.
Following his address to America, Eisenhower intervened in Arkansas by sending troops. These men would stop the mobs that had gathered against the courts ruling and would make sure that the school upheld the desegregation of black and white alike.
Dwight D. Eisenhower, by his very actions, demonstrated what it meant to be a great leader for the American nation. In a time of conflict, he took immediate action to uphold the values and beliefs of the nation he ruled. He promoted peace and equality within the United States and exemplified this same philosophy to the surrounding peoples. As I read Eisenhower’s address to the American people I was struck by how important our government is. If it were not for the ideals that our nation rests upon and for the great leaders like Dwight Eisenhower who upheld these ideals, we would cease to be a great nation. Instead we would sink into the depths of corruption and chaos.
Friday, March 9, 2012
History Reaction Paper: The Cold War
Throughout the centuries, the world has thrived by the symbiotic relationships of nations. One nation helped another in its time of greatest need sacrificing some of its own resources for the protection and survival of that other nation. One nation preferred global dominance over mutual, unhindered peace, conquering and being conquered. One nation needed recourses and, in an attempt to maintain global peace, formed a relationship of trade and mutual trust with the other nations. Ultimately, the history of the world has been determined by these actions and reactions of peoples. Even some of the smallest decisions of individuals have been influenced by the international circumstances of that particular time.
During the late twentieth century, there was a great tension between two nations, Russia (USSR) and America (US). Both were considered great world powers. They had amassed a large amount of weapons and had even created the devastating atomic bomb.
The tension, however, was not great enough to cause a war. Though there were times when war seemed inevitable, always a period of calm would rebuild a temporary equilibrium between the two knocking heads. After only a short time, however, something else would surface causing the fear and tension to rise once more.
This sort of international fluctuation continued tearing at the nations and eventually provoked an interesting assortment of responses from different politicians.
Henry A. Wallace sympathized with the USSR and felt that Russia’s so called “hostility” was only retaliation to former abuse. In a letter he wrote to President Truman, Wallace related several different historical confrontations between Russia and other nations. He believed that Russia was a mistreated nation being tossed here and there amongst the many different world powers. It only seemed fair to Wallace that Russia should feel the need to build weapons like the atomic bomb and begin to form a large defensive force.
Though Henry A Wallace sympathized with the USSR, he did not condone the use of Atomic warfare. He believed such weaponry could only result in a bruised and battered land. According to him, atomic war would not address the problem of international conflict but would only make it worse.
Hitting at the heart of the issue, Wallace believed that world peace could only be achieved through America’s acceptance of the USSR, a mutual laying-down of certain weapons, and other forms of peaceful compromise. Once people understood that the world could thrive with coexisting, different political thought processes without the use of weapons of mass destruction; then international interaction could become a tranquil, functioning environment.
Wallace was making an important point that, at first, seems reasonable and effective. It would be wonderful if the world consisted of rational thinking, peaceful-minded people. International trade would be such a smoother process and so many devastating wars could be avoided.
But such a mindset would never pass the realm of theory. Humans are imperfect. They are not robots who, when commanded to do certain things, will always obey or listen. In an attempt to show a desire for peace, one nation could very easily lay down its weapons and take away the defenses it built. But another nation, full of humans that desire power and money, may just as easily utilize that opportunity to obliterate its enemy.
I tend to agree with an opposing view of this Cold War standoff between the US and USSR. Clark Clifford believed that Russia and its communist philosophy was a great danger to the United States and needed to be warily watched. The USSR was a large world power. It had men and weapons at its disposal and, as it made seeming compromises with other nations, was growing more powerful and more dangerous.
The Russians rationalized this massive armament and gaining of power by passing the blame to America. According to circulating “Kremlin propaganda” in Russia, Monopoly Capitalism threatened the world with war. In essence, this propaganda labeled America’s Ideology as an intimidation to the western hemisphere. In Clifford’s view, however, the USSR’s retaliation was a far greater threat than the so called dangerous Monopoly Capitalism of America. Russia’s foreign policy essentially prepared it for war against such main capitalist nations as America. This policy allowed for a great increase in its previous military strength which incorporated developing atomic weapons and guided missiles, gaining materials for biological warfare, training a strategic air force, and building submarines of great cruising range.
Clifford saw this threat and knew that it was only a matter of time before Russia used its recourses against America. He was adamantly against America laying down its defenses. The US could not just sit on its thumbs and let dogma like communism continue existing in the world. Ultimately, he knew, the USSR doctrine would either destroy or be destroyed. No amount of peace on America’s part would stop the damage.
I agree that America should have been well prepared for such a force as the USSR. Laying down weapons and living at peace with Russia would have been nice. But such an action was neither pliable nor logical. In a world of real hostility and little mercy where power, money, and paranoia overruled all rational action, being prepared for war and being wary of the enemy was the only way to survive. In theory, Wallace had a great idea, but, in practicality, Clifford had the best course of action.
