Coulisse

…Which should really be the sixth, but… not happening. The following post is based on a dream that I bang my head against the wall trying to figure out.

It was the middle of winter. Fresh snow blanketed the ground. The snow crunched under my feet as I briskly walked along. I knew I should feel cold, but it felt like nothing could touch me. Not even the weather. I took my cellphone out and looked at the reflective surface. My skin was paler than usual, and under my lids rested purple–still. I wondered how long I’d looked like that before I’d noticed two days ago.

They were waiting when I got there. They both stood in their black jackets, waiting for my arrival. We stood there on the basketball court, watching each other.

Irene was tall. Her tan skin had since gone pale, just like mine had. Her hair was jet black, but the Change hadn’t done that to her. There she stood, looking very calm and cool in her black attire.

Keeva was the shortest of us, not to mention the girliest. Only she could take an all-black ensemble and make it look cute. Her naturally black hair fell over her now-pale face. Her blue, wire-rimmed glasses rested delicately on her nose.

Then there was me. The one who’d always been paler than most people, even before the Change. My hair hadn’t changed color at all. It shouldn’t have. It was still a dark brown. My freckles, though, had started to fade away. The grey of my normally hazel eyes was already taking over my iris. My vision was sharpened by about a million times. I didn’t need to breathe as much as I used to. My blood was colder. I was different. I was one of the Changed.

I tugged at my scarf, as if it actually made my neck hot. I cleared my throat, but couldn’t find my voice.

“You sleep well?” Keeva asked, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

I shook my head. “I didn’t sleep at all.” I was surprised at the hoarseness of my voice. “You guys get back okay from the party?”

“Yeah, but man, I was so smashed,” Irene said. “I think I may’ve . . . eaten.”

“Would it really even matter, now?” I asked. “I mean, the three of us just disappear into thin air, and then a few days later, we’re back, unusually pale and different.”

“We can explain the paleness,” Keeva said. “I mean, it’s winter. Don’t people get pale then anyways?”

“We need to get out of here,” I said. Through the past days, I’d been the one that had come out the strongest, the most mature. The others seemed a little scared of this alien thing. I had neutral feelings about it.

“We have to take my brother,” Irene said. “He’s been One for a while.”

“I guess we could take Tristan,” I muttered, thinking it out. “But will he want Heather to come?”

“Well, she is his girlfriend,” Keeva reasoned. I’d almost forgotten she was there. She really had gotten quiet after the Change.

“But she’s not one of us,” I said. “What if we . . . hurt her? What if she gets captured, or lets our secret slip?”

“Jeez, Alexis, you know Heather wouldn’t do that!” Irene said with strain. “And come on, she’s our friend.”

“I know, I know, but what if people harass her about us? I don’t want her to get hurt because of the Change,” I said. Really, I did want to bring Heather, but she was just going to be in danger, even dead weight. But if Heather didn’t go, then neither would Tristan, which would make Irene stay. That would leave just me and Keeva. I truthfully don’t know what she would do.

“But dude, it’s my brother–” Irene began to say, before I cut her off.

“He isn’t your brother!” I shouted, rage filling every bit of me. “He’s in no way related to you by blood! No, he can come with us if he wishes to survive and remain inconspicuous. But if he wants to stay with his–” I didn’t have enough time to finish that sentence, because someone else cut me off.

“Hey! Blood-suckers!”

We all slowly turned to see a crowd. A crowd of people we knew and loved, people who we belonged with before our Change. Everyone we’d ever cared about was there. Even Damon. Most of the crowd held things like crosses, rosaries, cloves of garlic, even little vials of water that was supposedly holy. Stakes of ash wood and bibles were in their hands. I saw a priest among them. Looked like they were even ready to preform an exorcism.

“Well, someone did their homework,” I said loud enough for them to hear, with my bland tone that let no emotion escape.

“If you know what’s best for you, and people you love, let us dispose of you,” Damon called out.

My lip twitched. Oh, how I was in pure loathing of Damon. “In your dreams, mundane.”

Without warning, someone fired a gun. The bullet went straight at me, but I caught it with ease. I examined it. The tip was of ash wood. “Man, you guys are smarter than you look.”

Another shot. This time the three of us were running, and in no time, we took flight. It was so bizarre, flying. I felt so free, but I knew I could never be free. Not now, because of the stupid, stupid Change.

