The Analysis of Hamlet (1996)

Hamlet (1996) is a film adapted from William Shakespeare’s play with the same title. Hamlet is produced by David Barron, a British film producer who also produced Harry Potter, and directed by Kenneth Branagh, an actor and film director from Northern Ireland.

The story is about Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark, who comes home for his father’s death and his mother’s wedding. He commits revenge to his uncle, the new king, whom he believes as the murderer of his father after meeting the ghost of his dead father. He acts like a madman and pretends (or might not pretend) crazy to cover his hatred to the new king. He manages his madness and waits patiently for the best moment to take revenge in a genius way, which is by revealing the murder in a play.

This paper analyzes the film version of Hamlet using several elements of drama.

 

Characters

Character is a representation of a person, place, or thing performing traditionally human activities or functions in literary works. In the film of Hamlet, there are several important characters which can be distinguished as follows:

1. Main characters:

     a. Protagonist is a character that revolves around the story. The protagonist in Hamlet is Hamlet, starred by Kenneth Branagh.

     b. Antagonist is a character that opposes the protagonist. In Hamlet, the antagonist is Claudius, starred by Derek Jacobi.

2. Minor character is a character that often provides support and illuminates the protagonist. The minor character in Hamlet is Horatio, starred by Nicholas Farrell.

3. Round character is a character that has many aspects to his or her personality. The character may have a good side and a bad side; he or she may be unpredictable. There are several round characters in Hamlet:

     a. Gertrude, starred by Julie Christie.

     b. Polonius, starred by Richard Briers.

     c. Ophelia, starred by Kate Winslet.

     d. Laertes, starred by Michael Maloney.

     e. Rosencrantz, starred by Timothy Spall.

     f. Guildenstren, starred by Reece Dinsdale.

     g. Fortinbras, starred by Rufus Sewell.

4. Static character is a character that remains the same, does not change his or her outlook in response to events taking place. The static characters in Hamlet are:

     a. The Ghost, starred by Brian Blessed.

     b. Osric, starred by Robin Williams.

     c. The guards.

     d. The officers.

 

Characterization of the Characters

1. Hamlet

Hamlet is the Prince of Denmark. He is the son of King Hamlet and Queen Gertrude, and the nephew of the new king, Claudius. He is melancholy, cynical, and full of hatred. He has obsession to take revenge to Claudius. He also disgusts Gertrude sexual life by marrying Claudius not long after King Hamlet’s death. Hamlet has very deep sorrow, reflected by the black clothes he always wears before going to England. Hamlet’s madness might be a mask to hide his plan for taking revenge, but he might also really mad of his father’s murder. However, he is also romantic. He has deep feeling to Ophelia and loves her very much.

2. Claudius

Claudius is the brother of King Hamlet, uncle of Prince Hamlet. He becomes king after killing King Hamlet and marrying Queen Gertrude. Claudius is ambitious for power. He poisons to death his own brother and marries his sister in law to be a king. He is genius as he can act that there is nothing wrong happens, but actually he is scared of Hamlet’s crazy acts and madness. Claudius seems to love Gertrude sincerely, but in the end of the film he does not prevent Gertrude from drinking the poison that supposed to be drunk by Hamlet. It shows that he just loves Gertrude for lust.

3. Gertrude

Gertrude is the Queen of Denmark, mother of Hamlet. Hamlet says that she has problem with her sexual life as she gets married with Claudius soon after his husband’s death. She is a beautiful woman, but always hungry for affection. She cares and loves Hamlet very much. In the other hand, she also respects Claudius. It is impossible that she does not know about King Hamlet’s murder and Hamlet’s plan of taking revenge. This situation puts her in the dilemma. Gertrude is a picture of a shield. She defends her son and protects her husband in same time.

4. Horatio

Horatio is Hamlet’s closest and best friend. He is loyal, trustworthy, and reliable. His loyalty to Hamlet is shown in the end of the film when he commits to drink the poison after knowing that Hamlet is dying of poison. Hamlet convinces him to stay alive to tell the story to Fortinbras, and he does what Hamlet asks in name of loyalty.

5. Polonius

Polonius is the father of Ophelia and Laertes. He is the right hand of King Hamlet and the new king, Claudius. Polonius is a hypocrite. He says that he is loyal to King Hamlet, Queen Gertrude, and Hamlet, but in fact he is loyal to Claudius. He is mean and slithery. He breaks off the relationship between Hamlet and Ophelia. He also convinces everyone that Hamlet is mad. However, as a father, he is admired and loved so much by his children. After he is killed by Hamlet, Ophelia becomes crazy and Laertes plans for revenge.

6. Ophelia

Ophelia is Polonius’s daughter and Laertes’s sister. She is a beautiful noble woman. She is innocent and naïve. Although she loves Hamlet, she still obeys her father and brother. She is also romantic. Even she gets mad because Hamlet kills her father, she can still make poems and sing a song about flowers. She finally drowns in the river near a garden full of beautiful flowers.

7. Laertes

Laertes is Polonius’s son, and Ophelia’s brother. He is an educated young noble man. He spends his life studying in France. He is obsessive of killing Hamlet after the death of his father and sister. He is slithery like his father. When he has fencing duel with Hamlet, he puts poison in the point of the sword.

8. The Ghost

The Ghost claims as the spirit of Hamlet’s father who has been killed by Claudius. The Ghost is evil as he asks Hamlet to kill Claudius. It is unclear whether the Ghost is really the spirit of King Hamlet or he is only Hamlet’s imagination. Although several character see the Ghost, only Hamlet has a dialogue with him.

9. Fortinbras

Fortinbras is the Prince of Norway who seeks for his father’s death. He also wants to claim the land of Denmark under his power. He is greedy. He attacks Denmark with his army and takes the Danish throne. However, in the end of the film he realizes that Hamlet has nothing to do with his father’s death. After listening Horatio’s story, he treats the dead body of Hamlet with respect.

10. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are the former friends of Hamlet. They are summoned by Claudius and Gertrude to discover what makes Hamlet acts strangely. They are like twins and always together. They are dishonest and incompetent as they only want to be paid for the information given to Claudius.

11. Osric

Osric is an officer in Elsinore Castle. He is foolish and hilarious. He is the one who has idea that Hamlet should have fencing duel with Laertes.

 

Plot

Plot is the events that unfold in a story; the action and direction of a story; the story line; the arrangement of ideas and/or incidents that make up a story.

Exposition

Exposition is the part of the plot that introduces the setting and characters and presents the events and situations that the story will focus on. The story of Hamlet begins with the view of Elsinore Castle. Outside the castle, a guard sees the statue of King Hamlet moves its hand. The scene introduces the character of the Ghost.

This part of story also introduces all of the important characters of Hamlet, which are Prince Hamlet, Claudius, Gertrude, Polonius, Ophelia, and Laertes. All of them are introduced on the event of the wedding of Claudius and Gertrude. Hamlet feels sick of his mother’s wedding while he is still mourning of his father’s death.

In this part of story, Fortinbras is also introduced as the enemy who wants to invade the land and take the throne of Denmark kingdom.

Rising Action

Rising action of a plot is the series of events that build up and create tension and suspense. This tension is a result of the basic conflict that exists and makes the story interesting. The rising action can be identified as the ingredients that complicate matters in a plot.

The complication comes after Hamlet meets the Ghost and finds out that his uncle, Claudius, is the murderer of his father. He starts to act mad and strange that complicates all of the people in the castle. The coming of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern complicates even more as they are paid as the spies to find out what is happening with Hamlet and his madness.

The relationship between Hamlet and Ophelia also becomes complicated because Polonius does not give his approval to their love.

Conflicts

Conflict is the struggle in a work of literature. This struggle may be between one person and another person or between a person and an animal, an idea or a thing (external conflict). It may also be between a person and himself or herself (internal conflict).

The internal conflict happens as Hamlet tries to manage his sorrow and act mad. He struggles with himself by faking crazy after his father’s death.

There are several external conflicts happen in Hamlet. The conflict between Hamlet and Claudius happens along the story. Hamlet shows the conflict with Claudius open to public through the play.

The conflict between Hamlet and Polonius happens because Polonius does not agree with their relationship. When Hamlet shows that he really cares of Ophelia, Polonius calls him mad. His conflict with Ophelia’s father drives new conflict with Ophelia because she obeys her father more than to love Hamlet. The peak of the conflict with Polonius is when Hamlet and Gertrude are having quarrel. Hamlet finds out that Polonius is hiding over the curtain, and stabs him.