During the late twentieth century, there was a great tension between two nations, Russia (USSR) and America (US). Both were considered great world powers. They had amassed a large amount of weapons and had even created the devastating atomic bomb.
The tension, however, was not great enough to cause a war. Though there were times when war seemed inevitable, always a period of calm would rebuild a temporary equilibrium between the two knocking heads. After only a short time, however, something else would surface causing the fear and tension to rise once more.
This sort of international fluctuation continued tearing at the nations and eventually provoked an interesting assortment of responses from different politicians.
Henry A. Wallace sympathized with the USSR and felt that Russia’s so called “hostility” was only retaliation to former abuse. In a letter he wrote to President Truman, Wallace related several different historical confrontations between Russia and other nations. He believed that Russia was a mistreated nation being tossed here and there amongst the many different world powers. It only seemed fair to Wallace that Russia should feel the need to build weapons like the atomic bomb and begin to form a large defensive force.
Though Henry A Wallace sympathized with the USSR, he did not condone the use of Atomic warfare. He believed such weaponry could only result in a bruised and battered land. According to him, atomic war would not address the problem of international conflict but would only make it worse.
Hitting at the heart of the issue, Wallace believed that world peace could only be achieved through America’s acceptance of the USSR, a mutual laying-down of certain weapons, and other forms of peaceful compromise. Once people understood that the world could thrive with coexisting, different political thought processes without the use of weapons of mass destruction; then international interaction could become a tranquil, functioning environment.
Wallace was making an important point that, at first, seems reasonable and effective. It would be wonderful if the world consisted of rational thinking, peaceful-minded people. International trade would be such a smoother process and so many devastating wars could be avoided.
But such a mindset would never pass the realm of theory. Humans are imperfect. They are not robots who, when commanded to do certain things, will always obey or listen. In an attempt to show a desire for peace, one nation could very easily lay down its weapons and take away the defenses it built. But another nation, full of humans that desire power and money, may just as easily utilize that opportunity to obliterate its enemy.
I tend to agree with an opposing view of this Cold War standoff between the US and USSR. Clark Clifford believed that Russia and its communist philosophy was a great danger to the United States and needed to be warily watched. The USSR was a large world power. It had men and weapons at its disposal and, as it made seeming compromises with other nations, was growing more powerful and more dangerous.
The Russians rationalized this massive armament and gaining of power by passing the blame to America. According to circulating “Kremlin propaganda” in Russia, Monopoly Capitalism threatened the world with war. In essence, this propaganda labeled America’s Ideology as an intimidation to the western hemisphere. In Clifford’s view, however, the USSR’s retaliation was a far greater threat than the so called dangerous Monopoly Capitalism of America. Russia’s foreign policy essentially prepared it for war against such main capitalist nations as America. This policy allowed for a great increase in its previous military strength which incorporated developing atomic weapons and guided missiles, gaining materials for biological warfare, training a strategic air force, and building submarines of great cruising range.
Clifford saw this threat and knew that it was only a matter of time before Russia used its recourses against America. He was adamantly against America laying down its defenses. The US could not just sit on its thumbs and let dogma like communism continue existing in the world. Ultimately, he knew, the USSR doctrine would either destroy or be destroyed. No amount of peace on America’s part would stop the damage.
I agree that America should have been well prepared for such a force as the USSR. Laying down weapons and living at peace with Russia would have been nice. But such an action was neither pliable nor logical. In a world of real hostility and little mercy where power, money, and paranoia overruled all rational action, being prepared for war and being wary of the enemy was the only way to survive. In theory, Wallace had a great idea, but, in practicality, Clifford had the best course of action.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
History Paper
The Southern defiance was determined to repel any civil rights the African Americans might attain after the Civil War. During this reconstruction period, Southerners increasingly persecuted former slaves. They used many forms of maltreatment including something known as lynching which was a brutal form of rogue governing in the Southern states. If a former slave attempted to do anything outside his rights as a second-class citizen, he would be convicted immediately of a heinous crime, usually rape, and would be burned, hung, or mutilated. It is frustrating to contemplate the African American’s predicament, and I definitely agree with the sentiments of certain journalists who wrote on such circumstances. No matter the justification, what Southerners did toward their fellow man was nothing less than criminal and illogical.
The excuses Southerners used to rationalize their behavior were astounding and
discouraging. According to Mary Church Terrell in her article on lynching, Southerners supposedly lynched African Americans to punish them for such ghastly crimes as rape. The statistics on rape in the United States during that time, however, did not come close to supporting the amount of lynching against former slaves.
Southerners also believed that those black people striving for equality were the very same rapists and murderers afflicting the American land. Mary went on to dispel that theory as well. According to her research, the educated, Northern, former slaves who strove for equality were not criminals. They were good members of society upholding the morals and laws of American society. It was the uneducated, oppressed black people in the south who primarily committed the crimes.
