Jekyll and Hyde 4

During my reading of the final chapter, I began to fully realize the background and reasons for the actions Jekyll took. The main thought I had was that Jekyll was seriously tempted and haunted by demons. Temptation is of the devil, and that was his main drive to further experimenting with the potion that turned him into Hyde. Not only was the temptation over-powering, but his desire for the knowledge of "what if" was driving him to drastic measures to test his boundaries and capabilities. Everyone suffers from temptations, but it's what we do about it that determines the outcome. We can choose to ignore it or indulge, but the difficulty brings people to lean towards giving in. It may be difficult to walk away from the things you want, but the reward is 100 times better than the temptation itself. Imagine if smokers had never tried a cigarette before. Imagine every single person that was tempted by smoking had simply walked away. The decrease in the amount of people dying from lung cancer would be astronomical. Families would never have lost a loved one, and citizens would never be suffering. Now imagine the same thing for alcoholics, and drug dealers. The world would be so different if we didn't give in to our temptations. It may be a difficult process, but if you overlook that and focus on the benefits? You would never think twice about saying "no". This is exactly what happened to Jekyll. He wanted to test his abilities, see what he was capable of. He wanted to know what would happen if he tried, and what would happen if it worked. The possibilities with having a double personality could be life-changing, and he just wanted a piece of it. But it's like eating cake. You just want a tiny sliver, but then it turns into a whole piece. That's fine, but now you've eaten the whole cake. Before you realize it, you're 400 pounds and still stuffing your face. Jekyll's experiment was successful, but it wasn't enough. He wanted the constant high of the victory, and it required a constant flow of drinking the potion. Before he realized it, temptation had completely taken over, and it literally killed him from the inside out. The desire for unnatural delight and knowledge can be strong, but the consequences are overpowering...I promise.

Jekyll and Hyde 3

In sorrowed despair, the tale be true,
that evil is living somewhere inside you.
Be that as it may, do not worry yet.
But when nightmares control you, you might need to fret.
For a tale is told, a tale about men,
Whom are becoming the demons that swarm through their head.
Through potions and science, and within a few months,
Jekyll found the way to being two people at once.
One half was himself, a doctor with pride.
But the other was a terrible, hate-worthy side.
The second took over, and wiped out the good.
Leaving Jekyll a malicious scoundrel if you would.
He had no control; he was fully possessed.
But the demons within him could not be confessed.
Now his efforts were in vain, and pointless from the start.
For you can not be granted privilege if you have a blackened heart.

Jekyll and Hyde 2

This novel has taken an unexpected turn within the last couple chapters. Hyde has practically fallen off the face of the Earth, never to be seen again, and the trio of friends - Lanyon, Jekyll, and Utterson - have all become sick in some sort of way. Jekyll and Lanyon are physically ill, yet Lanyon is in much worse condition. Utterson however seems to have more of an emotional sickness. Haunting thoughts and questions possess his mind, and worry for his friend has eaten away at his nerves. The murder case involving Mr. Hyde has kept everyone alert and on the edge of their seat, yet the news has faded into oblivion at the same time. Now, Jekyll is wallowing in solitude, hardly even allowing his dear friend Utterson to visit him in his current state. The door has been shut in Utterson's face countless times, and he has come to the point of almost hoping to be denied entrance. Lanyon, on the other hand, became even sicker and died in his sleep; making the trio of friends nothing more than a pair of bitter men, growing apart more and more each day. There is no doubt that Utterson truly cares for Dr. Jekyll, but one's patience and energy can only make it for so long.
In addition to the tension between the friends, Utterson inherited an envelope from Lanyon during the poor man's funeral. Within the envelope was another enclosure, sealed and marked as "not to be opened until the death or diappearance of Dr. Henry Jekyll." Utterson was curious, but would feel unloyal if he were to open it before stated, so he tucked it into a corner in his safe. More questions aroused to me from the text after reading these passages. Why is Jekyll being so sullen and withdrawn? What do all the letters given to Utterson mean? What did Utterson mean by "Henry Jekyll forge for a murderer!" on the last page of chapter 5? And when will we see Hyde again? These questions will hopefully soon be answered, but for now I am still trying to understand the general vast mysteries of this book.