Ophelia becomes crazy and drowns in the river. That situation drives the conflict between Hamlet and Laertes. Laertes frustrated of planning revenge for the death of his father and sister.

Climax

Climax is the highest point in a story. In Hamlet, this point occurs when Hamlet and Laertes finally gets their revenges. They have fencing duel and wound each other. They fights violently. Laertes cheats by using poisoned sword. Hamlet grabs Laertes’s sword and wound him with his poisoned sword.

Falling Action

Falling action is the sequence of events that follow the climax and end in the resolution. This is in contrast to the rising action which leads up to the plot's climax.

Falling action of the story is when Gertrude dies after drinking poisoned water that supposed to be drunk by Hamlet. She finds out that the poison is prepared by Claudius, his husband she loves so much.

Denouement

Denouement is the point close to the resolution. The denouement of this story is when Fortinbras comes, and everybody lying on the floor, dies, except Horatio. Horation tells the story to Fortinbras.

Resolution

Resolution is the part of the story's plot line in which the problem of the story is resolved or worked out. This occurs after the falling action and is typically where the story ends.

The resolution of the story is when Fortinbras takes the throne and becomes the king of Denmark. After the funeral of Prince Hamlet, the statue of King Hamlet is torn down.

 

Setting

Setting is the environment in which a story unfolds. It includes:

     (1) the time and period of history,

     (2) the place,

     (3) the atmosphere,

     (4) the clothing,

     (5) the living conditions, and

     (6) the social climate.

Sometimes the setting is extremely important. For example, the atmosphere can influence characters in a ghost story; the living conditions can influence characters in a story about class conflicts or life in prison.

Setting of Time

The film does not tell the setting of time. To discover the setting of time, it refers to the original play. The story of Hamlet is set in the late middle ages (14^th and 15^th centuries or in 1300 to 1499).

What can be seen obviously from the film is the atmosphere. The story happens in the cold winter. Most of the scenes are in the night time. The indoor scenes cannot be identified whether they happen in the day time or night time.

Setting of Place

Generally, the story takes place in Denmark. Most of the scenes take place in the Elsinore Castle.

The hall is used for the scenes of the wedding of Claudius and Gertrude, the meeting of Hamlet and Horatio, the arranged meeting of Hamlet and Ophelia, and the fighting scenes. When Hamlet has quarrel with Gertrude and stabs Polonius, it takes place in Gertrude’s bedroom. There is a love scene might happens in Ophelia’s bedroom. Few scenes show the office inside the castle. There is a room used to keep Ophelia with her madness. Also, there is a huge room used for performing the play.

The outdoor scenes set in several places. The scenes with the guards take place in front of the Elsinore Castle. Hamlet meets the Ghost in the wood. The scene when Claudius poisons King Hamlet is in the back yard of the castle. The scene when Hamlet meets Rosencrantz and Guildenstern takes place somewhere outside the castle. The funeral of Ophelia takes place in the grave yard. Also, the army of Fortinbras stands by on the war field away from the castle.

 

Theme

Themes are the fundamental and often universal ideas explored in a literary work. There are three important themes of Hamlet, which are madness, revenge, and the mystery of death.

All of the madness of the characters begins with Hamlet’s madness of his father’s death. Either he is really mad or only acts mad, his madness drives his strange behaviors and leads to bigger problems among people in Elsinore Castle. Polonius gets mad because he does not want his daughter have love affair with a madman. Claudius becomes mad after being accused by Hamlet as the murderer of his father. Gertrude is mad of Hamlet’s madness. Ophelia becomes mad after his father killed by Hamlet. Laertes is mad that Hamlet is the cause of Ophelia’s drowning.

The madness keeps the hatred alive. It drives to revenge. Blood for blood, life for life, and it is all paid. Hamlet takes revenge for his father’s death by killing Claudius, Laertes challenges Hamlet in fencing duel with poisoned sword for his father and sister, and Fortinbras gets the throne as the compensation of his father’s death. Hamlet points out that taking revenge does a matter.

The appearance of the Ghost indicates the values believed as the mystery of death and the life after death. The linger spirit of King Hamlet brings to Hamlet question of the way of his father dies. Taking revenge to the murderer is believed as the only way to end of the quest.

 

Genre

Genre is type or kind, as applied to literature and film. Examples of genres are romance, horror, tragedy, adventure, suspense, science fiction, epic poem, elegy, novel, historical novel, short story, and detective story.

Hamlet fits into the generic category of "Tragedy." More specifically, Hamlet is a classic "Revenge Tragedy," a popular genre in England during the late 16^th and early 17^th century that includes plays like Thomas Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy (c. 1587) and John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi (c. 1623). This genre is influenced by plays written by Seneca (c. 4 BC - 65 AD), who adapted Greek tragedies for the Roman theatre.

 

Dialogue

Dialogue is conversation in a play, short story, or novel. The dialogue in the film of Hamlet is unchanged from the original play. Hamlet, like Shakespeare's other plays, is written in a combination of verse (poetry) and prose (how we talk every day).

Here is the example of the dialogue in Hamlet:

OPHELIA

What means your lordship?

HAMLET

That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should
admit no discourse to your beauty.

OPHELIA

Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than
with honesty?

HAMLET

Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
force of honesty can translate beauty into his
likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
time gives it proof. I did love you once.

OPHELIA

Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

HAMLET

You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
it: I loved you not.

OPHELIA

I was the more deceived.

 

Audience

Audience is the act or chance of hearing; a reception by a great person; the person to hear. Audience is a group of individual who appreciate drama. Audience gives judgment about the genre, set the rules, determine the stages, and interpret the characters of the story. The contribution of the audience is giving the standard measurement. By the judgment of the audience, the drama will be either famous or drowning.

Hamlet got positive judgments from the audience. Hamlet was screened out of competition at the 1997 Cannes Film Festival. Hamlet received largely positive reviews. Some critics, notably Stanley Kauffmann, declared the film to be the finest motion picture version of Hamlet ever made, and online film critic James Berardinelli has gone so far as to declare the Branagh’s Hamlet the finest Shakespeare adaptation ever, rating it as the fourth best film of the 90s and one of his top 101 favourite films of all time.

The film also was nominated for four Academy Awards; Tim Harvey for Best Art Direction, Alex Byrne for Best Costume Design, Patrick Doyle for Best Original Score, and Kenneth Branagh for Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay).

 

Personal Comments

Shakespeare has successfully brought the deepest feeling of sorrow through Hamlet. It is ironic that a young prince lives unhappy life and dies tragically. Shakespeare’s intelligent in building the madness and hatred is the interest of the story. It is reflected from the character of Hamlet who is also genius in faking insane. That is why the characterization of Hamlet becomes my point of attraction.

Although Hamlet is a man full of hatred, he is also smart. He can manage all of his fear, sorrow, grudge, love, and passion to be a power in seeking revenge for his father’s unjust death. He is patient enough to calculate the best time to take revenge. He executes the action in an elegant way by performing a play satirizing Claudius and Gertrude.

I like the way Hamlet loves Ophelia. His love to Ophelia shows the sanity of the madman. Although his love to Ophelia is not blessed by Polonius, he keeps the feeling for Ophelia. He always loves her. He screams “I loved Ophelia! Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum” in the grave yard before she is buried.

Hamlet is also a brave man. He accepts the challenge of Laertes to have a fencing duel. On the day of the duel, he shows his good manner as the first person who apologizes. He is such a gentleman by saying “I have done you wrong” to Laertes. Whether I do not know he is sincere or faking it, what he does shows the intelligence of someone considered insane. Hamlet is the best description of lunatic genius.

 

References

http://contemporarylit.about.com/cs/literaryterms/g/fallingAction.htm

http://contemporarylit.about.com/cs/literaryterms/g/resolution.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamlet_%281996_film%29

http://homeworktips.about.com/od/writingabookreport/a/risingaction.htm

http://litera1no4.tripod.com/elements.html

http://schoolworkhelper.net/2010/08/queen-gertrude-character-analysis-hamlet/

http://shakespeare.mit.edu/hamlet/full.html

http://www.cummingsstudyguides.net/xLitTerms.html#Literary%20Terms

http://www.roanestate.edu/owl/ElementsLit.html

http://www.shmoop.com/hamlet/genre.html

http://www.shmoop.com/hamlet/setting.html

http://www.shmoop.com/hamlet/writing-style.html

http://www.sparknotes.com/shakespeare/hamlet/themes.html

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Balada Kawah Ratu dan BlackBerry

Untuk memanfaatkan hari libur terakhir sebelum masuk kerja, saya memutuskan untuk berkunjung ke Gunung Tangkuban Perahu bersama Rosalinda Ayamor--nama panggilan yang saya berikan untuk si mbak yang kerja di rumah. Kami berangkat dari rumah pukul 12 lebih sedikit dengan motor saya, si Paria. Entah pukul berapa kami sampai di sana karena saya tidak memakai jam tangan. Yang jelas begitu memarkirkan si Paria, kami langsung mampir ke warung bakso yang dua porsinya seharga Rp 42.000!! Ya, sudahlah... memang kami waktu itu sedang sangat lapar karena belum makan siang.