We landed in another basketball court, only a few miles away. But it’d only been a few minutes after landing before the group had found us again. They must’ve had dang airplanes or something if they’d been able to pursue us at the rate they had been.

But then I saw someone in that crowd. I saw Maxine. She looked scared, but so sure of herself. She held one of the ash wood stakes and a rosary around her neck. That normal, un-pale neck. That neck that sang to me.

“Why?” I heard myself yell. “Why, Maxine? Why?!”

“Ever since you disappeared, things have changed. You’re different now, Alexis,” she said with a shaky voice. Tears ran down her face. “I want you to get out of here. Get out of here, and never return, you leech.”

Irene and Keeva were way ahead of her. They’d already taken off, leaving me to face them. The ones I’d loved and know. The one’s I cried with and grew up with. Now they were rejecting me so easily, now that they knew I wasn’t like them.

I looked to Damon. “Why . . . why is this happening?”

“I don’t know, but you better get out of here.”

“I don’t know why I Changed, but why can’t we just talk it out?” I was sounding like a total hypocrite right about now. “Why can’t you just accept me for what I am?”

“I can’t. It was hard enough when you were still human.”

“Nikki? Erin? Holly? Adam? You guys still believe in me, don’t you?” No one said anything, but I knew they were in that crowd.

“Get out, now,” Damon said, now more harshly. “Before we make you pay.”

I turned, but I felt too weak to fly. Instead, I ran a bit and jumped up onto the rusted fence. I’d jumped really high, much higher than I ever did before the Change. I climbed, looking at the snowy field up ahead. I figured if I could make it into the field, I’d be free. For a while.

There was a pine tree next to the fence. I hadn’t noticed that someone hid on the fence in the cover of the needles. I looked into the shadows and saw him.

“Cedric,” I gasped. He held a wooden dagger. His eyes were serious.

“Cedric, don’t do this!” I cried. “Please!”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, but I had a feeling he didn’t mean it. Before he could even move his dagger an inch towards me, I was gone, up in the air, and headed for freedom. Behind me was everyone I loved, but they will never love me back, because they’re dead by now. Now their great-grandchildren roam this cursed planet. These days, I’m in the company of Irene, Keeva, and Tristan. Heather died a long while ago. It was hard for all of us, but we managed. We had to.

We were Changed.

Sometimes people speak, but their voices are never heard. That usually applies to teenagers, unfortunately. This poem took me about half an hour to write, and it was definitely inspired by “Hands Held High” by Likin Park, not to mention Darfur and the war in Iraq.

War of Your Life

You try your best to stop
A pain in your chest
You begin to cry
Because your boyfriend lied
Over there
There’s killing without care
They cry
Because their family died

Here we sleep sound
Always dream bound
While they pray
That they’ll see the next day
Where noise is thrown around
With blood on the ground
Chaos everywhere
Bombs in the air
Deafening screams
Rip you from your dreams
Smoke filling your eyes
Just like the lies
So that you can’t see
What really should be

Madness swirling around
Dead bodies in a mound
Fear filling every vein
A bullet
Someone dies again

No thanks to all the wrong,
Your hope is all gone
Nowhere is peace
Here, we’re obese
Here, there’s greed
Here, there’s wrong
Everything’s wrong
They always die young
The ones who are strong

We watch on the sidelines
Reading bold headlines
We’re free as birds
We listen and observe
Nothing happens
There’s no action
Houses still burn
Families still year
People die, children cry
Nothing is done
Nothing is won
Nothing but fear

There’s ringing in their ears
Where there’s blood and tears
People scream and yell
After bodies fell

Will there be no more
After this war?

Well, Pulsation is currently on hiatus because I’m in a bit of a writer’s block, so today we’re taking a swing from the usual chapters, and I’m going to write random things, until I feel it’s enough.

This one’s been on my mind for a while. It’s a piece of writing that I’ve had on my flashdrive for a while, so yeah. Here.

“This whole thing is becoming out of hand,” one man sighed. He looked towards his acquaintances sitting around the table. “We need to put a rein on this population problem.”

“Mr. Wickery, if I may suggest,” a stout man said from across the meeting table, “That you look upon the CIA’s proposal.”

Mr. Wickery thought for a moment, then nodded. “What do you have?”

The stout man hopped out of his chair and scuttled towards the front of the room where a large white wall was, a projector facing it. “Lights please,” he said in his small voice. The lights flickered off and he turned the projector on.