Southerners thirdly mistakenly stereotyped the whole African American race. They attributed the few horrific crimes committed by a very small fraction of the black population to all former slaves in the United States. According to Southerners, even the most moral, intelligent African American was not capable of hating rape or rejecting it as something acceptable.
Mary Church Terrell was right when she accused the Southerners of lying and murder. They were committing crimes in the name of justice. Instead of sharing power with African Americans, they attempted to put the former slaves in a second class position. By their acts of passionate hate, the Southerners destroyed moral and ethical boundaries and became, in essence, the kind of people they hated.
As I read an account of Samuel Petty’s lynching I grimaced at the general acceptance of the crowd. Even the young twelve-year-old children chased after the African American and participated in the gruesome lynching process. The whole town was involved. No one cared whether they were seen. According to a reporter from the Crisis, “no one attempted to hide their identity”. Everyone shamelessly beat, mutated, and burned Samuel Petty. Even the jury on the case was involved in the lynching.
This awful reality was a normal occurrence and acceptable practice during that time. It was a result of years of rationalization and indoctrination. One white male approved of it and passed that approval to his son who then passed it to his son. Because of this process, whole towns, like the one that lynched Samuel Petty, participated in what was essentially murder. No one was blamed or accused, and white families continued their lives.
These atrocious acts were immoral and rightfully frowned upon by such activists as Mary Church Terrell. In so many words, Mary made a great point. It would have been so much better if such indoctrination could have been stopped before it infected another generation. So many lives could have been saved and former slaves could have gained the freedom they rightfully deserved.
The excuses Southerners used to rationalize their behavior were astounding and
discouraging. According to Mary Church Terrell in her article on lynching, Southerners supposedly lynched African Americans to punish them for such ghastly crimes as rape. The statistics on rape in the United States during that time, however, did not come close to supporting the amount of lynching against former slaves.
Southerners also believed that those black people striving for equality were the very same rapists and murderers afflicting the American land. Mary went on to dispel that theory as well. According to her research, the educated, Northern, former slaves who strove for equality were not criminals. They were good members of society upholding the morals and laws of American society. It was the uneducated, oppressed black people in the south who primarily committed the crimes.
Southerners thirdly mistakenly stereotyped the whole African American race. They attributed the few horrific crimes committed by a very small fraction of the black population to all former slaves in the United States. According to Southerners, even the most moral, intelligent African American was not capable of hating rape or rejecting it as something acceptable.
Mary Church Terrell was right when she accused the Southerners of lying and murder. They were committing crimes in the name of justice. Instead of sharing power with African Americans, they attempted to put the former slaves in a second class position. By their acts of passionate hate, the Southerners destroyed moral and ethical boundaries and became, in essence, the kind of people they hated.
As I read an account of Samuel Petty’s lynching I grimaced at the general acceptance of the crowd. Even the young twelve-year-old children chased after the African American and participated in the gruesome lynching process. The whole town was involved. No one cared whether they were seen. According to a reporter from the Crisis, “no one attempted to hide their identity”. Everyone shamelessly beat, mutated, and burned Samuel Petty. Even the jury on the case was involved in the lynching.
This awful reality was a normal occurrence and acceptable practice during that time. It was a result of years of rationalization and indoctrination. One white male approved of it and passed that approval to his son who then passed it to his son. Because of this process, whole towns, like the one that lynched Samuel Petty, participated in what was essentially murder. No one was blamed or accused, and white families continued their lives.
These atrocious acts were immoral and rightfully frowned upon by such activists as Mary Church Terrell. In so many words, Mary made a great point. It would have been so much better if such indoctrination could have been stopped before it infected another generation. So many lives could have been saved and former slaves could have gained the freedom they rightfully deserved.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Chapter 2
Ryland moaned and focused on the room around him. Darkness surrounded every corner. No help there. Where was he? Something didn’t feel right. His ankles were in a great amount of pain and his head was about to explode. For some reason, all the blood had rushed to his head.
Both hands brushing across the wood floor, he realized that he was upside down. As he tried to kick his way out of ropes binding his ankles, he began to sway back and forth. His brown hair hung suspended downward.
What had happened? He was trying to remember the last thing he had seen. He remembered leaving school. He had walked through the ally past the rundown duplexes, through Baker’s Graveyard, and then into the new neighborhood towards the historic homes. He remembered some of the seniors coming up behind him. They had pushed him around a little and thrown his backpack into the bushes. There had been a serious discussion. He had been challenged to do something. What was it: old house; whispers in the dark? He had been terrified.
Then everything came back in a rush. He had been dared to go into the old Victorian home. Sweaty handed and shaking, he had walked into the house. He had heard a voice and had seen a figure. The figure had stepped into the hallway. He remembered feeling a sting on his arm. Then everything had gone black. Now he was hanging upside down helplessly, a perfect target.