Setelah selesai makan bakso, kami langsung menjelajah kawasan Gunung Tangkuban Perahu. Tidak ketinggalan, foto-foto!! Dimulai dari papan bertuliskan "Gunung Tangkuban Perahu", terus berlanjut di sepanjang trek di sisi kawahnya.

Entah mengapa papan petunjuk, papan nama, atau papan apapun itu menjadi daya tarik sendiri untuk dijadikan objek dalam foto. Bukan hanya bagi kami, tapi bagi setiap pengunjung di objek wisata apapun, di manapun itu. Mungkin semua orang ingin membuktikan pada orang lain bahwa mereka benar-benar pernah mengunjungi tempat-tempat tersebut dengan berfoto dengan papan petunjuk.

Begitu juga dengan kami. Papan bertuliskan 'Kawah Ratu' begitu menarik perhatian kami. Kamipun terpanggil untuk berfoto dengan papan itu. Sayangnya, perjuangan untuk dapat berfoto dengan sang papan cukup berat. Sudah banyak orang yang menunggu giliran berfoto dengan papan itu.

Lalu tibalah giliran sekelompok perempuan di depan kami. Sebenarnya saya tidak masalah untuk menunggu giliran, tapi perempuan-perempuan itu mungkin masuk ke dalam kategori perempuan rese. Sepertinya mereka sengaja berlama-lama berfoto di papan 'Kawah Ratu' sementara orang lain banyak yang menunggu. Sambil tertawa-tawa dan terus berkata, "Lagi, dong! Lagi, dong!"

Mereka juga melihat hasil foto tanpa beranjak dari sisi papan 'Kawah Ratu' incaran para pengunjung itu, lalu berteriak, "Lagi, dong! Lagi, dong!"

Bagian yang paling menyebalkan adalah saat salah satu dari mereka berkata dengan kencang, "Eh, liat! Yang pake Onyx gue bagus banget hasilnya!"

Lalu perempuan yang menimpali, "Bagusan yang pake Javelin gue, kale!"

Lalu seorang lagi tidak mau kalah, "Ga mungkin! Mana ada cerita Onyx sama Javelin lebih bagus dari Torch!"

Onyx, Javelin, Torch.

Dalam hati saya bertanya, kamera jenis apakah gerangan Onyx, Javelin, dan Torch itu? Karena penasaran, saya pun mencuri-curi lihat kamera apa yang mereka pegang. Betapa saya merasa bodoh karena yang mereka pakai untuk berfoto ternyata adalah ponsel BlackBerry!

Begini, saya memang tidak tahu-menahu soal dunia per-BB-an karena saya tidak memakai ponsel BlackBerry. Bukan saya tidak mampu, hanya saya tidak mau. Saya lebih memilih menggunakan ponsel Android. Jadi maklumlah untuk ketidaktahuan saya. Tapi terlepas dari tahu atau tidaknya saya tentang makhluk apakah itu Onyx, Javelin, Torch, atau apalah itu, untuk apa juga mereka semangat sekali meneriakkan nama-nama itu? Memangnya mereka dibayar oleh BlackBerry?

Ponsel yang mereka pegang itu (mungkin) keren, tapi apa yang terjadi berikutnya sangatlah tidak ada keren-kerennya. Salah satu perempuan kemudian berkata, "Ternyata emang bagusan yang pake Onyx! Kalo gitu gue mau foto yang di Onyx lu."

Lalu perempuan yang diajak bicara itu malah bertanya, "Caranya gimana, ya?"

"Ntar gue pinjem card raidernya."

"Oh, gitu..."

TETOT!!

Itu adalah percakapan paling bodoh yang pernah saya dengar. Seharusnya para pemilik ponsel yang (mungkin) secanggih dan (mungkin) sekeren BlackBerry tahu bagaimana cara efektif untuk mengirim file tanpa harus melepas memory cardnya dan meminjam card reader. Lagipula, sejak kapan reader dibaca RAIDER? Saya setengah mati menahan supaya tidak tertawa.

Don't judge a book from its cover. Ternyata orang-orang yang memegang ponsel keren belum tentu omongannya juga keren. Dan pelajaran berharga yang saya dapat hari ini adalah, jangan mempermalukan diri sendiri di depan papan 'Kawah Ratu'!

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Cakar Monyet

--diterjemahkan dari cerita pendek "The Monkey's Paw" karya W. W. Jacobs

“Berhati-hatilah dengan apa yang kau minta, kau mungkin akan mendapatkannya.” – Anonim

Bagian I

Meskipun malam itu dingin dan basah, namun di dalam ruang tamu kecil di Vila Laburnam, tirainya terbuka dan perapian menyala terang. Seorang ayah dan anak laki-lakinya sedang bermain catur; sang ayah yang memiliki pemikiran bahwa permainan catur itu menyangkut peluang-peluang radikal, menempatkan bidak rajanya tepat pada posisi berbahaya yang tidak perlu sehingga langkah tersebut bahkan memancing komentar dari seorang wanita tua dengan rambut yang beruban yang sedang merajut dengan tenang di dekat perapian.

“Dengarkan suara angin,” kata Tuan White yang berusaha mengalihkan perhatian putranya karena ia terlambat menyadari kesalahan fatalnya.

“Aku dengar,” ujar sang anak geram sambil memperhatikan papan catur seraya merentangkan tangannya. “Skak.”

“Seharusnya aku tidak berharap ia akan datang malam ini,” kata sang ayah dengan tangan yang bersiap di atas papan catur.

“Teman?” timpal putranya.

“Itulah yang terburuk dari hidup di tempat yang begitu jauh,” teriak Tuan White tiba-tiba dan tak bermaksud kasar; “dari semua tempat yang terpencil, becek, dan menjijikkan yang bisa ditinggali, inilah yang terburuk. Jalanan kecilnya berlumpur, dan jalan besarnya banjir. Aku tidak tahu apa yang orang-orang pikirkan. Aku rasa karena hanya dua rumah di jalan itu yang disewakan, mereka pikir itu hal itu tidak masalah.”

“Sudahlah, sayang,” ujar istrinya menghibur; “mungkin Bapak akan menang di permainan berikutnya.”

Tuan White mendongak tajam, tepat di saat ia menangkap tatapan penuh arti antara ibu dan anak. Kata-katanya tenggelam, dan ia menyembunyikan seringai bersalahnya di balik jenggot putih tipisnya.

“Itu dia datang,” kata Herbert White ketika terdengar suara keras yang berasal dari pintu gerbang dan langkah kaki yang berat mendekati pintu.

Lelaki tua itu bangkit dengan sopan dan membuka pintu, terdengar sapaan penuh simpati atas kedatangan tamu tersebut. Sang tamu yang baru datang itu pun bersimpati atas dirinya, sehingga Nyonya White berkata “Tut, tut!” dan berdeham pelan saat suaminya memasuki ruangan diikuti oleh seorang lelaki tinggi tegap dengan mata kecil bercahaya dan berwajah merah.

“Sersan Mayor Morris,” katanya memperkenalkan diri.

Sersan mayor itu berjabat tangan dan duduk di kursi yang di tawarkan di dekat perapian, memandang puas ketika sang tuan rumah membawakan wiski dan gelas-gelas minuman dan meletakkan ceret tembaga di atas perapian.

Di gelasnya yang ketiga, matanya menjadi lebih berbinar, dan ia mulai bicara, keluarga kecil itu mengelilingi sang tamu dengan rasa penasaran yang besar karena tamunya itu baru datang dari tempat yang jauh, saat ia menegakakkan bahu bidangnya di kursi dan menceritakan peristiwa-peristiwa yang asing dan aksi-aksi yang berani; tentang perang dan wabah penyakit dan orang-orang aneh.

“Dua puluh satu tahun lamanya,” kata Tuan White, sambil mengangguk pada istri dan anak laki-lakinya. “Ketika dia pergi, dia hanya seorang pemuda biasa di sebuah gudang. Sekarang lihatlah dia!”