The first slide showed a human bloodstream, as if you had been shrunken down to the size of a cell, inside of a vein. But there was something that didn’t belong in the illustration. Something . . . metal looking. It was a very small computer droid, almost a chip.

“The CIA has created a special chip that can track humans, wherever they may be. It is completely disease resistant, water resistant, blood resistant, and so on.” He pushed his glasses farther up onto his nose. “It’s a very small piece of equipment and can so easily be injected into the human body with a needle.”

The second slide came up. A diagram of the chip. It had details and labels, and such things about the technicalities. The man cleared his throat. “This is, um, the chip up close, how it’s made, and such.”

The next slide was a picture of the chip, sticking on the walls of the vein. At the top written in big, black, bold letters was WEEK ONE. Next slide. WEEK TWO. The chip had grown what looked like metal roots, digging into the vein wall. WEEK THREE. More roots had sprouted, digging further into the tissue. Through the next slides were even more pictures of the process. Finally, the small man said, “You see, each person is assigned a chip. All of the chips that get assigned are entered into a computer, so the computer can track the chip.”

Mr. Wickery looked at him with an intent gaze. The man had his full attention now.

“So,” he continued, “We inject this into each person possible by slipping the droid into shot serums. This way, the droids are virtually unavoidable. Soon, we may be slipping the droids into beverages and foods, too. After a few years, we cut off the flow of the droids and sit back to watch. Because the droids reproduce and can be passed down from generation to generation, we won’t need anything else.”

“But how does that help the population problem?” Mr. Wickery asked. “Mr. Stanley, please explain.”

Mr. Stanley nodded his small head and explained, “Yes, I’m glad you asked. See, the droids have a small vial of poison in them. With the simple command of the computer, the vial releases the poison, and the human would be dead within minutes.”

Mr. Wickery raised an eyebrow. “What happens when the people start suspecting something? We don’t want them to know about any of this when their perfectly healthy friends or family suddenly drops dead.”

“What happens?” Mr. Stanley repeated. “Well, that’s when we bring in the replicas of the people poisoned. That, Mr. Wickery, is when we bring in the robots.”

Thick as Thieves on Lulu.com

I recently wrote a book; Thick as Thieves. Though I had a difficult time, it was well worth getting my book up on the web and for sale. The real focus of the cover is in the picture above. I drew that cover. No joke.

We start off with a young man; Keive. He’s a shape shifter. His sister, Alyssa, is ill and has been ill her entire life. He went into thieving to get enough money to get her sister better. But, one night, he runs into a stranger, who tries to rob Keive while Keive tries to rob him, and it all becomes a mess. Because of Alyssa’s recent pitfall in health, Keive sets out to get to another town to revive Alyssa. Though, without really knowing it, he brings the stranger along with them. Warren, the stranger, slowly realizes that his world isn’t so hopeless with Alyssa around. They go to Madame Ajille, a fortune teller that Keive has become acquainted with in the past, and she gives them a legendary stone that they could use to heal Alyssa. Problem is, they don’t know how to use the magic contained in it without the other two stones. So, after Alyssa passes on, they’re to set out for the other two stones so they can actually help her. Then Alyssa finally dies. I am such a hopeless romantic.

Now, this is how my book is not at all like any other book out there. That entire story up there, isn’t just a third person narrative, it’s a memory. A memory that a certain mind reader saw. Then it switches to a first person perspective, and gears entire change. Turns out that she’s the a princess of the country who ran away after killing her finance. Of course, this is all thanks to the not-so-popular-with-independent-youths-arranged marriage. Slowly, a greater conflict unfolds within the pages, and the future of the country falls into their hands. Sounds cliche, but the mastermind behind it all has family ties with a certain character; they just don’t know it yet. The book continues with heartbreaks, deaths, fights, crazy sailors, evil family, unknown brothers, misunderstanding fathers, curses, and even a cliffhanger of an ending.

He looked at me, then looked back to the end of the alley. He seemed to be thinking, about what, I didn’t know.

“Yes,” he slowly said. “Yes, it’s me. And you’re you.”

“I’m me . . .,” I said, dazed. It was like he didn’t remember me at all. “Cyan, it’s me; Nil.”

Cyan’s head whipped around and his sharp eyes caught mine. “I know who you are. What I’d like to know is why everyone thought you were dead.”

