English Assignment
Mar. 10th, 2006 05:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xfirefly9xHere's a copy of my english assignment, if anyone's interested. Its a 'fill the gap' thingy for Of Mice And Men. You'll understand better if you read on. Lemme know what u think!..
Imaginative Text Task Yr 12
Integrating Device: Timeless Texts
Of Mice and Men
Rationale
The intent of this narrative is to fill in the gap in Of Mice and Men about the accident, which led to Crooks’ back injury. It will focus on giving more depth into the personalities of the characters, Crook and Curley, and will help the reader better understand Crooks’ solitude on the ranch, due to his being a Negro.
Untitled
Streams of sunshine poured down through the rafters of the barn at Tyler Ranch. Birds sang cheerfully outside and the usual sounds of morning could be heard for miles. Leaning off one of the walls of the barn was a little shed, known as the harness room. It was in this room that Crooks, the Negro stable buck, slept.
On this particular morning, Crooks turned over in his straw bed and slowly opened his eyes. He pulled himself up and busied himself with his normal routine of getting dressed, having a quick breakfast and checking in on the horses.
As Crooks neared the barn after having eaten, he heard muffled voices. Moving as quietly as possible, he crept inside and hid behind a stack of hay bales. He peered around them, careful not to be seen. Two shadowy figures stood by the horses’ stalls. One of the figures was quite large and the other a lot smaller in comparison. Crooks squinted but they remained unfocused.
The voices became clearer and Crooks moved back behind the hay bales to listen.
“Who’re you?” barked the first voice. Crooks recognised it as Curley, the boss’ son.
“What’s it to you?” The second voice, he couldn’t place. It was deep and menacing and Crooks automatically disliked whoever it was.
“You’re tryin’ to steal our horses. Ain’t somethin’ I’m gonna stand ‘round an’ watch. Now, tell me. Who’re you?” Curley spat out, a venomous tone to his voice. Anyone who knew him would know to get away from him immediately. When Curley was angry, he was dangerous. And he was clearly angry.
The other guy sneered at him, as he answered. Crooks could almost feel the tension in the air – it was overwhelming. Curley was fuming.
“It’s Mal. Mal Davies.”
Crooks sat back and thought for a moment. That name, Mal Davies, sounded very familiar. He peered around the hay bales again. He immediately wished he hadn’t – Curley saw him and gave him a death stare that froze him in his tracks.
“Hey! You there, stable buck! Git outta here!”
Crooks sighed and reluctantly left his hiding place. He joined Curley and Mal by the horses’ stalls - both men stared him down as he wandered over to them. They came into focus and finally, Crooks was able to identify Mal Davies.
Years ago, Mal had cost Crooks’ family their ranch. He had loaned them money in order to expand and had given them a very good deal. Or so they had thought. Crooks’ father had signed a contract detailing very specific terms, however, they later found out that it was a con. Mal had conveniently forgotten to mention the high interest rates, that weren’t listed on the contract, and had decided to take advantage of them.
He had stolen everything worth stealing and left them with nothing. Crooks’ family was left dirt poor and without hope. Unable to afford the upkeep of what little possessions that they had left, Crooks’ father had sold the ranch and Crooks himself had left to find work. Now, here he was – a stable buck at Tyler Ranch.
Recognition snaked its way onto Mal’s face. Crooks could see it in his eyes, the memory of what he had cost him. For several moments, they stood, facing each other and sizing each other up. The sudden snap of a twig underfoot broke the silence, as someone passed by outside. Mal spat angrily at the ground.
“You got Negro’s workin’ here? Huh.” He turned to face Curley, dismissing Crooks, as if disinterested. Curley glared back at him, not because of the Negro comment – he agreed with Mal a hundred percent on that, but because he didn’t like big guys. Or horse thieves.
Crooks watched as Curley and Mal faced off. Curley looked ready for a fight. His jaw was set and he had that glint in his eye that he always had before a fight. It was the same with Mal, who stood before him, clenching and unclenching his fists menacingly.
A few moments passed, and Curley swung his fist at Mal. Mal blocked it easily. Crooks watched, hypnotised, as the fight took off. Curley threw another fist at Mal, this time connecting with his jaw. Mal turned to the side and spat blood into the straw that covered the barn floor. He swore and turned back to Curley, who was grinning at him, maliciously.