“Dia tidak terlihat seperti sudah mengarungi banyak hal berbahaya,” kata Nyonya White sopan.

“Aku ingin pergi ke India sendirian,” kata lelaki tua itu, “sekadar untuk lihat-lihat sedikit, kau tahu, lah.”

“Lebih baik kau di sini,” kata sersan mayor itu sambil menggelengkan kepalanya. Ia meletakkan gelasnya yang kosong dan menghela nafas pelan, lalu menggeleng lagi.

“Aku ingin melihat kuil-kuil tua dan ahli-ahli sihir dan para pemain sulap itu,” kata laki-laki tua itu. “Apa yang hendak kau ceritakan padaku tempo hari tentang cakar monyet atau apalah itu, Morris?”

“Bukan apa-apa,” kata sang prajurit dengan cepat. “Hal kecil, tak ada gunanya didengarkan.”

“Cakar monyet?” ujar Nyonya White penasaran.

“Ya, mungkin ini hanya hal kecil tentang apa yang barangkali kalian sebut sihir,” kata Sersan Mayor begitu saja.

Ketiga pendengarnya mencondongkan badan ke depan dengan tak sabar. Tamu itu tak sadar menempelkan gelas kosongnya di bibirnya dan kemudian meletakkannya kembali. Tuan rumahnya menuangkan lagi wiski untuknya.

“Kalau dilihat,” kata sersan mayor itu sambil meraba-raba ke dalam sakunya, “ini hanya sebuah cakar kecil biasa, yang dikeringkan menjadi mumi.”

Ia mengeluarkan sesuatu dari sakunya dan mengulurkannya. Nyonya White melangkah mundur sambil menyeringai, tetapi putranya mengambilnya, mengamatinya dengan penasaran.

“Lalu apa yang istimewa dengan cakar ini?” tanya Tuan White seraya mengambil cakar itu dari tangan putranya, dan setelah mengamatinya, diletakkannya cakar itu di atas meja.

“Cakar ini diberi mantra oleh seorang ahli sihir tua,” kata sersan mayor itu, “seorang lelaki yang sangat sakti. Dia ingin menunjukan bahwa takdir menentukan hidup manusia, dan bahwa mereka yang mencampuri apa yang menjadi takdir mereka maka akan datang nestapa pada mereka. Dia mengucapkan mantra pada cakar ini sehingga tiga orang berbeda masing-masing dapat mengajukan tiga permintaan pada cakar ini.”

Caranya berbicara sangat mengesankan sehingga para pendengarnya sadar bahwa tawa kecil mereka jadi agak menggelegar.

“Baiklah, lalu mengapa Anda tidak mengajukan tiga permintaan itu, Tuan?” tanya Herbert White cerdik.

Prajurit itu menanggapinya seperti yang biasa seorang paruh baya lakukan dalam menanggapi pemuda angkuh. “Sudah,” jawabnya perlahan, dan wajahnya yang berbintik-bintik memucat.

“Dan apakah ketiga permintaanmu benar-benar dikabulkan?” tanya Nyonya White.

“Ya,” kata sersan mayor itu, dan gelasnya beradu dengan gigi-giginya yang kuat.

“Dan apakah ada orang lain yang pernah mengajukan permohonan?” selidik wanita tua itu.

“Ya, orang pertama telah mengajukan tiga permintaannya,” jawabnya. “Aku tidak tahu dua permintaan pertamanya, tapi yang ketiga menyebabkan kematian. Begitulah aku mendapatkan cakar itu.”

Nada suaranya begitu berat sehingga orang-orang di sekitarnya terdiam.

“Jika kau sudah mengajukan tiga permintaanmu, lalu tidak ada gunanya lagi sekarang cakar itu untukmu, Morris,” ujar lelaki tua itu akhirnya. “Untuk apa kau menyimpannya?”

Prajurit itu menggelengkan kepalanya. “Hiasan, sepertinya menarik,” katanya perlahan. “Saya pernah berpikir untuk menjualnya, tapi rasanya tidak akan saya jual. Cakar itu sudah cukup merepotkan saya. Selain itu, orang-orang tidak akan membelinya. Beberapa dari mereka berpikir ini hanya sebuah dongeng; dan mereka yang berpikir apapun selain itu ingin mencobanya dulu dan baru akan membayar setelahnya.”

“Jika kau bisa mengajukan tiga permintaan lagi,” kata laki-laki tua itu sambil menatapnya dengan tajam, “apakah kau mau memintanya?”

"Aku tidak tahu,” sahutnya. “Aku tidak tahu.”

Dia mengambil cakar itu, dan mengapitnya di antara telunjuk dan ibu jarinya, tiba-tiba dilemparkannya cakar itu ke dalam perapian. White, dengan sedikit berteriak, membungkuk dan cepat-cepat mengambilnya.

“Lebih baik biarkan cakar itu terbakar,” kata prajurit itu serius.

“Jika kau tidak menginginkannya, Morris,” kata laki-laki tua itu, “berikan padaku.”

“Tidak akan,” kata temannya bersikeras. “Cakar itu sudah kulempar ke dalam api. Jika kau menyimpannya, jangan salahkanku jika nanti terjadi sesuatu. Jika kau punya akal sehat, lemparkan cakar itu ke dalam api.”

Laki-laki tua itu menggelengkan kepalanya dan mengamati cakar yang baru dimilikinya itu lekat-lekat. “Bagaimana kau melakukannya?” tanyanya.

“Angkat cakar itu dengan tangan kananmu dan ucapkan permintaanmu dengan kencang,” kata sersan mayor itu, “tapi aku peringatkan kau akan konsekuensinya.”

“Terdengar seperti cerita Arabian Nights,” kata Nyonya White seraya bangkit dan mulai menyiapkan makan malam. “Tidakkah Bapak mempertimbangkan untuk meminta empat pasang tangan untukku?”

Suaminya menarik keluar jimat itu dari sakunya dan kemudia ketiganya tertawa ketika sersan mayor itu, dengan rauh wajah gelisah, menyergap lengannya.

“Jika kau ingin mengajukan permintaan,” katanya tegas, “mintalah sesuatu yang masuk akal.”

Tuan White memasukkan kembali cakar itu ke dalam sakunya, dan setelah mengatur kursi, memberi isyarat pada kawannya untuk menuju meja makan. Saat makan malam berlangsung jimat itu hampir terlupakan, dan sesudahnya ketiganya duduk dengan terpesona saat mendengarkan sesi kedua cerita petualangan prajurit tersebut di India.

“Jika dongeng tentang cakar monyet itu tidak lebih benar dari apa yang tadi sudah dia ceritakan pada kita,” kata Herbert, ketika pintu tertutup di balik punggung tamu mereka, di saat yang tepat untuknya mengejar kereta terakhir, “kita tidak akan bisa berbuat banyak dengan cakar itu.”

“Apakah Bapak memberikan sesuatu untuk mendapatkan cakar itu?” tanya Nyonya White, menatap lekat suaminya.

“Sedikit,” katanya datar. “Dia tidak mau, tapi aku berhasil memaksa dia mengambilnya. Dan lagi-lagi dia mendesakku untuk membuang cakar itu.”

“Sepertinya mengerikan,” ujar Herbert dengan wajah yang berpura-pura takut. “Mengapa harus dibuang? Kita akan menjadi kaya, dan terkenal, dan bahagia. Untuk memulainya, buatlah permintaan untuk menjadi seorang kaisar, Ayah; nanti Ayah tidak akan dikuasai terus di bawah ketiak Ibu.”

Herbert melesat mengitari meja, karena dikejar oleh Nyonya White yang difitnah sambil mengacung-acungkan kain penutup kursi sebagai senjatanya.

Tuan White mengambil cakar itu dari sakunya dan menatapnya dengan penuh keraguan. “Aku tidak tahu akan meminta apa, dan memang begitu kenyataannya,” katanya pelan. “Rasanya aku sudah punya semuanya.”

“Jika Ayah menjual seisi rumah saja Ayah baru akan merasa agak bahagia, kan?” ujar Herbert, dengan tangannya merangkul bahu ayahnya. “Kalau begitu, mintalah dua ratus pound; cakar itu akan mengabulkannya begitu saja.”

Ayahnya, dengan tersenyum malu karena begitu mudahnya terpengaruh ucapan sang anak, memegang jimat itu, sementara putranya dengan wajah serius, yang sedikit rusak keseriusannya oleh sebuah kedipan pada ibunya, duduk di depan piano dan menekan-nekan beberapa tuts dengan nada-nada yang mengesankan.