Dead? What was this guy talking about? I wasn’t dead.

“I . . . I don’t know why people said that. I’m perfectly alive.” I looked and my scraped hands, thinking hard.

“They said . . . that you had starved, that you hadn’t gotten to the music in time.” He looked back at me.

“They?”

Cyan glanced down at his feet and took a deep breath. “The guys that caught Nix. I escaped their facility, and They haven’t rested in their search for me, or the rest of us. They said that They had you in captivity, and wanted to see how long you could last without music. Your supposed death was an accident, according to them.”

“I was never there, Cyan. No one ever captured me.”

“They probably wanted everyone to think that you were dead, so that they’d give up on the one person that could get all us out of this.”

“Me? How could I get everyone like us out of this mess?”

“Please.” He shot me a sideways glance. “We all have ups and downs. Your down is that you feed on music and only music. But, your up is . . . well, you don’t know what that is yet, do you?”

I shook my head.

“Then it has yet to be discovered. And whatever it is, it’ll be strong enough to overthrow Them.”

“That’s great and all, but can we seriously think that I can save us. Come on, Cyan. I’m the lousiest person in the world when it comes to rescues.”

“If They’re so afraid of you, then I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Whatever.” I sighed and looked up at the sky. By now, the stars were starting to disappear, and the sun was starting to rise. I could no longer hear the beating of the chopper’s blade with my advanced hearing, so I assumed it was safe. Next to me, Cyan was also observing his surroundings.

“Let’s go,” he muttered, and we were off. He weaved through the shadows, trying to conceal himself the best he could, which was pretty good. There were almost no cars on the road, but every time one passed, I tensed up. Yeah, I get paranoid as hell sometimes, especially when I’ve just fed.

We kept going, until we reached the edge of town. I was confused as to why we were here, and where we were going. But I knew better than to ask.

Cyan led me to the graveyard. I looked at him, but he had his eyes closed, still walking. What was most amazing was that he never once tripped over a headstone. I followed in bewilderment, starting to question what was really going on. Then, abruptly, he stopped and looked down at a grave.

“Is there a room down there or something?” I asked.

Cyan shot me a look. “Come now. You know me better than that.” He shook his head and stood back. His eyes closed, and strange words floated from his mouth. For a moment, nothing was happening. Then, the edges of the tombstone started to give off a strange, dark radiance. The glowing grew rapidly, and Cyan’s eyes finally fluttered open.

With utter silence, he approached the headstone and got down on all fours. He paused, then crawled into the stone, and he melted into it like it was water.

“C-Cyan?” I whispered. No answer came. I warily got down on my knees and slowly inched towards the stone. I touched the stone, and it melted around my finger with a cool feeling to it. With one deep breath, I pushed myself into the stone.

I was dropped into a swirling madness of blue and black. Looking down, I saw no end to this fall. I tried to scream, but my voice seemed to be gone. I squeezed my eyes shut, then everything stopped. I was no longer falling. Now, I was laying on a cold ground.

Voices swarmed around my head.

“That’s her?” a female voice said.

“Yes.” That one . . . that was Cyan.

“I thought she was dead,” a male voice said.

“So did I,” said Cyan. A warm hand touched my shoulder and lightly shook me. “Hey, Nil. You alright?”

I opened my eyes and sat up, to see three faces staring at me, one of which was Cyan. The others were two people I recognized, but just couldn’t put names on.

“Nil, can you hear me?” Cyan asked.

I looked at him and tried to speak, but nothing came. Instead, I nodded my head, then gave Cyan a questioning gaze.

“You’re probably just in aftershock of going through zones. It’s completely normal; happened the first time with me too.”

My shoulders relaxed, and I took a better look of where I was. It was some sort of apartment, but there were no windows, and the lights were dimmed.

The apartment walls rumbled, and I thought any second they were going to cave in. But the rumbling soon stopped and everything was still. Though, the rumbling had left my chest feel like it was caving in, and a feeling of dread washing through my body.

“What the heck was that?!” I hissed, my eyes widening.

“Well, she snapped out of it pretty quickly,” the male murmured. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dimness, I could see that his hair was bleach-blonde, almost white, sticking up just like Nix’s had . . . His eyes were a piercing blue, just staring me down.

The girl was about my age, maybe a few years older than me. Her hair was a dark brown, flowing and extravagant. Her eyes held a wise and sly look that almost scared me.