All of the sudden uncertainty gave way to fear. The figure was somewhere in the house lurking, maybe even watching Ryland hanging disoriented in the dark. He tried more frantically to get out of the ropes. Swaying even more violently then before, he pushed against the floor to stabilize himself. Unfortunately, his left hand slipped and slid across the wood. He yelped in pain feeling a splinter dig into his flesh.
A floor board creaked in the corner and Ryland suddenly forgot the pain. “Who’s their,” he said. Silence ensued. “Please, say something!” He waited hoping that this was just some stupid, elaborate prank. The dark roomed remained silent and still. If this was a prank, he would never leave his house again. If it was real, well, he might not make it back to his house alive. Hanging in the dark, growing more tired by the minute, he wondered whether other young, helpless losers had been dared to go into this same house. Maybe he was only a high-school statistic, one of the young stupid percent whose gullibility had made him a great target for high-school jocks.
Another floorboard creaked. It groaned loud and long as if someone was leaning hard on the wood. In one last attempt to slip out of the bonds around his ankles, Ryland tried to pull himself up to grab the rope and loosen it. No luck. He fell back into his original hanging position cringing at the sudden sharp pain in his stomach. He remember the first day of high school, he had been given the choice of table tennis or PE. Out of pure practicality, he had picked table tennis. There was no way he could keep up in PE, at least, not with his body type, he remembered thinking. Now sore and unable to pull himself up, he wished he had picked PE.
Another sound from that same corner drew Ryland’s eyes away from where he thought his feet might be. He had a perfect view of that area in the room. Whoever, whatever it was crouching in the dark would not leave with out Ryland’s getting a glimpse. He waited, feeling the pressure growing in his scull. His eyes began to water and his hands began to tingle. Everything ached, he realized. Somehow, he had to do something to get away. Before long he would black out again. Probably for the last time.
Ryland pulled himself up an inch and let himself drop. The rope became tense and gave a little. His heart skipped a beat. He did this again and again. In a matter of minutes, he could feel his hair touching the ground. No doubt, the knot was almost completely undone. As he contemplated whether or not he should drop again, fearing that he might break his neck, the rope gave way altogether. He fell to the ground in a heap.
The sudden impact threw Ryland’s senses out the door. He tried to push himself off the ground but could not find the strength. His fingers slipped on the smooth wood surface and he went crashing down with another resounding THUD! Stars floated above his head. He gasped for breath. Rolling over onto his back he looked up at what was probably the ceiling. The blackness seemed to float around and he could hear his strained breathing.
“You can’t hide,”
The whisper sent shockwaves up Ryland’s spine, and Goosebumps across his arm. As strange as it seemed, the voice did not come from with in the room or, even, within the house. The sound originated inside his head.
“That’s right. I know what you are thinking.”
The voice cackled as it read Ryland’s deepest thoughts. When would the dizziness go away he wondered as he felt the whole house bend in towards him. If he were younger and believed in all of the fairytales, he might have thought the house was alive.
After what seemed like an eternity, Ryland was able to stand up and staggered towards the door way. But as he leaned in towards the wall to steady himself, he missed it altogether and almost fell flat on his face. Was it his imagination or had the wall moved? He moaned. It seemed as if the whole house was against him. Slipping through the opening of the door way he looked to his left. The corridor tapered off into complete darkness. Not an ounce of light revealed what lay beyond. Looking to his right, Ryland could just make out a dim light. The yellow glow illuminated a stair case and a large door. Freedom, he thought.
Was this really as easy as it seemed? Someone had taken the time to kidnap him and tie him up. Now he was going to walk out the door as if he had just come for a visit and was leaving? Ryland had been in high school long enough to realize that life wasn’t that easy. As he had learned to do some many times, he began to ask himself, What is the catch?
The answer was quickly manifest in the form of a scraping noise to Ryland’s left and a voice in his head. “The catch is simple,” the voice said. It seemed to understand his train of thought. He felt a sweat drop slide down his cheek. “Sadly,” the voice taunted, “You can escape, but only from your earthly body.” The scraping noise became louder.
Ryland took that as a hint and sprinted towards the front door. As he ran down the hall he passed a room glowing with light from a lamp. For just that second the whole world seemed to slow down. He looked into the room and could see an older man sitting in a recliner, eyes glued to a television screen. A bottle of beer, waded napkins, old newspapers and half eaten food lay on a table next to him. The floor appeared as dirty as the table. Old cloths covered the carpet. Piles of books lay in one corner of the room. Cardboard boxes lined the walls.
Ryland couldn’t remember seeing the light or the man earlier. But he did remembered the room. It had been covered with objects he had not been able to make out in the dark.
All of the sudden the world seemed to speed up again as he passed the room. Approaching the door, He grasped the door knob, twisting and pulling back as hard as he could. But it would not budge. He became more frantic by the moment and Looked over his shoulder. A figure step out of the shadows of the hallway and into the light. Ryland closed his eyes and tugged again.
