Rationale
The short American story “A Rose for Emily” is written by William Falkner. The tale uses the short life of Miss. Emily as a miniature to show the conflict between the age-old sensibilities and the new emerging traditions. He also uses a rose as a symbol of Miss. Emily’s life: short and easy to destroy. The writer uses this female character as the generation symbol to show the fate of the Aristocratic South as history moves forward.
In the following, the protagonist of this fragment is a young office clerk, who doesn’t know Miss. Emily but needs to go with other colleagues to collect taxes from her. This narrative will depict environment and detail Miss. Emily’s situation from the side. I will focus on showing a different aspect of Miss. Emily, lonely, old-fashioned but also miserable and constantly haunted by her family name. I would try to use the details of dressing to show my understanding of its background and therm.
The short American story “A Rose for Emily” is written by William Falkner. The tale uses the short life of Miss. Emily as a miniature to show the conflict between the age-old sensibilities and the new emerging traditions. He also uses a rose as a symbol of Miss. Emily’s life: short and easy to destroy. The writer uses this female character as the generation symbol to show the fate of the Aristocratic South as history moves forward.
In the following, the protagonist of this fragment is a young office clerk, who doesn’t know Miss. Emily but needs to go with other colleagues to collect taxes from her. This narrative will depict environment and detail Miss. Emily’s situation from the side. I will focus on showing a different aspect of Miss. Emily, lonely, old-fashioned but also miserable and constantly haunted by her family name. I would try to use the details of dressing to show my understanding of its background and therm.
The document laid on my desk and the folder block seems to be very old and when I blew a breath to it, a faint dust rose from it: It is a tax remainder for my office. Opening the folder, a small tiny yellow photo was stuck on the document. It is a photograph of an old lady: her head arise higher than her knee; the once bright marking of her beauty had already goes to be wrinkles and gray hair. The name box was written: Emily Grierson.
Miss Emily’s house laid on the obscure corner of the town. The street number had already shorn off, and we spend so much time finding the house. When we walked into the darkness that was the house, a sepulchral house that seemed to distribute the trace of the 18-century literature, and we could also see the old scenery that had been a black air devoured. My collages had tried to ring the doorbell, but the only thing left was the bell burning their ears. They had knocked on the door a few times, and finally called out her name:”Mrs. Emily? Can you please open the door? ”,I felt like an centre had pass away.
Finally, the old Negro appeared and brings us into the dim hall; he didn’t even look at us and said anything. When we walked into a house, which has had no visitor for a few years, others, who seems like they are the mistresses to check their servant’s work started to inspect every detail in the house There has no more sliver gleamed in the fusty windows. The sunshine is a delightful cheer outside of the house—like the people were glad when they though Mrs. Emily would be humanized when her father is gone.
Nothing really surprised me, except the extremely bulky painting on the wall. The interesting-looking carved frame, which had once been golden, the flowers which were glamorous and twisting around on the frame. The noise of the colorful decoration seems to brother the lady quietly reading inside the frame, who seemed to grow a little way into the painting. The distinguishing features of the intellectual family, the curly, golden hair, her twinkling eyes, and the rubicund was raised by her youth and the staid, stifling black dress, formed as signaled of her figure. The black dress seemed as though it were tracking her insides, the feudal etiquette, and especially the inexhaustible family burden. “Young innocence is the best luxury of beauty,” one of them said, “This is Emily, if I don’t have my memory wrong.” I was at a loss, even if I hadn’t been here for a few years; no one had mentioned this lady inside the frame. She was so attractive, so I stared at her out of necessity and felt as though I can hear something from her--- something must have happened to her after that. I can heard the slightly voice from the frame, but it slipped away when I wanted to catch it.