Академический Документы
Профессиональный Документы
Культура Документы
Example 5
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal,
thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or
mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with
hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and
had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time
craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and
in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.
The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that
somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.
Mrs.
Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended
she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as
it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters
arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even
seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley
mixing with a child like that.
When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about
the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over
the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley
gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.
None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.
Creative Example 3
The baby might not die, I said.
Thats good, said Mina.
I sat on the wall a few feet away from her.
You werent at school today, she said.
5
I wasnt well.
She nodded.
Not surprising, considering what youve been through.
You werent at school either, I said.
I dont go to school.
10
I stared at her.
My mother educates me, she said. We believe that schools inhibit the natural curiosity,
creativity and intelligence of children. The mind needs to be opened out into the world, not shuttered
down inside a gloomy classroom.
Oh, I said.
15
Dont you agree, Michael?
I thought of dashing across the yard with Leakey and Coot. I thought of Monkey Mitfords
temper. I thought of Miss Clarks stories.
Dont know, I said.
20
Our motto is on the wall by my bed, she said. How can a bird that is born for joy/Sit in a
cage and sing? William Blake.
She pointed up into the tree. The chicks in the nest wont need a classroom to make them fly. Will
they?
I shook my head.
Well then, she said. My father believed this, too.
25
Your father?
Yes. He was a wonderful man. He died before I was born. We often think of him, watching us
from Heaven.
She watched me, with those eyes that seemed to get right inside.
Youre a quiet person, she said.
30
I didnt know what to say. She began reading again.
Do you believe were descended from apes? I said.
Not a matter of belief, she said. Its a proven fact. Its called evolution. You must know
that. Yes, we are.
She looked up from her book.
35
I would hope, though, she went on, that we also have some rather more beautiful ancestors.
Dont you?
She watched me again.
Yes, I said.
She read again. I watched the blackbird flying into the trees with 40 worms dropping from its
beak.
It was great to see the owls, I said.
She smiled.
Yes. Theyre wild things, of course. Killers, savages. Theyre wonderful.
45
I kept dreaming I heard them, all through the night.
I listen for them, too. Sometimes in the dead of night when all the traffics gone I hear them
calling to each other.
I joined my hands together tight with a space between my palms and a gap between my
thumbs.
50
Listen, I said.
I blew softly into the gap and made the noise an owl makes.
Thats brilliant! said Mina. Show me.
I showed her how to put her hands together, how to blow. At first she couldnt do it, but then she
could. She hooted and grinned.
55
Brilliant, she said. So brilliant.
Leakey showed me, I said. My mate at school.
I wonder if you did it at night if the owls would come.
Maybe. Maybe you should try it.
I will. Tonight I will.
Hoot, she went. Hoot hoot hoot.
Creative Example 4
It was on a dreary night of November that I accomplished my toils. With an anxiety that almost
amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being
into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally
against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished
light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard.
How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how explain the wretch whom with such pain
and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as
beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries
beneath; his hair was of lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of pearly whiteness; but this only formed
a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the white
sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.
I had worked for nearly two years, for the sole purpose of giving life to an inanimate body. For this I
deprived myself of rest and health; but now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and
breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Unable to endure looking at the being I had created, I
rushed out of the room and continued a long time moving around my bedchamber, unable to compose
my mind to sleep. I threw myself on the bed in my clothes, endeavouring to find a few moments of
forgetfulness. But it was in vain; I slept, indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest of dreams. I thought I
saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets. Delighted and surprised, I embraced her,
but as I kissed her lips, her features appeared to change, and I thought that I held the corpse of my
dead mother in my arms. I started from my sleep in horror; a cold dew covered my forehead and my
teeth chattered. When, by the dim and yellow light of the moon, as it forced its way through the
window shutters, I saw the wretch - the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up the curtain
of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered
some inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks.
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prims warmth but
finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in
with our mother. Of course she did. This is the day of the reaping.
I prop myself up on one elbow. Theres enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim,
curled up on her side, cocooned in my mothers body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my
mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prims face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely
as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me.