“Aku minta dua ratus pound,” kata lelaki tua itu dengan jelas.

Suara tajam dentingan piano terdengar menyambut kata-katanya, diikuti oleh teriakan mengerikan dari lelaki tua itu. Istri dan putranya berlari ke arahnya.

“Cakar itu bergerak,” serunya dengan tatapan ngeri pada benda yang tergeletak di lantai itu. “Ketika aku membuat permintaan, cakar itu membelit tanganku seperti seekor ular.”

“Begini, aku tidak melihat uangnya,” ujar putranya sambil memungut cakar itu dan meletakkannya di atas meja, “dan aku berani bertaruh, aku takkan pernah melihatnya.”

“Tadi itu pasti hanya khayalanmu saja kan, Pak,” kata istrinya sambil menatap suaminya dengan cemas.

Ia menggelengkan kepala. “Ya sudahlah; lagipula tidak ada sesuatu yang berbahaya yang terjadi, tapi kejadian tadi benar-benar membuatku terkejut.”

Mereka duduk di dekat perapian lagi sementara kedua ayah dan anak itu menyelesaikan merokok dari pipa mereka. Di luar angin berhembus lebih kencang dari biasanya, lelaki tua itu mulai gelisah dengan adanya suara bantingan pintu yang berasal dari lantai atas. Keheningan terasa tak biasa dan kemuramam menetap pada perasaan ketiganya, yang terus berlangsung hingga pasangan paruh baya itu beranjak untuk pergi tidur di sisa malam itu.

“Aku berharap Ayah dan Ibu akan menemukan uangnya terikat di dalam sebuah tas besar di tengah-tengah tempat tidur kalian,” ujar Herbert sambil mengucapkan selamat malam pada kedua orang tuanya, “dan sesuatu yang mengerikan sedang berjongkok di atas lemari pakaian kalian sambil mengawasi Ayah dan Ibu yang sedang mengantongi uang haram itu.”

Tuan White duduk sendirian di dalam kegelapan, seraya menatap api yang hampir padam, dan melihat ada wajah-wajah yang terbentuk di api. Wajah terakhir yang dilihatnya benar-benar mengerikan dan begitu mirip dengan monyet hingga ia menatapnya dengan tegang. Bentuk wajah itu begitu jelas sampai-sampai, dengan sedikit tawa gelisah, ia merasa ingin menyiram wajah di api itu dengan sebuah gelas di atas meja yang berisi sedikit air. Tangannya menggenggam cakar monyet itu, dan dengan sedikit gemetar ia menyeka tangannya pada mantelnya dan beranjak ke tempat tidur.

Bagian II

Di cerahnya matahari musim dingin ketika menyinari meja makan keesokan paginya, Herbert menertawakan rasa takutnya. Udara segar, yang malam sebelumnya tidak ada, berhembus seperti biasanya di sekitar ruangan itu, dan cakar kecil yang kisut dan kotor itu diletakkan sembrono di atas bufet yang menunjukkan cakar itu tidak terlalu dipercaya akan kesaktiannya.

“Kurasa semua tentara tua sama saja,” kata Nyonya White. “Semua yang kita dengar itu omong kosong belaka! Bagaimana mungkin permintaan dapat terkabul begitu saja di zaman sekarang? Dan jika memang bisa, bagaimana mungkin uang dua ratus pound dapat menyakitimu, Pak?”

“Mungkin saja jatuh dari langit dan menimpa kepala Ayah,” sahut Herbert asal bicara.

“Morris mengatakan banyak peristiwa yang terjadi begitu alami,” kata ayahnya, “sehingga kau mungkin mendapatkan apa yang kau minta dan berpikir semua itu hanya kebetulan saja.”

“Baiklah, jangan ambil uangnya sebelum aku kembali,” kata Herbert seraya beranjak dari duduknya. “Aku khawatir uang itu akan membuat Ayah menjadi seseorang yang licik dan serakah, dan kami harus menjauhi Ayah.”

Ibunya tertawa, dan mengikutinya sampai ke pintu, memandanginya menuruni jalan; dan saat kembali ke meja makan, ia sangat senang atas harga yang harus dibayar suaminya karena kehilangan kepercayaan dari putranya. Namun semua itu tidak menghalanginya bergegas menghampiri pintu saat petugas pos mengetuk pintu, tidak juga mencegahnya sedikit agak merujuk pada pensiunan sersan mayor yang ketagihan minuman keras saat mengetahui bahwa yang dibawa petugas pos adalah tagihan dari penjahit.

“Aku harap Herbert akan memberikan komentar-komentar lucunya lagi ketika dia pulang,” katanya saat mereka duduk di waktu makan malam.

“Aku yakin itu,” kata Tuan White sambil menuangkan bir untuknya sendiri; “tapi bagaimanapun, aku berani bersumpah benda itu bergerak di tanganku.”

“Bapak hanya mengira benda itu bergerak,” kata wanita tua itu lembut.

“Benda itu memang bergerak,” jawab suaminya. “Aku sama sekali tidak mengira-ngira; Pokoknya aku ---- Ada apa?”

Istrinya tak menjawab. Ia sedang mengawasi gerakan mencurigakan dari seorang pria di luar, yang mengintip ke dalam rumah dengan gelagat penuh keraguan, tampak bimbang memutuskan apakah ia akan masuk. Karena firasat mengatakan ini ada hubungannya dengan uang dua ratus pound, ia menyadari bahwa orang asing itu berpakaian rapi dan memakai topi sutra baru yang mengkilat. Tiga kali ia berhenti sejenak di gerbang, dan kemudian melanjutkan langkahnya. Keempat kalinya ia berdiri dengan tangannya berada di pintu gerbang, dan kemudian dengan tiba-tiba ia memutuskan untuk membuka gerbang dan melangkah di atas jalan setapak menuju rumah. Di saat yang sama Nyonya White menggerakkan kedua tangannya ke belakang tubuhnya, dan tergesa-gesa melepas ikatan tali celemeknya, menaruh pakaian berharga tersebut di bawah bantalan kursinya.

Ia mengatar orang asing, yang tampak tidak nyaman itu, ke dalam ruangan. Orang itu diam-diam menatapnya, dan mendengarkan penuh perhatian ketika wanita tua itu meminta maaf atas keadaan ruangan itu, dan atas mantel suaminya, sehelai pakaian yang biasa ia kenakan saat berkebun. Ia lalu menunggu dengan sesabar mungkin karena sebagai perempuan ia memperkenankan orang asing itu untuk memulai pembicaraan, tapi pada awalnya orang itu hanya terdiam canggung.

“Saya – diperintahkan untuk datang,” akhirnya ia berkata, dan membungkuk dan memungut sepotong kain dari celana panjangnya. “Saya dari perusahaan Maw and Meggins.”

Wanita tua itu mulai berkata. “Apakah ada masalah?” tanyanya terengah-engah. “Apakah terjadi sesuatu dengan Herbert? Apa yang telah terjadi? Ada apa?”

Suaminya menyela. “Ke sana, pergi ke sana, Bu,” katanya tergesa-gesa. “Duduklah, dan jangan langsung mengambil kesimpulan. Anda tidak membawa kabar buruk, saya yakin, Tuan,” dan menatap sendu istrinya.

“Maaf----” tamu itu mulai berucap.

“Apakah dia terluka?” desak sang ibu panik.

Tamu itu mengangguk. “Terluka parah,” katanya perlahan, “tapi dia sama sekali tak merasakan sakit.”

“Oh, syukurlah!” kata wanita tua itu sambil menggenggam tangannya. “Terima kasih, Tuhan! Terima----”

Ia tiba-tiba terdiam saat akhirnya mengerti maksud di balik pernyataan yang menakutkan itu dan ia melihat penegasan mengerikan atas ketakutannya pada wajah tamunya yang dipalingkan darinya. Ia terdiam menghela nafasnya, serta berpaling menghadap suaminya yang dungu, meletakkan tangan tuanya yang gemetar itu di tangan suaminya. Tercipta keheningan panjang.

“Dia terjebak di dalam mesin,” ucap tamu itu setelah beberapa saat dengan suara rendah.

“Terjebak di dalam mesin,” ulang Tuan White dengan setengah sadar, “begitu ya.”

Ia duduk sambil menatap kosong ke luar jendela, dan menggenggam tangan istrinya dengan kedua tangannya, menggenggamnya dengan erat seperti yang biasa ia lakukan dulu di saat mereka masih berpacaran hampir empat puluh tahun yang lalu.