“Nice try” the voice said sarcastically. “Now we are back to square one.” Ryland felt a strong arm grip his shoulder. "look into my eyes, so that you can know true fear." The voice was suddenly so much more menacing. Unable to avoide the temptation to look Ryland tilted his head upward but was suddenly stoped by another voice.
“Is anyone there?”
Ryland opened his eyes and noticed a man standing in the light. The same man had been in the lighted room just a second ago. His hair was scraggly and matted in some places. His glasses hung on the tip of his nose and were slightly crooked. His small, tight shirt hardly covered the belly that hung over his pants.
Ryland stood up noticing that his pursuer had vanished. “Sorry to bother you sir,” He said, walking towards the man, hoping for sanctuary from his tormenter. “My name is Ryland; I did not mean to trespass. I had no idea that anyone lived here.” He looked up into the man’s eyes.
The man did not even acknowledge Ryland’s existence. He shrugged his shoulders. “Must have been a cat,” he said turning and walking back into the lighted room.’
Ryland was left alone wondering what was happening to him.
Both hands brushing across the wood floor, he realized that he was upside down. As he tried to kick his way out of ropes binding his ankles, he began to sway back and forth. His brown hair hung suspended downward.
What had happened? He was trying to remember the last thing he had seen. He remembered leaving school. He had walked through the ally past the rundown duplexes, through Baker’s Graveyard, and then into the new neighborhood towards the historic homes. He remembered some of the seniors coming up behind him. They had pushed him around a little and thrown his backpack into the bushes. There had been a serious discussion. He had been challenged to do something. What was it: old house; whispers in the dark? He had been terrified.
Then everything came back in a rush. He had been dared to go into the old Victorian home. Sweaty handed and shaking, he had walked into the house. He had heard a voice and had seen a figure. The figure had stepped into the hallway. He remembered feeling a sting on his arm. Then everything had gone black. Now he was hanging upside down helplessly, a perfect target.
All of the sudden uncertainty gave way to fear. The figure was somewhere in the house lurking, maybe even watching Ryland hanging disoriented in the dark. He tried more frantically to get out of the ropes. Swaying even more violently then before, he pushed against the floor to stabilize himself. Unfortunately, his left hand slipped and slid across the wood. He yelped in pain feeling a splinter dig into his flesh.
A floor board creaked in the corner and Ryland suddenly forgot the pain. “Who’s their,” he said. Silence ensued. “Please, say something!” He waited hoping that this was just some stupid, elaborate prank. The dark roomed remained silent and still. If this was a prank, he would never leave his house again. If it was real, well, he might not make it back to his house alive. Hanging in the dark, growing more tired by the minute, he wondered whether other young, helpless losers had been dared to go into this same house. Maybe he was only a high-school statistic, one of the young stupid percent whose gullibility had made him a great target for high-school jocks.
Another floorboard creaked. It groaned loud and long as if someone was leaning hard on the wood. In one last attempt to slip out of the bonds around his ankles, Ryland tried to pull himself up to grab the rope and loosen it. No luck. He fell back into his original hanging position cringing at the sudden sharp pain in his stomach. He remember the first day of high school, he had been given the choice of table tennis or PE. Out of pure practicality, he had picked table tennis. There was no way he could keep up in PE, at least, not with his body type, he remembered thinking. Now sore and unable to pull himself up, he wished he had picked PE.
Another sound from that same corner drew Ryland’s eyes away from where he thought his feet might be. He had a perfect view of that area in the room. Whoever, whatever it was crouching in the dark would not leave with out Ryland’s getting a glimpse. He waited, feeling the pressure growing in his scull. His eyes began to water and his hands began to tingle. Everything ached, he realized. Somehow, he had to do something to get away. Before long he would black out again. Probably for the last time.
Ryland pulled himself up an inch and let himself drop. The rope became tense and gave a little. His heart skipped a beat. He did this again and again. In a matter of minutes, he could feel his hair touching the ground. No doubt, the knot was almost completely undone. As he contemplated whether or not he should drop again, fearing that he might break his neck, the rope gave way altogether. He fell to the ground in a heap.
The sudden impact threw Ryland’s senses out the door. He tried to push himself off the ground but could not find the strength. His fingers slipped on the smooth wood surface and he went crashing down with another resounding THUD! Stars floated above his head. He gasped for breath. Rolling over onto his back he looked up at what was probably the ceiling. The blackness seemed to float around and he could hear his strained breathing.
“You can’t hide,”
The whisper sent shockwaves up Ryland’s spine, and Goosebumps across his arm. As strange as it seemed, the voice did not come from with in the room or, even, within the house. The sound originated inside his head.
“That’s right. I know what you are thinking.”
The voice cackled as it read Ryland’s deepest thoughts. When would the dizziness go away he wondered as he felt the whole house bend in towards him. If he were younger and believed in all of the fairytales, he might have thought the house was alive.
