Journal Entry from the Perspective of Scout in To Kill A Mockingbird

Dear Journal,

Our new friend Dill just left us to head back to Meridian. With him as our company, my brother Jem and I spent a marvelous summer together practicing plays or daring each other to make the phantom of our county come out.

We live in Maycomb, Alabama, a town of rich history. Our ancestor Simon Finch is a fur trader and apothecary, who founded Finch’s Landing after escaping from religious persecution in England. Although many of my family members live at Finch’s Landing and make their living through cotton, Atticus, my father, has decided to follow a completely different path. He studies law, and owns a small office in Maycomb in which he practices laws by providing services to his clients. I live with my father, along with my brother, and Calpurnia, our cook, on the residential street in Maycomb. My mother died when I was two, so I have no memory of her and therefore I don’t miss her at all.

Maycomb is about twenty miles east of Finch’s Landing. It suffers severely from depression, leaving us fear for nothing but fear itself. People in our place are idle. With nothing to do, people walk around, spending their time on irrelevant tasks just so that the day would seem to pass by more quickly. My brother Jem and I always play together within the range of Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose’s house and the Radley Place. The Radley place is a location of mystery. It’s occupied by an unknown entity who evokes excitement, fear, and misery with the mere mention of his name. Popularly known as Boo Radley, he is not seen for many years since he gets himself in trouble by being part of a gang and locking Mr. Conner in the courthouse outhouse. To punish his son and to ensure that Boo causes no more trouble in the future, Boo’s dad locks him up in the house and treats him cruelly. Since no one has an accurate account of what really happens to Boo and his family, numerous rumors are spread about Boo. Although adults always warn us that the Radley place is ominous and brings bad luck, my brother and I see it as a place of wonder and discovery.

Do not mention this to Atticus, but I would probably venture into this dark yet exciting place someday in the future to satisfy my curiosity of Boo Radley.

Good night journal!

       

Poetic Response to "The Metaphor"

Miss Hancock, Please Forgive

A poetic response to "The Metaphor" by Budge Wilson

The day in grade 7,

The moment when Miss. Hancock unfolded the magical curtains to the marvelous world of Metaphor,

I was truly enchanted,

Captivated,

Entranced by the intriguing powers of language.

Her beautiful voice,

Flowing smoothly and ringing in the room, 

Sparked my enthusiasm,

My desire to express

With words.

She aroused my love for literature,

Empowered me with encouragement to pursue the passion,

Inspired me to transform feelings into splendid words.

But soon I fell into an abyss, a chasm so deep and dark that I could no longer see her

Or feel my own presence,

The destructive spirits of self-consciousness had seized and snatched me from the wonderful dream.

My sphere was shrouded with embarrassment and fear.

From day to day.

How many times have I woken up from nightmares,

Sweat pouring down from my forehead,

My body shaking with fear and humiliation.

Only because I had exchanged a glance with Miss Hancock.

But more devastating were my pain as I heard the laughter of my classmates,

Anger at my hesitance to stand up for her,

And guilt at my own cowardice for trying to ignore her,

Trying to pretend that I didn’t know her.

I had enclosed myself in a suffocating corner,

To avoid her hopeful eyes,

To run away from my own heart yelling at me with accusations.  

The day she ceased to go to school,

The morning when I realized with intense pain and sorrow that the flamboyant, enthusiastic, and dedicated Miss. Hancock had not and would never show up to English again,

The birds stopped singing, 

The sun stopped shining, 

And I stopped smiling.

My world, so full of betrayal and treachery, collapsed on me.

I tried to grab desperately onto every remaining bit of her,

I struggled to depict her face in my mind,

Luminous, amazing and brightly shone with the color of gold.

But it evaporated so quickly, so fast like arrows being released from a bow,

And her dazzling and attractive self transformed into someone defeated and tense,

Someone who had lost her meaning in life.

I screamed out my terror,

I could no longer see,

I was blindfolded with guilt and regret.

I knew it was me,

I was the one to blame.

Miss Hancock

Please Forgive Me. 

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