“Dia satu-satunya yang kami miliki,” katanya sambil berpaling perlahan pada tamu itu. “Ini berat bagiku.”

Tamu itu berdeham, dan berdiri, berjalan perlahan mendekati jendela. “Perusahaan meminta saya untuk menyampaikan menyampaikan rasa simpati mereka yang tulus atas kehilangan besar yang menimpa Anda,” katanya tanpa menoleh. “Saya harap Anda akan mengerti bahwa saya hanyalah pegawai mereka dan hanya melaksanakan perintah.”

Tak ada jawaban; wajah wanita tua itu pucat, matanya menerawang, napasnya tak terdengar; pada wajah suaminya ada tatapan seperti berharap temannya sang sersan yang seharusnya mungkin bisa melakukan aksi pertamanya.

“Saya tadi akan menyampaikan bahwa Maw and Meggins tidak bertanggung jawab atas semua yang telah terjadi,” lanjut tamu itu. “Mereka sama sekali tidak mengakui kejadian itu sebagai kewajiban mereka, tapi atas pertimbangan jasa-jasa putra Anda pada perusahaan, mereka ingin memberi Anda sejumlah uang sebagai kompensasi.”

Tuan White melepaskan tangan istrinya, dan berdiri, memandang tamunya dengan tatapan mengerikan. Bibirnya yang kering berkata “Berapa?”

“Dua ratus poud,” jawabnya.

Tak menyadari jeritan istrinya, lelaki tua itu tersenyum samar, mengulurkan tangannya seperti orang buta, lalu jatuh, pingsan membentur lantai.

Bagian III

Di pemakaman baru yang luas, sekitar dua mil jauhnya, kedua orang tua itu menguburkan potongan-potongan jasad putranya, dan kembali ke rumah yang tenggelam dalam bayangan dan kesunyian. Semuanya terjadi begitu cepat sehingga pada awalnya mereka sulit untuk menerimanya, dan bertahan pada situasi penuh harap seolah-olah sesuatu yang lain akan terjadi--sesuatu yang lain yang dapat meringankan beban ini, yang terlalu berat untuk ditanggung oleh jiwa mereka yang tua.

Namun hari demi hari berlalu, dan harapan memberi ruang pada kepasrahan—sebuah penyerahan diri yang sia-sia dari seorang tua, terkadang disalahartikan sebagai ketidakacuhan. Kadang kala mereka sulit untuk saling bertukar kata, karena sekarang tak ada yang dapat mereka bicarakan, dan hari-hari mereka larut dalam kejemuan yang panjang.

Sekitar seminggu telah berlalu, laki-laki tua itu tiba-tiba terbangun di malam hari, merentangkan tangannya dan menyadari bahwa ia sendirian. Ruangan itu diselimuti kegelapan, dan suara tangisan lembut datang dari arah jendela. Ia bangkit dari tempat tidur dan mendengarkan.

“Kembalilah,” ucapnya lembut. “Kamu nanti kedinginan.”

“Lebih dingin lagi untuk anakku,” ucap wanita tua itu, dan kembali menangis.

Suara isak tangis istrinya perlahan menghilang dari pendengarannya. Ranjang itu hangat, dan matanya berat menahan kantuk. Ia tidur dengan gelisah, dan kemudian benar-benar tertidur sampai jeritan keras istrinya tiba-tiba mulai membangunkannya.

“Cakar itu!” jeritnya kencang. “Cakar monyet itu!”

Lelaki tua mulai merasa ketakutan. “Di mana? Di mana cakarnya? Apa yang terjadi?”

Ia tersandung melintasi kamar menghampiri suaminya. “Aku ingin cakar itu, “ ucapnya perlahan. “Bapak belum memusnahkan cakar itu, kan?”

“Cakar itu ada di ruang tamu, di atas rak,” jawabnya heran. “Mengapa?”

Ia menangis sekaligus tertawa, dan membungkuk, mencium pipi suaminya.

“Baru saja terpikir olehku,” ucapnya histeris. “Mengapa tidak terpikir olehku sebelumnya? Mengapa tidak terpikir olehmu?”

“Berpikir apa?” tanyanya.

“Dua permintaan yang lain,” jawabnya cepat. “Kita baru mengajukan satu permintaan.”

“Apa itu tidak cukup?” desaknya sengit.

“Tidak,” teriaknya penuh kemenangan; “Kita akan mengajukan satu permintaan lagi. Pergi ke bawah dan cepat ambil cakar monyet itu, dan ucapkan permintaan agar anak kita hidup kembali.”

Lelaki itu duduk tegak di tempat tidur dan menghempaskan kain seprai dari tungkainya yang gemetar. “Demi Tuhan, kau sudah gila!” ia terperanjat.

“Ambil cakar itu,” desaknya; “cepat ambil cakar itu, dan ucapkan permintaan---- Oh, anakku, anakku!”

Suaminya menyalakan korek api lalu menyalakan lilin. “Kembali ke tempat tidur,” ujarnya ragu. “Kau tidak sadar apa yang sedang kau ucapkan.”

“Permintaan pertama kita sudah dikabulkan,” kata wanita tua itu cepat; “mengapa tidak ajukan yang kedua?”

“Itu hanya kebetulan,” kata laki-laki tua itu tergagap.

“Pergi dan ambil cakar itu dan ucapkan permintaannya,” teriak wanita tua itu, bergetar penuh semangat.

Laki-laki tua itu berpaling dan memandangnya, dan suaranya gemetar. “Dia sudah meninggal selama sepuluh hari, dan selain itu dia--Aku tidak akan mengatakan yang lainnya padamu, tapi--Aku hanya bisa mengenalinya dari pakaiannya. Jika saat itu dia terlalu mengerikan untuk kau lihat, bagaimana dengan sekarang?”

“Kembalikan dia padaku,” wanita tua itu menjerit, dan menyeret suaminya ke arah pintu. “Bapak pikir aku takut pada anak yang sudah aku besarkan?”

Ia pun beranjak turun di kegelapan, dan meraba-raba menuju ruang tamu, dan kemudian menuju rak di atas perapian. Jimat itu ada di tempatnya, dan ketakutan yang luar biasa akan permintaan yang tak terucapkan itu, yang mungkin dapat mengembalikan putranya sudah terpotong-potong itu padanya sebelum ia dapat melarikan diri dari ruangan itu terus menghantuinya, dan ia berhenti sejenak dan menarik napas saat menyadari bahwa ia telah kehilangan arah menuju pintu. Dahinya terasa dingin oleh keringat, ia mengitari meja, dan meraba-raba sepanjang dinding sampai ia mendapati dirinya dalam sebuah koridor kecil dengan benda menjijikkan itu di tangannya.

Wajah istrinya bahkan tampak berubah saat ia memasuki ruangan itu. Wajahnya pucat dan penuh harap, dan baginya yang sedang ketakutan wajah seperti itu tampak terlihat tidak wajar. Ia takut pada istrinya.

“Ucapkan!” jeritnya dengan suara yang keras.

“Itu permintaan yang bodoh dan jahat,” ucapnya tertatih-tatih.

“Ucapkan!” ulang istrinya.

Ia mengangkat tangannya. “Aku ingin anakku hidup kembali.”

Jimat itu jatuh ke lantai, dan ia menatap cakar itu dengan penuh kengerian. Kemudian dengan gemetar ia menjatuhkan diri ke atas sebuah kursi saat wanita tua itu, dengan mata membara, berjalan menuju jendela dan menyingkap tirainya.

Ia duduk sampai menggigil kedinginan, sambil sesekali melirik pada sosok wanita tua itu yang sedang mengintip melalui jendela. Ujung lilin itu, yang sudah terbakar sampai ke pinggiran tempat lilinnya yang terbuat dari porselen, menciptakan bayangan yang berpendar-pendar di langit-langit dan dinding, sampai muncul sebuah pendaran yang lebih besar dari yang lainnya, lilin itu pun akhirnya padam. Laki-laki tua itu, dengan perasaan lega yang tak dapat diungkapkan dengan kata-kata atas kegagalan jimat itu, dia merangkak kembali ke ranjangnya, dan satu-dua menit kemudian wanita tua itu diam-diam dan acuh tak acuh datang menghampirinya.

Tak ada yang bicara, namun keduanya berbaring membisu sambil mendengarkan suara detikan jam. Anak tangga berderit, dan seekor tikus mencicit dan membuat suara berisik saat berlari melintasi dinding. Kegelapan itu menyesakkan dada, dan setelah berbaring selama beberapa waktu sambil mengumpulkan keberaniannya, ia mengambil kotak korek api, dan menyalakannya, lalu turun ke lantai bawah untuk mengambil sebatang lilin.