After what seemed like an eternity, Ryland was able to stand up and staggered towards the door way. But as he leaned in towards the wall to steady himself, he missed it altogether and almost fell flat on his face. Was it his imagination or had the wall moved? He moaned. It seemed as if the whole house was against him. Slipping through the opening of the door way he looked to his left. The corridor tapered off into complete darkness. Not an ounce of light revealed what lay beyond. Looking to his right, Ryland could just make out a dim light. The yellow glow illuminated a stair case and a large door. Freedom, he thought.
Was this really as easy as it seemed? Someone had taken the time to kidnap him and tie him up. Now he was going to walk out the door as if he had just come for a visit and was leaving? Ryland had been in high school long enough to realize that life wasn’t that easy. As he had learned to do some many times, he began to ask himself, What is the catch?
The answer was quickly manifest in the form of a scraping noise to Ryland’s left and a voice in his head. “The catch is simple,” the voice said. It seemed to understand his train of thought. He felt a sweat drop slide down his cheek. “Sadly,” the voice taunted, “You can escape, but only from your earthly body.” The scraping noise became louder.
Ryland took that as a hint and sprinted towards the front door. As he ran down the hall he passed a room glowing with light from a lamp. For just that second the whole world seemed to slow down. He looked into the room and could see an older man sitting in a recliner, eyes glued to a television screen. A bottle of beer, waded napkins, old newspapers and half eaten food lay on a table next to him. The floor appeared as dirty as the table. Old cloths covered the carpet. Piles of books lay in one corner of the room. Cardboard boxes lined the walls.
Ryland couldn’t remember seeing the light or the man earlier. But he did remembered the room. It had been covered with objects he had not been able to make out in the dark.
All of the sudden the world seemed to speed up again as he passed the room. Approaching the door, He grasped the door knob, twisting and pulling back as hard as he could. But it would not budge. He became more frantic by the moment and Looked over his shoulder. A figure step out of the shadows of the hallway and into the light. Ryland closed his eyes and tugged again.
“Nice try” the voice said sarcastically. “Now we are back to square one.” Ryland felt a strong arm grip his shoulder. "look into my eyes, so that you can know true fear." The voice was suddenly so much more menacing. Unable to avoide the temptation to look Ryland tilted his head upward but was suddenly stoped by another voice.
“Is anyone there?”
Ryland opened his eyes and noticed a man standing in the light. The same man had been in the lighted room just a second ago. His hair was scraggly and matted in some places. His glasses hung on the tip of his nose and were slightly crooked. His small, tight shirt hardly covered the belly that hung over his pants.
Ryland stood up noticing that his pursuer had vanished. “Sorry to bother you sir,” He said, walking towards the man, hoping for sanctuary from his tormenter. “My name is Ryland; I did not mean to trespass. I had no idea that anyone lived here.” He looked up into the man’s eyes.
The man did not even acknowledge Ryland’s existence. He shrugged his shoulders. “Must have been a cat,” he said turning and walking back into the lighted room.’
Ryland was left alone wondering what was happening to him.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Chapter 1
“Not much for introductions are you?”
“Nah, I do what needs be done and leave the formalities to you white collar folks.”
“Well, if it suits you fine, I’ll…”
Joe pressed white knuckled fingers against his temple. His head was pounding as fast as his racing heart. The smoky room did not help ease the pain, and the unnoticed television show with its almost inaudible voices was only a blaring obnoxious light in the dark room.
Unable to focus on the T.V. screen or the wall or anything around him, he slapped at the end table. Head bent down, he felt along the scratched wood finally grasping a hold of a bottle. Brown liquid sloshed around within the glass as he flipped it up and gulped almost all of it down. He sighed. It burned. But it dulled the pain.
He rubbed his temple again pushing into the skin. A centralized pain formed just above his eye. It grew in intensity until the dull throbbing of the head ache subsided. The relief was short lived. As he stopped rubbing his forehead, the aching began again. He groaned loudly wishing for a quick painless death, which did not come.
Shadows stretched across the wall behind him, their eeriness a reminder of his past unease. Floor boards seemed to creak overhead where the attic, filled with old artifacts from before the First World War, lay desolate and uninhabited; except for the rats, of course. Joe had heard them scampering around plenty of restless nights.
In the midst of the pain, Joe stood up and stumbled to the first wall he could find. He leaned against the smooth structure finding comfort in its stability.
“I’m a mess,” he said through clenched teeth. He inched his way along the wall and limped into the kitchen wincing as he put weight on his sleeping leg. As he grabbed hold of the refrigerator and opened the door, he squinted at the bright light. It took a moment for his pupils to contract before he could inspect the contents within the fridge. As if to speed him on, his stomach began to growl and his hands began to shake. “Come on, where are you.” He looked around for a moment. “There,” he grabbed a bag of bread, some lunch meat, and a bottle of mayonnaise.
Five minutes later, he plopped back down into the chair and began chewing on his rubbery concoction. Mayonnaise oozed onto his fingers as he tried to tear the bread with his teeth. Grabbing the remote, he turned up the volume.