Although Mal towered above him, Curley had the advantage. He had regular fights with some of the locals, all bigger than him. If he got into a fight with a guy bigger than him, he would come out best either way. Even if he lost the fight, he’d come out on top – the big guy would be blamed for picking a fight with a smaller guy and Curley would look to be the victim. All in all, Curley knew his game.
Mal swung back at Curley – his fist collided with Curley’s stomach. Curley doubled over in pain as Mal continued punching him. Crooks took in the turn of events and winced as Curley fell to the ground. Mal proceeded to kick Curley hard in the ribs. His victim curled up defensively, but too slowly. A cracking sound suggested that he’d broken something.
Finally, Crooks broke free of his trance-like state. He moved forward slowly, towards Mal and Curley. Curley had pulled himself up into a sitting position and awkwardly began to pull himself to his feet, while Mal continued beating him. Blood rand down the side of his face and his once fresh clothes were stained with dirt, straw and blood. Beads of sweat lined his forehead – Curley wiped it away with the back of his hand. He turned back to Mal.
Crooks couldn’t take it anymore. Curley was being slaughtered and he kept going back for more. Crooks reached out and grabbed the corner of Curley’s shirt and attempted to pull him away from Mal.
“Gerrof me!” Curley shouted at Crooks, annoyed. He swung out and his fist rammed into Crooks’ face. Crooks grimaced in pained but tried once again to pull Curley away.
“I don’t need no Negro’s help! Git out!” Curley struck Crooks again and this time he was sent flying into one of the horses’ stalls. The horse inside panicked and began trampling violently around the stall. Crooks watched in horror as its hoofs lifted into the air and came back down towards him, as if in slow motion. He heard a snap as the horse crushed his back, then everything went black.
After the accident, everything was different. Mal had slipped away from Curley, who had been preoccupied by Crooks. Curley had become even more relentless since. He hated big guys even more and was finding himself, more often, in fights with them.
Crooks had become more cynical, more of a realist. He avoided whites as much as possible knowing that he’d never truly fit in with them, and had developed serious trust issues. Crooks used his work as a distraction – it helped him to leave the memories of that day behind. It was also a good way to section off from the others, to avoid any other potential problems like that one. At least that’s what he told himself. If anything similar were to happen, it’d probably lose him his job. And Crooks’ couldn’t afford that. After all, his job at Tyler Ranch was all he had.
Imaginative Text Task Yr 12
Integrating Device: Timeless Texts
Of Mice and Men
Rationale
The intent of this narrative is to fill in the gap in Of Mice and Men about the accident, which led to Crooks’ back injury. It will focus on giving more depth into the personalities of the characters, Crook and Curley, and will help the reader better understand Crooks’ solitude on the ranch, due to his being a Negro.
Untitled
Streams of sunshine poured down through the rafters of the barn at Tyler Ranch. Birds sang cheerfully outside and the usual sounds of morning could be heard for miles. Leaning off one of the walls of the barn was a little shed, known as the harness room. It was in this room that Crooks, the Negro stable buck, slept.
On this particular morning, Crooks turned over in his straw bed and slowly opened his eyes. He pulled himself up and busied himself with his normal routine of getting dressed, having a quick breakfast and checking in on the horses.
As Crooks neared the barn after having eaten, he heard muffled voices. Moving as quietly as possible, he crept inside and hid behind a stack of hay bales. He peered around them, careful not to be seen. Two shadowy figures stood by the horses’ stalls. One of the figures was quite large and the other a lot smaller in comparison. Crooks squinted but they remained unfocused.
The voices became clearer and Crooks moved back behind the hay bales to listen.
“Who’re you?” barked the first voice. Crooks recognised it as Curley, the boss’ son.
“What’s it to you?” The second voice, he couldn’t place. It was deep and menacing and Crooks automatically disliked whoever it was.
“You’re tryin’ to steal our horses. Ain’t somethin’ I’m gonna stand ‘round an’ watch. Now, tell me. Who’re you?” Curley spat out, a venomous tone to his voice. Anyone who knew him would know to get away from him immediately. When Curley was angry, he was dangerous. And he was clearly angry.
The other guy sneered at him, as he answered. Crooks could almost feel the tension in the air – it was overwhelming. Curley was fuming.
“It’s Mal. Mal Davies.”
Crooks sat back and thought for a moment. That name, Mal Davies, sounded very familiar. He peered around the hay bales again. He immediately wished he hadn’t – Curley saw him and gave him a death stare that froze him in his tracks.