Di ujung anak tangga korek apinya padam, dan dia berhenti sejenak untuk menyalakan korek api yang lain; dan pada saat yang sama sebuah ketukan di pintu depan terdengar begitu pelan dan lembut sampai hampir tak terdengar.

Korek api berjatuhan dari tangannya dan berhamburan di koridor. Ia berdiri tak bergerak, napasnya menggantung sampai terdengar lagi suara ketukan. Kemudian ia berbalik dan melesat dengan cepat ke kamarnya, dan menutup pintu di belakangnya. Suara ketukan ketiga terdengar menembus ke dalam rumah itu.

“Apa itu?” wanita tua itu mulai menjerit.

“Tikus,” kata laki-laki tua itu dengan suara bergetar--“seekor tikus. Tikus itu melintas di depanku saat menaiki tangga.”

Istrinya duduk di ranjang sambil mendengarkan. Ketukan keras terdengar lagi dari dalam rumah.

“Itu Herbert!” ia menjerit. “Itu Herbert!”

Ia berlari menuju pintu, tetapi suaminya sampai lebih dulu, dan menangkap lengannya, mencengkeramnya kuat-kuat.

“Apa yang akan kau lakukan?” bisiknya parau.

“Itu anakku; itu Herbert!” ia memekik sambil berusaha melepaskan cengkeraman. “Aku lupa kuburannya dua mil jauhnya. Untuk apa Bapak mencengkeramku seperti ini? Lepaskan. Aku harus membuka pintu.”

“Demi Tuhan, jangan biarkan dia masuk,” laki-laki tua itu berteriak ketakutan.

“Bapak takut pada anakmu sendiri,” jeritnya sambil terus berjuang melepaskan diri. “Lepaskan aku. Ibu datang, Herbert; Ibu datang.”

Suara ketukan di pintu terdengar tak henti-henti. Wanita tua itu dengan sentakan yang tiba-tiba membebaskan diri dan berlari keluar ruangan. Suaminya mengikutinya sampai ke ujung anak tangga, dan memanggilnya sambil memohon-mohon sewaktu ia bergegas menuruni tangga. Ia mendengar suara rantai bergeretak dan selot bawah pintu ditarik pelahan dan bergerak kaku dari soketnya. Kemudian terdengar suara wanita tua itu tegang dan terengah-engah.

“Selotnya,” jeritnya kencang. “Cepat turun. Aku tidak bisa menggapainya.”

Tetapi suaminya sedang berlutut dan tangannya meraba-raba dengan liar di lantai untuk mencari cakar itu. Jika saja ia dapat menemukannya sebelum makhluk di luar sana masuk ke dalam rumah. Berondongan ketukan yang bertubi-tubi menggema di seluruh rumah, dan ia mendengar suara kursi yang diseret saat istrinya meletakkannya tersungkur di koridor menghadap pintu. Ia mendengar suara derit selot perlahan terbuka, dan pada saat bersamaan ia menemukan cakar monyet itu, dan dengan kalut diucapkannya permintaannya yang ketiga dan sekaligus permintaan terakhirnya.

Suara ketukan itu lambat laun menghilang, walaupun gemanya masih terdengar di dalam rumah. Ia mendengar suara kursi yang ditarik kembali, suara pintu terbuka. Angin dingin menyeruak ke atas tangga, dan raungan kekecewaan dan kesedihan yang keras dan panjang dari istrinya memberinya keberanian untuk berlari turun menghampirinya, dan kemudian menuju gerbang di luar sana. Cahaya lampu jalan yang berkelap-kelip di atasnya menyinari jalan yang sunyi dan sepi.

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Baru Bisa Cerita Setelah Keluar Bali

Minggu lalu saya ke Bali dalam rangka kegiatan kampus. Walaupun bukan benar-benar liburan, tapi saya senang bisa ke Bali lagi setelah 9 tahun! Waktu itu ke Bali tahun 2002. Itu pun sebagai acara perpisahan SMU. Sama saja sebenarnya dengan yang kemarin, kegiatan formal yang dibungkus dalam format liburan. Tempat-tempat yang dikunjungi juga sama seperti 9 tahun yang lalu. Karena itu sebenarnya tidak ada cerita yang terlalu istimewa untuk diceritakan dari acara ke Bali ini. Lagipula nanti saya akan menulis laporan resminya. Jadi bukan soal kegiatan di Bali yang akan saya ceritakan di sini.

Ada dua cerita yang ingin saya ceritakan. Tapi karena alasan tertentu, saya baru bisa menceritakannya setelah keluar dari pulau Bali. Cerita yang pertama agak berbau mistis. Jujur saja walaupun saya bukan seorang penakut, tapi saya tidak ingin terjadi sesuatu yang tidak diinginkan karena saya salah bicara. Sedangkan cerita yang kedua... adalah cerita yang sebenarnya malu untuk saya ceritakan.

Baiklah, kita mulai saja cerita yang pertama, yang sudah sukses saya ceritakan kepada teman-teman saya setelah keluar dari Bali. Bagaimanapun saya sadar bahwa saya harus hati-hati bicara di Bali kalau tidak mau kena batunya. Bali adalah tempat yang misterius, menurut saya. Aroma mistisnya kental sekali karena sejauh mata memandang kita bisa lihat patung-patung bersarung, bunga-bunga sesajen yang diletakkan di pinggir jalan, ditambah lagi bau dupa--atau menyan, entahlah--yang begitu menyengat. Sebenarnya saya berharap akan ada suatu kejadian aneh yang terjadi saat di Bali, entah itu ada yang kesurupan atau ada suatu penampakan di foto, tapi ternyata tidak terjadi sama sekali. Hanya ada satu kejadian kecil yang membuat saya lumayan merinding.

Selama di Bali saya menginap di Goodway Hotels & Resort di daerah Nusa Dua. Hotel ini letaknya di bukit yang jauh dari mana-mana. Saya mendapat kamar 1818--nomor favorit saya! Di kamar ini saya berbagi dengan empat teman perempuan. Karena saya mandinya lama sekali, jadi ketika waktunya mandi saya harus mandi paling pertama atau paling terakhir agar tidak mengganggu teman-teman sekamar saya yang juga ingin mandi. Kegiatan kami yang padat dan baru berakhir hampir larut malam membuat saya--yang mendapat giliran mandi paling akhir--baru bisa mandi setelah lewat pukul 12 malam. Dan setiap malam ketika mandi saya merasa ada "orang lain" di kamar mandi yang selalu memperhatikan saya. Saya tidak melihatnya tapi saya tahu dia ada di sana. Apalagi ditambah kejadian tirai di kamar mandi yang bergerak-gerak ke arah saya seperti tertiup angin, padahal di arah berlawanan tidak ada jendela atau AC atau sesuatu apapun itu yang bisa menimbulkan tiupan angin. Aneh sekali...

Saya tahu ada sesuatu di sana tapi saya diam saja sampai saya meninggalkan Bali. Saya tidak membicarakan hal itu ketika di Bali karena saya tidak mau "dia" tahu kalau  saya tahu keberadaannya. Kalau hal itu terjadi jujur saja saya takut "dia" akan terus mengikuti saya sampai ke Bandung. Karena itu saya diam saja dan berpura-pura tidak terjadi apa-apa daripada nanti malah kenapa-kenapa.

Cerita kedua sebenarnya tidak penting, tapi saya sangat ingin menceritakannya di sini karena saya malu dan tidak bisa membicarakannya pada teman-teman saya. Ini menyangkut seseorang yang juga mereka kenal. Entah apa namanya, tapi sepertinya saya mengagumi teman saya sendiri, dan semua bermula di Bali. Saya sebenarnya sudah tahu orang ini setahun yang lalu karena dia mengambil beberapa kuliah yang sama dengan saya, tapi entah kenapa saya tidak begitu memperhatikan keberadaannya. Ketika di Bali, saat berada di bus yang kami tumpangi, saya melihat dia sedang membaca buku. Karena penasaran saya pun mendekat, dan ternyata yang dibacanya adalah sebuah novel tebal berbahasa Inggris! Saya saja yang suka membaca tidak suka membaca buku berbahasa asing, walaupun itu bahasa Inggris. Menurut saya dia keren sekali karena membaca buku berbahasa Inggris. Waktu saya tanya apakah dia suka baca dan dia mengiyakan, seketika itu juga dia langsung berubah dari seseorang yang tidak pernah saya lihat jadi orang yang paling keren!