Jekyll and Hyde 1

This novel written by Robert Louis Stevenson is both confusing and frustrating. It gives the image of both pure and contorted evil, yet it is unclear which is more prominent. Hyde is an irrational man, deformed by both physical appearance and emotional expression, it seems. He heartlessly tramples a young girl in the streets, and continues on as if he never even noticed her. This causes tension and anger from townfolk and the girl's family towards him. However, Dr. Jekyll seems to find some kind of characteristic in Hyde that keeps him interested in his company. Mr. Utterson on the other hand, the current main character of the story, has the opposite feelings toward Mr. Hyde. He finds distate and oppression toward the man, and wants Dr. Jekyll to have the same thought. As Mr. Utterson took note at Hyde's appearance, "Mr. Hyde was pale and dwarfish, he gave an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation, he had a displeasing smile, he had borne himself to the lawyer with a sort of murderous mixture of timiduty and boldness, and he spoke with a husky, whispering and somewhat broken voice; all these were points against him, but not all of these together could explain the hitherto unknown disgust, loathing and fear with which Mr. Utterson regarded him." (52)It is clearly stated that Mr. Utterson has a strong dislike toward the other man, yet he cannot quite conclude what caused such strong emotions.

Not only does the advanced vocab and irregular flow to the text confuse me, but the shadowed mystery and unanswered questions frustrates me during the reading. I do not understand things like; Why is the door so important? Why does Mr. Utterson want Dr. Jekyll to rid himself of Hyde? Why does Dr. Jekyll have a will that has to do with Mr. Hyde? Why does Mr. Utterson have the will? And other questions as well. Normally, an author would shed light on the subject soon after the question is considered, but Stevenson does not do this. He keeps us in suspense for too long, giving an irritated feel for the book. By the time he hints reasons for these things, I won't even remember what my question was. This might keep us reading, but it also makes me want to stop. Either way, Hyde and Utterson share an uneasy air of evil lurking in their veins. Hyde is more upfront with his behavior, while Mr. Utterson only shows small feelings and actions that might hint a relationship with hellish and Satanic ways. Words like fire, spirits, menace, and superstition have been used in sentences involving Mr. Utterson. These terms give a sort of demonic presence in the man, yet not enough to cause him to lash out or become violent. It simply eats away at him in his mind and in his sleep. Hyde on the other hand is more deformed in physical and emotional ways. He is not always in control of his actions and words, giving off a feeling of possession over him. However, we as humans are not always in control of our words and actions as well. What does this say about our overall spiritual life?