On the screen, a doctor was inspecting a young man’s arm. The young man’s fingers were swollen and very blue veins showed through his skin. Neither person looked overjoyed. “It looks like we might have to cut off your arm,” the doctor was saying, “You are not getting sufficient oxygen to the muscles,” He began pressing around the swollen hand.
Joe could hardly swallow his food and quickly changed the channel. Dora the Explorer popped up on Qubo. The animated girl was running with Boots across an old rickety bridge. Much better Joe thought, flipping the channel again. He did this again and again until the obvious truth came as an epiphany to him. The Television had nothing vaguely interesting to offer at the moment.
Flipping the T.V. off, he sat in silence and gulped down the last bit of sandwich. He rubbed his still-throbbing head. Food hadn’t help. The migraine was still there. The medicine cabinet had been exhausted of its recourses. Cold wet rags had lost their magical powers, and no amount of distraction could stop the pain. Alone in the dark room, listening to the sounds of inconspicuous forces, he wondered how long his head would pound. And of Course, wondering didn’t help either.
How long had it been since he had breathed. How long had it been since he had felt the warmth of a fire, or smelled wet spring grass? How long had it been since his mind had been free to think normal human thoughts, not plagued by paranoid feelings and dark concepts. A very long time, he guessed. It had to be the house. In his rationalizing, he always came back to the house. Old, creepy, filled with dark secrets he was happy not knowing, the house had an evil history to it. People had died there. Some had been young and innocent. Others had not.
The large Victorian-like home had been around since the early eighteen-hundreds. Wheat, cotton, and tobacco fields had once grown around the house where phone lines and stop signs now stood. Slaves by the hundreds had worked hard within those fields. They had been beaten for the smallest offences, and had huddled in their hovels at night only staying alive by the comfort of family and other loved ones.
During the civil war, deserters had hidden away in the house. Afraid for their safety, they had cringed and waited, hoping their captains would not find them. Some had been fatally wounded and had bled to death. Joe looked down at the hard wood floor. Probably died on this very floor, he thought with a shudder.
Not much later, certain noble, revolutionaries had hidden runaway slaves within the tunnels that lay underneath the house. The structure, abandoned and overlooked by the state during that time, had been a perfect hiding place for the poor slaves. Now its old deteriorating walls, warped floor boards, and rain weathered exterior housed a lonely delusional man and his poor excuse for possessions.
Joe chuckled to himself and cringed again as pain shot through his head and into his neck. He was definitely not the most intriguing thing that had happened to the house. But, He thought, that was a good thing. He was very happy with a safe, uneventful life. All he really wanted was his T.V. and enough lunch meat to last him until the turn of the century.
Thoughts of the past running through his head, he leaned back against the chair and imagined himself in thirty years. He would be well ahead of his mid-life crisis by then. The old house would probably still be standing and he would be their, like a loyal dog, clutching onto the old structure waiting for it to toppled over or completely decayed from the elements.
As his imagination ran through different scenarios, his eyes became heavier and heavier. All of the sudden he was aware of a clock ticking somewhere in the house. The sound was somewhat mesmerizing adding lead weights to his eyelids and dulling his already muggy brain. Minutes ticked by and space and time seemed to fade out of his awareness until his head dropped onto his should. His hand went limp and slid off of the arm rest.
On the edge of awareness and leaning dangerously toward total obliviousness, He heard someone or something whisper into his ear. “Hmmm,” Joe mumbled barely processing the almost inaudible sound.
“Come out. Show yourself and face me like a man,” The voice was so soft that Joe passed it off as part of a dream.
“Who…” he mumbled, but couldn’t finish the sentence. As he dropped off the edge of consciousness, a figure walked out of the shadows and leaned against a doorway. He chuckled softly to himself and watched Joe snoring away in the rocking chair. “Sleep tight,” the voice said, hoarse and menacing. “I have a lot in store for you.” He laughed and slipped back into the darkness, his cackle echoing eerily throughout the house.
“Nah, I do what needs be done and leave the formalities to you white collar folks.”
“Well, if it suits you fine, I’ll…”
Joe pressed white knuckled fingers against his temple. His head was pounding as fast as his racing heart. The smoky room did not help ease the pain, and the unnoticed television show with its almost inaudible voices was only a blaring obnoxious light in the dark room.
Unable to focus on the T.V. screen or the wall or anything around him, he slapped at the end table. Head bent down, he felt along the scratched wood finally grasping a hold of a bottle. Brown liquid sloshed around within the glass as he flipped it up and gulped almost all of it down. He sighed. It burned. But it dulled the pain.
He rubbed his temple again pushing into the skin. A centralized pain formed just above his eye. It grew in intensity until the dull throbbing of the head ache subsided. The relief was short lived. As he stopped rubbing his forehead, the aching began again. He groaned loudly wishing for a quick painless death, which did not come.