Then Cyan . . . his black-blue hair and grey eyes. I remembered him best, because I’d been around him before this. I’d been around him before Nix had been caught.

All of us wore dark clothes that made it hard to see the rest of our bodies in such dim light. We were all strange people, sitting in a strange room, at an unknown (and possibly strange) location. Which reminded me. . . .

“Anyone care to tell where we are? Or why the walls just shook.” I narrowed my eyes that all of them, staring them down until someone answered.

“We’re underground, near the metro station,” Cyan said. “The train probably just past us. It does that now and then.”

I gave him a look, slowly nodding. “Alright . . . well, that’s great and all, but why are we here?”

“Well, we have to protect you from Them until your miraculous power shows up,” the woman said. Her voice was amazingly calm and sly, almost as much as her eyes.

“And to avert suspicion that you’re really you, we’re going to have to alter you appearance,” Cyan said. “Or, in other words, cut your hair.”

“Yeah, you have too much of it anyways,” the man said.

“Oh, thanks . . . whatever your name is,” I said.

“It’s Griffin,” he said, then jerked a thumb at the woman. “And this is Lynette.”

“I’ll be the one cutting your hair,” she said. “Follow me.”

Lynette got up and walked across the room a gracefully and lightly. She reminded me of a deer, her frame being beautiful but almost fragile, and her steps being light and meaningful.

I got up and followed her, my boots clunking. I, on the other hand, was like a maimed wolf; awkward and strange. I didn’t have a beautiful frame or voice. I wasn’t tall or anything like that. I secretly burned with jealousy on the inside.

NOTE: This the part of the free-write post that we have to write every week for class.

Loose rocks scuffled under my boots as I headed down the street. I pulled my hood tighter to my head. The brisk air was the only thing keeping me awake, and it gave me a jolt every time I inhaled. I looked down at my hands; the skin was cracked. I needed to get inside soon or else . . .

No, I couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if I didn’t hear it soon enough. The pain running through my body with such speed was already unnerving enough.

The world was already starting to spin around me, as if I were on a Merry-Go-Round. But this wasn’t merry at all. It was more like a Terror-Go-Round. And I wasn’t riding with joy—I was practically screaming for my life, trying to get someone to stop the ride. But the one in control was twisted, evil. Only God could save me now, and he’s too busy with other business.

My throat got tight as my heart started to twinge. I tried so hard not to cry, even though the fear and pain was so overwhelming.

A car passed by. It was one of those huge Hummers with rap blasting from every inch of its polluting self. Though it wasn’t my preferred music, it was enough to calm me for a few seconds. When I breathed, the air didn’t feel as nippy, and I savored the little power I had now.

I walked forward, now more confident. The bright lights of the club were calling to me, and I was weak to its influence. So I kept walking, trying to stay strong. I finally got to the bouncer. He was a big guy with tattoos everywhere, sun glasses (even though it was night), a pierced ear, blah, blah, blah. I’d seen tougher.

He raised an eyebrow. “ID?”

My hand plunged inside my hoodie pocket, and I pulled out a fake one that he had made for me.

The guy inspected it for a moment, handed it back to me, then waved me in.

I almost ran into the place, I was just that excited. The wave of music hit me, and I relaxed completely. My senses were alive again, and I could feel color coming back to my face.

Now, I had to find a place to sit and feed. A nice spot in the corner appeared, and I quickly headed towards it. I sat down and removed my hood, letting the music flow through me.

I fed on the music, letting the pulsations and sounds soak into me. I wasn’t too far in my feeding when a shadow loomed over me, and my eyes snapped open.

A crooked smile appeared out of an ugly face; a face that I so dearly wished to punch.

“You doing well, I assume?” he said.

“Fall in a ditch, Shish-kebab,” I sneered.

He frowned. “It’s Shiva.”

“Like that would make a difference.” I frowned. “What do you want?”

Shiva’s face softened. He shrugged. “Oh, I just wanted to check up on an old friend. I guess that my presence isn’t wanted, though.”

I cocked a brow. “What tipped you off?”

His face stayed abnormally calm. “I’ll say it once, Nil, and only once. Nix has been captured. They know he has a twin. Guess who that is.” He suppressed a laugh. “And they also know that there are more than just you and I running about. I suggest you watch yourself.”

With that, Shiva melted back into the sweaty crowd. Once he was completely out of sight, I leaned back and sighed. My tense shoulders fell down and I groaned.