The Girl At The Window Seat - short story

I’ve never been much of a dare devil; amusement parks and big office buildings just never appealed to me as pleasant places. The thought of this suddenly brings back a time in 8th grade. My friends had planned a day during spring break to visit Great America; Illinois’ largest theme park. I wasn’t interested in the idea, but before you knew it: I was standing in line for the Raging Bull; the mother of all roller coasters there. Within an hour, we were resting in our hard, colorful seats that were nothing more than a curvy cutout in the shiny steel frame. All that held us down was a black pole with a blue top that went between our legs and clicked into place. No straps. No buckles. No seatbelts to wrap around my body and make me feel safe; only this flimsy rod with handles on it so we could hold on for dear life during the ride.
By now, ultimate fear and adrenaline is taking over me. My hands are shaking so much, I can barely even pull the lap bar into place. My breathing is heavy and erratic, and my heart is threatening to thump out of my chest and bounce away. Before I can reconsider my choice, the ride starts and our car jerks forward as it begins its journey. The crawl up to the first drop is long and agonizing. I sit there and glare at the clouds, trying to keep from vomiting. Like a snake on its belly, yet not as smooth, the coaster bumps and bounces up the tracks. Eventually, we reach the top, and our car lurches forward; my stomach dropping to the floor faster than a butterfly can flap its wings. But everything moves in slow motion once my gaze falls to my lap harness. Something must have gone wrong, because the pole is loose and wobbly; not even holding me in place anymore. My heart stops beating, then shocks back to life and begins pulsing faster than ever before. The world is still in slow motion, the screams and laughter around me seem distant and unusual. I grasp the harness with every ounce of strength I can muster up. As the coaster takes another freefall, my stomach plummets and my inertia threatens to throw me out of my seat. The seatbelt is still broken, but nobody seems to notice my tormenting situation. The ride continues on, and I suddenly vision myself rolling out of the car and onto the tall tracks that take us through the air as if we were flying. The wheels of the metal beast are like wings keeping us airborne as we soar over the park below us. The track takes us into a series of twists and turns, and eventually it’s too much; I can no longer hold on for myself. We hit another sharp right turn, and my biggest fear comes true as I am thrown out of the coaster. As I freefall through the air, my feelings of terror and helplessness crawl up my throat and suffocate my vocal chords; preventing any scream or sound. As I continue my silent descent from 200 feet, I accept my fate; I am going to die. I am going to die from a harness malfunction on a roller coaster. I am going to die falling through the air, listening to the screams and laughter of oblivious adrenaline junkies. I am going to die alone, in the last place I had even imagines visiting. But most importantly, I am going to die in absolute silence; without even the dignity of a scream to dignify the finality of my life.
And then the coaster halts to a stop.
My eyes unglue, and I realize we are at the end of the tracks, slowly approaching the platform. Cheers and applause come from the riders in ovation to the quality of the last 3 minutes. I look down at my lap and see my harness, exactly the way it was the beginning of the ride. Confusion and utter shock seep in as I realize it was all just imagination. Fake. Never happened. My friends laughed as they pointed at my face, saying “Geez, Mike! You look like you just saw a ghost” repeatedly. I told them I got the point; they could drop it now. But they didn’t care. It came up in every conversation for a month after that, and I eventually avoided hanging out with them. I had experienced the most terrifying moment in my existence, and they were going to harass me for it? But that was years ago. I’m 35 now, and my paranoia has followed me for all this time. I don’t trust myself or my thoughts; as if anything I do is another fantasy. I hardly associate with people voluntarily, and I take offense at every moment of eye contact I make with another human being; as if they are laughing at me in silence. This feeling only aroused after the roller coaster incident, and I pondered how long it would last as I looked out my window, 37,000 feet above the ground. I am on an airplane, on my way to San Francisco for a mandatory business meeting. Ironic, huh? I had to go to the meeting if I wanted to stay employed, and I had to take a plane if I wanted to be there on time. It has been the longest trip I have ever taken in my life, yet I’ve only been onboard for about an hour. Even so, thoughts of storms, shootouts, and terrorist attacks flooded my mind as I scanned the seats for unfriendly faces. My gaze fell upon a woman in the row diagonal from me, sitting in the window seat with no one next to her. She was staring at me with a blank expression; her eyes were neither fierce nor pleasant. She had raven black hair that fell past her elbows, and her silky white dress seemed to be flowing, although there was no breeze anywhere in the plane. No matter how hard I tried to pry them away, my eyes were locked on her. I felt as if I’d seen her before, but I did not recognize her as even a past acquaintance. Who are you? I wondered, and was startles when I heard a voice - not of my own - whisper back. I could not make out what was said, but the voice spoke again. I am you. It said in a soft, feminine reply. I was no longer startled; I was scared. I looked once more at the girl in the window seat, and she had not moved an inch. You have lived your life in a shell. You have not fully experienced your talents and opportunities. You are a lonely, withdrawn man. You do not deserve the soul you were given said the feminine voice, louder this time. What are you talking about? I said in my mind, my heart racing. This seemed ridiculous, but I knew it was the girl that had to be speaking to me…in my head…without even opening her mouth… This is crazy. This isn’t real, it’s just my imagination I thought, and went back to staring out my window. I can hear you. And you’re wrong. I’m as real as anything. I’m as real as the tie on your suit. I’m as real as the plane you’re sitting in. And I’m as real as all the life that’s below you. But I’m going to show you just how fragile life is. You take yours for granted, and for that, you will be punished. I was about to ask what she meant, but then the plane started bouncing, as if we were in a bumpy car ride. People started murmuring, wondering what the problem was. A beeping alarm warned us of a problem, and we all looked to the front of a plane, where a man in uniform was standing. He explained of unexpected turbulence, and asked everyone to remain calm and seated. But before he could finish his instructions, an explosion came from the cockpit and obliterated the front of the plane, flames engulfing the man that was speaking and the first few rows of people. Passengers began screaming and crying, and the plane became uncontrollable. We spun and rolled through the air as we began literally falling out of the sky. Families held close to each other, crying and praying. Dead bodies lay bloody and mangled where debris and fire had hit them. Flames were creeping through the hole where the cockpit used to be.
I looked over at the girl with the raven hair and flowing dress, and she was sitting in the same position, perfectly calm in her seat. I told you so she mouthed. I wanted to throw up and curl up in a ball at the same time. I looked around at the innocent people, children even, that she was killing. This is wrong I thought. THIS IS WRONG! But that wasn’t enough. I stood up, pointed at the girl, and screamed at her. “This is wrong! You are killing innocent people!” She simply smiled at me, and said nothing in response. I didn’t even know how she was doing it: with powers or something? But that wasn’t even important. She was punishing me, and killing all of these people to do it. A sickening feeling suffocated my organs, but I stood up and got to the middle of the aisle. The plane was slowly going into a nose dive, the open hole covered in flames was point toward the ground where we would soon be crashing. My grip on two of the seats was all that kept me onboard. Remember me I thought to myself. Then I screamed it to the world; I screamed for them all, everyone on board to never forget me. My voice faded into the background as I lunged from my spot, falling into the hole of flames. This would be the day that I did not have fear. I didn’t do what others expected. My final moments will be remembered here; falling through the fire and the flames. My existence perished here, in the blazing inferno that swallowed all that was left.