“Hey! You there, stable buck! Git outta here!”
Crooks sighed and reluctantly left his hiding place. He joined Curley and Mal by the horses’ stalls - both men stared him down as he wandered over to them. They came into focus and finally, Crooks was able to identify Mal Davies.
Years ago, Mal had cost Crooks’ family their ranch. He had loaned them money in order to expand and had given them a very good deal. Or so they had thought. Crooks’ father had signed a contract detailing very specific terms, however, they later found out that it was a con. Mal had conveniently forgotten to mention the high interest rates, that weren’t listed on the contract, and had decided to take advantage of them.
He had stolen everything worth stealing and left them with nothing. Crooks’ family was left dirt poor and without hope. Unable to afford the upkeep of what little possessions that they had left, Crooks’ father had sold the ranch and Crooks himself had left to find work. Now, here he was – a stable buck at Tyler Ranch.
Recognition snaked its way onto Mal’s face. Crooks could see it in his eyes, the memory of what he had cost him. For several moments, they stood, facing each other and sizing each other up. The sudden snap of a twig underfoot broke the silence, as someone passed by outside. Mal spat angrily at the ground.
“You got Negro’s workin’ here? Huh.” He turned to face Curley, dismissing Crooks, as if disinterested. Curley glared back at him, not because of the Negro comment – he agreed with Mal a hundred percent on that, but because he didn’t like big guys. Or horse thieves.
Crooks watched as Curley and Mal faced off. Curley looked ready for a fight. His jaw was set and he had that glint in his eye that he always had before a fight. It was the same with Mal, who stood before him, clenching and unclenching his fists menacingly.
A few moments passed, and Curley swung his fist at Mal. Mal blocked it easily. Crooks watched, hypnotised, as the fight took off. Curley threw another fist at Mal, this time connecting with his jaw. Mal turned to the side and spat blood into the straw that covered the barn floor. He swore and turned back to Curley, who was grinning at him, maliciously.
Although Mal towered above him, Curley had the advantage. He had regular fights with some of the locals, all bigger than him. If he got into a fight with a guy bigger than him, he would come out best either way. Even if he lost the fight, he’d come out on top – the big guy would be blamed for picking a fight with a smaller guy and Curley would look to be the victim. All in all, Curley knew his game.
Mal swung back at Curley – his fist collided with Curley’s stomach. Curley doubled over in pain as Mal continued punching him. Crooks took in the turn of events and winced as Curley fell to the ground. Mal proceeded to kick Curley hard in the ribs. His victim curled up defensively, but too slowly. A cracking sound suggested that he’d broken something.
Finally, Crooks broke free of his trance-like state. He moved forward slowly, towards Mal and Curley. Curley had pulled himself up into a sitting position and awkwardly began to pull himself to his feet, while Mal continued beating him. Blood rand down the side of his face and his once fresh clothes were stained with dirt, straw and blood. Beads of sweat lined his forehead – Curley wiped it away with the back of his hand. He turned back to Mal.
Crooks couldn’t take it anymore. Curley was being slaughtered and he kept going back for more. Crooks reached out and grabbed the corner of Curley’s shirt and attempted to pull him away from Mal.
“Gerrof me!” Curley shouted at Crooks, annoyed. He swung out and his fist rammed into Crooks’ face. Crooks grimaced in pained but tried once again to pull Curley away.
“I don’t need no Negro’s help! Git out!” Curley struck Crooks again and this time he was sent flying into one of the horses’ stalls. The horse inside panicked and began trampling violently around the stall. Crooks watched in horror as its hoofs lifted into the air and came back down towards him, as if in slow motion. He heard a snap as the horse crushed his back, then everything went black.
After the accident, everything was different. Mal had slipped away from Curley, who had been preoccupied by Crooks. Curley had become even more relentless since. He hated big guys even more and was finding himself, more often, in fights with them.
Crooks had become more cynical, more of a realist. He avoided whites as much as possible knowing that he’d never truly fit in with them, and had developed serious trust issues. Crooks used his work as a distraction – it helped him to leave the memories of that day behind. It was also a good way to section off from the others, to avoid any other potential problems like that one. At least that’s what he told himself. If anything similar were to happen, it’d probably lose him his job. And Crooks’ couldn’t afford that. After all, his job at Tyler Ranch was all he had.