Shadows stretched across the wall behind him, their eeriness a reminder of his past unease. Floor boards seemed to creak overhead where the attic, filled with old artifacts from before the First World War, lay desolate and uninhabited; except for the rats, of course. Joe had heard them scampering around plenty of restless nights.
In the midst of the pain, Joe stood up and stumbled to the first wall he could find. He leaned against the smooth structure finding comfort in its stability.
“I’m a mess,” he said through clenched teeth. He inched his way along the wall and limped into the kitchen wincing as he put weight on his sleeping leg. As he grabbed hold of the refrigerator and opened the door, he squinted at the bright light. It took a moment for his pupils to contract before he could inspect the contents within the fridge. As if to speed him on, his stomach began to growl and his hands began to shake. “Come on, where are you.” He looked around for a moment. “There,” he grabbed a bag of bread, some lunch meat, and a bottle of mayonnaise.
Five minutes later, he plopped back down into the chair and began chewing on his rubbery concoction. Mayonnaise oozed onto his fingers as he tried to tear the bread with his teeth. Grabbing the remote, he turned up the volume.
On the screen, a doctor was inspecting a young man’s arm. The young man’s fingers were swollen and very blue veins showed through his skin. Neither person looked overjoyed. “It looks like we might have to cut off your arm,” the doctor was saying, “You are not getting sufficient oxygen to the muscles,” He began pressing around the swollen hand.
Joe could hardly swallow his food and quickly changed the channel. Dora the Explorer popped up on Qubo. The animated girl was running with Boots across an old rickety bridge. Much better Joe thought, flipping the channel again. He did this again and again until the obvious truth came as an epiphany to him. The Television had nothing vaguely interesting to offer at the moment.
Flipping the T.V. off, he sat in silence and gulped down the last bit of sandwich. He rubbed his still-throbbing head. Food hadn’t help. The migraine was still there. The medicine cabinet had been exhausted of its recourses. Cold wet rags had lost their magical powers, and no amount of distraction could stop the pain. Alone in the dark room, listening to the sounds of inconspicuous forces, he wondered how long his head would pound. And of Course, wondering didn’t help either.
How long had it been since he had breathed. How long had it been since he had felt the warmth of a fire, or smelled wet spring grass? How long had it been since his mind had been free to think normal human thoughts, not plagued by paranoid feelings and dark concepts. A very long time, he guessed. It had to be the house. In his rationalizing, he always came back to the house. Old, creepy, filled with dark secrets he was happy not knowing, the house had an evil history to it. People had died there. Some had been young and innocent. Others had not.
The large Victorian-like home had been around since the early eighteen-hundreds. Wheat, cotton, and tobacco fields had once grown around the house where phone lines and stop signs now stood. Slaves by the hundreds had worked hard within those fields. They had been beaten for the smallest offences, and had huddled in their hovels at night only staying alive by the comfort of family and other loved ones.
During the civil war, deserters had hidden away in the house. Afraid for their safety, they had cringed and waited, hoping their captains would not find them. Some had been fatally wounded and had bled to death. Joe looked down at the hard wood floor. Probably died on this very floor, he thought with a shudder.
Not much later, certain noble, revolutionaries had hidden runaway slaves within the tunnels that lay underneath the house. The structure, abandoned and overlooked by the state during that time, had been a perfect hiding place for the poor slaves. Now its old deteriorating walls, warped floor boards, and rain weathered exterior housed a lonely delusional man and his poor excuse for possessions.
Joe chuckled to himself and cringed again as pain shot through his head and into his neck. He was definitely not the most intriguing thing that had happened to the house. But, He thought, that was a good thing. He was very happy with a safe, uneventful life. All he really wanted was his T.V. and enough lunch meat to last him until the turn of the century.
Thoughts of the past running through his head, he leaned back against the chair and imagined himself in thirty years. He would be well ahead of his mid-life crisis by then. The old house would probably still be standing and he would be their, like a loyal dog, clutching onto the old structure waiting for it to toppled over or completely decayed from the elements.
As his imagination ran through different scenarios, his eyes became heavier and heavier. All of the sudden he was aware of a clock ticking somewhere in the house. The sound was somewhat mesmerizing adding lead weights to his eyelids and dulling his already muggy brain. Minutes ticked by and space and time seemed to fade out of his awareness until his head dropped onto his should. His hand went limp and slid off of the arm rest.
On the edge of awareness and leaning dangerously toward total obliviousness, He heard someone or something whisper into his ear. “Hmmm,” Joe mumbled barely processing the almost inaudible sound.
“Come out. Show yourself and face me like a man,” The voice was so soft that Joe passed it off as part of a dream.
“Who…” he mumbled, but couldn’t finish the sentence. As he dropped off the edge of consciousness, a figure walked out of the shadows and leaned against a doorway. He chuckled softly to himself and watched Joe snoring away in the rocking chair. “Sleep tight,” the voice said, hoarse and menacing. “I have a lot in store for you.” He laughed and slipped back into the darkness, his cackle echoing eerily throughout the house.
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