“Nix, you idiot,” I said under my breath. “You’re going to get yourself killed. And the rest of us, at that.”

I just sat in the corner for the rest of the night, watching people slowly leave. By the time that I got up and left, only the bartender, the DJ, and some poor soul were left. I left the club and went back into the streets. The air was just as cold as it had been when I’d left it five hours earlier.

On account of my feeding being so long and filling, my senses were wide awake. So strong, I’d be able to dodge a bullet being shot from at least twenty feet. And because I was so alert, I became nervous when I heard rocks scuffling under boots. Not my boots. I hurried around the corner of a boutique, and shot a glance back. It was the poor soul from the club when I’d left.

My walk broke into a run, and I sped up, turning into the alley. It felt so strange, how familiar their presence felt. I was racking my brain for answers, trying to match the sound of the scuffling to anyone else that could match it. The scuffling sounded quicker now . . . they were speeding up. Before I could get any further through that thought, a quick blow to the back got me to the ground. The stranger had me pinned, and was pressing my face to the cold gravel, which was scraping my cheeks. I wheezed, and gasped for air.

Even more weight came down on me, holding my cold body still. It was getting harder and harder to think, much less breathe.

“Shh!” There was a slight pause before the stranger’s urgent and hushed voice came to me. “Stay down! And don’t move, or else they’ll see you.”

A hand covered my mouth, and I was thrust to the side of a giant garbage bin. Overhead, a helicopter with a searchlight passed.

The figure sighed, and I looked at them. As my eyes adjusted, I tried to make out the fine features of their face.

Then a gasp came, and I realized it was from me.

The stranger turned to me and hissed, “What?”

“It’s you. It’s you . . . Cyan.”

One theme of the book is getting through tough times.

Such as, when Frederick Douglas sees a woman getting whipped and being called foul names on page 24. It says, “He then said to her, ‘Now, you d——d b—h, I’ll learn you how to disobey my orders!” and after rolling up his sleeves, he commenced to lay on the heavy cowskin, and soon the warm, red blood (amid heart-rending shrieks from her, and horrid oaths from her) came dripping to the floor.”
This shows how terrified that young Freddie D. must’ve been when he saw that poor woman when she was being called foul names, and enduring foul treatment.

Then, on page 38 and 39, it explains how Dembry was getting beat, then he fled to the water, Mr. Gore said he’d count to three to give Dembry a chance to get out of the water, or he’d blow his brains out. Gore only got to “two” when he shot poor Dembry. I would’ve written it all, but really, let’s be real. That’s a freakishly long passage for one to type up in such a short amount of time.

Appartently, now we’re supposed to add a picture.

On page 44, “Even the Great House itself, with all its pictures, was far inferior to many buildings in Baltimore.”
This shows how great Baltimore is, compared to Frederick’s old plantation.

Page 45, “And here I saw what I had never seen before; it was a white face beaming with the most kindly emotions; it was the face of my new mistress, Sophia Auld.”
This shows how sweet Mrs. Auld was, as if she were the breaking point savior for Fred’s humanity.

That’s all I really collected.

The most important events from Frederick Douglas as follows:

1. On page 20, he meets with this mother at night. Between then and page 42 his mother dies.
2. On page 42 Freddie D. goes to Baltimore.
3. Page 47… he meets Mrs. Auld, who really resembles Lucifer, the fallen angel, when put with power…
4. On 57, he learns to read and write.
5. Page 58, Captain Anthony dies.
6. Page 75, he got whipped.

So, there you have it.

Basically, the article called, With Power Comes a Selfish Point of View, much explains exactly what happens to the best of people when blessed with overwhelming power. Like in a test, volunteers were told to draw an E on their foreheads. People who felt they had power drew the E backwards, as if drawing and looking at the E internally. Ones who felt powerless drew the E so anyone could read it correctly. This was meant to show that when placed with power, one may lose insight of what it may be like to see things from anothers’ view.

This article showed a connection to Frederick Douglas because one of his mistresses, Mrs. Auld, had been so nice when Frederick arrived, but as she was given power over him, her heart slowly turned cold. On the top of page 52, it clearly says, and I quote, “Under its influence, the tender heart became stone, and the lamb-like disposition gave way to one of tiger-like fierceness.”Douglas claims that when given power one may go mad (or something close to that) with it. Which, leads back to the article and the similarities.