Semua gara-gara buku! Saya suka buku, jadi saya suka orang yang suka buku juga. Dan kalau dipikir-pikir mungkin agak aneh, tapi entah kenapa saya--sepertinya--jadi nge-fans sama dia. Hahaha... =n_n=

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Raymond Cook's Why Have You Stayed Behind: Analysis of Plot

WHY HAVE YOU STAYED BEHIND?
Raymond Cook


Every Sunday morning just past 9am, I'd arrive at the Longbranch Cemetery to mow the grounds. This morning though I would discover would be very different. For near a headstone which showed a child's face, I stopped to take a break. After a few moments, I crawled over to the headstone to rub off some of the moss and mold, to read the words. Her name was Martha, and she died on May 17, 1900 of small pox, a deadly disease back then. I didn't stay there much longer beyond saying softly, "I'm sure your mommy and daddy love and miss you very much!"

I went about my job, and by afternoon the grounds looked good as new! It was then that for no particular reason, I looked up towards Martha's grave near a tall oak tree. I was startled, as I saw a small child standing next to the headstone. She had beautiful long wavy blonde hair, and looked about seven years old. She wore a dress like the ones I saw on Little House On The Prairie TV series. She was looking down at the words I had read, then she turned and looked directly into my eyes. Her eyes looked so sad, that I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. I was over come with a feeling of helplessness for her.

As she watched me walk slowly toward the wrought iron gate of the cemetery, she raised her tiny hand and shook her head no! In the time it took to blink tears away, she touched her headstone and vanished. I opened one side of the gate, and made my way back up the hill to her grave. When I reached her resting place...I kneeled down and whispered; "Why have you stayed behind, my little one?" I sat there on the cool green grass, as the wind blew fall leaves to the ground. Each leaf glistened as it was caught in the sun light, resembling angel's descending from heaven. My heart was heavy, realizing such a small child had passed away! She must be lost! She doesn't know what to do or where to go since she died.

I wish, I wish, I wish, I cried, I wish I could have held her, and tried to comfort her. I wanted to show her she wasn't alone. She lingers in this cemetery, a place that doesn't offer her peace or comfort. Maybe she is waiting for her parents to come and take her home with them? I felt as helpless as she felt, but what could I do? As I began to stand, I touched her headstone softly and whispered, "I'll come back tomorrow Martha, with a surprise for you."

When I returned the next day, I wasn't alone. I had searched that afternoon from one second hand store, to another until I found what I had been looking for. I found a Raggedy Ann doll. It had been well cared for, probably kept in someone's hope chest. It was my hope that Martha had such a doll as this one. I had seen alot of western movies where a small child had a Raggedy Ann doll, just like this one! I couldn't think of any other gift that might bring some comfort to her. When I parked my truck in front of the cemetery the next day, I smiled. But by the time I had sat down next to Martha's headstone there were tears once more in my eyes. But they were good tears.

Often times when a child has been hurt or is frightened, a stuffed animal is just what they need to hold! I propped up the doll against her headstone as I felt a smile come across my face. I spoke to Martha, as if she were there beside me. I talked about some of my childhood memories, times when I felt alone. Times when I cried. I told her that I had brought a friend. A friend who would love her and never leave her.

Someone she could talk to and play with, and that it was a gift from me. I stood up and leaned down and kissed her headstone softly, wiped my eyes and whispered, "Good-bye Martha!" I had almost reached my truck, when suddenly, I heard the sound of a child giggling. I turned quickly around and watched as Martha hugged her doll! I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes, as she smiled down at me and waved at me before she disappeared.

Several days later, I stopped at the small white country church, with a pastor’s house attached to the back side. I had never attended Pastor John's services because I lived in a near-by town. I felt very nervous about trying to find a way to explain to the Pastor what I had seen in his cemetery. But I was equally nervous about what his response would be! Would he even believe me? I stepped out of my truck and hesitated. I was about to get back into my truck and leave, when the front door of the church opened. He wasn't quite the Pastor I expected to see, dressed in bib overalls, with a paint can and brush in his hand. He sat them both down, smiled, and made his way down the church steps to greet me.

"My name is Pastor John my friend, welcome," and he shook my hand firmly. I could tell by his hand shake that he was no stranger to hard work. I told him my name was Raymond, and that his wife had hired me to mow the cemetery once a week. With a sparkle in his eyes, he nodded, and motioned for me to follow him. "I've got a pitcher of ice tea, Raymond. By the warmth of the sun, I'd say we could both use a glass"; and he laughed. He spoke to me with gentleness, a man of wisdom. I followed behind him as we made our way through the small church and into his office. Pastor John poured two glasses and handed me one and I thanked him, as he motioned for me to take a chair. "I'm so glad to have your help Raymond, mowing the cemetery lawns just takes my breath away," he said with a smile.

His office was a plain and simple one, with a large painting of Jesus, hanging next to the window looking out at the cemetery. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about Pastor, there's a problem." He looked at me with concern, then curiousity, but remained silent. “While I was working next door yesterday, well…" then he watched my eyes begin to water. His eyes grew wide with concern, and he began to speak. "You must have seen her too, the little girl, you saw my Martha?" Tears of relief flowed down my cheeks and his, as I nodded unable to speak.

Pastor John pulled a red checkered handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes his eyes. "Martha was six years old when she died of small pox, Raymond. Her mom and dad, and many neighbors left this area to escape the disease. I've got relatives buried in this cemetery Raymond. Martha isn't kin to me, but she is a lost soul! I have tried to speak to her, I have prayed for her. Still she lingers in our cemetery, and my spirit has suffered."

"I haven't told my wife about Martha, nor anyone else. I was beginning to think that I was the only one who could see her." When Pastor John was finished, he took a deep sigh. He looked like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders. I told him of my encounter with Martha and of the doll that I had brought to her. In a moment, he spoke. "God bless you Raymond!" We both were silent for a moment, perhaps lost in thought. Then, I asked him a question. "How can we guide Martha home to Jesus?"

As Pastor John walked over to the window, facing the cemetery, he paused. He looked deep in thought, searching for an answer. Then, he turned to me, his eyes a bit teary and spoke. "Martha, bless her spirit, has made you her friend. Something I have tried to do for a long time, and failed. Could you visit her now and then Raymond, maybe she will speak to you?" I nodded to him as I stood looking out the same window. "Children have always found a soft spot in my heart, Pastor John."

I looked into Pastor John's smile with a look of confusion. Pastor, I don't know what to say to Martha, or what passages to quote? He just smiled widely at me, placing his hand on my shoulder, as he spoke. "God's blessed you with a gift Raymond, with work left undone. Go to Martha, my friend, for God will show you he needs you to do." As I took in his words, I heard the distinctive sound. It was a VW bug, and his wife was pulling into the drive way. Pastor John beamed a smile, "my wife Amy is home, mum's the word!"

I looked at him, nodded, and laughed as we walked outside to meet her. When she saw him step out onto the church porch, I heard her say to Pastor John, "I thought you'd be finished painting"; as she laughed with playful eyes. "Hi Raymond. My you have made the Cemetery so nice, it's been needing care for a long time, and well; there's just so much to do for John. I hope John hasn't been preaching too much today, he loves the lord," she said with a warm smile.

"No mam, I answered, we've only been talking a short time, but I do need to go and get to my afternoon landscaping job," I told her. "But I'll be back tomorrow to do a little extra work." Pastor John's smile grew wide, as wide as mine, as I headed for my truck. His wife, looked first at her husband, then to me, wondering with that deer in the head lights look, what we might be up too.

I didn't sleep well that night, no, I tossed and turned. I kept thinking of that sad little girl. I was growing attached to her. What hope did I have of becoming close to her? Of talking to her? More important, would she or could she talk to me? What could I say to Martha that would ease her pain? Why hadn't she found the path, leading her back to Jesus' arms? So many questions came to mind, I just couldn't fall asleep. Pastor John left it up to me to guide her on her way. So I got out of bed, turned the light on, and wrote down my thoughts.

Like a candle's light glowing in the darkness of the night, suddenly I had an idea on how I might be able to help Martha. The morning's sunrise came all too soon for me. But I had an idea, a plan and hoped to see Martha again. Perhaps, she would allow me to see her, perhaps not. As I pulled out of my driveway, I stopped at the only jewelry shop in town. I browsed through gold chains of every size and price range which had a cross on them. I finally did settle on one I felt would fit her, one I hoped she'd like. I asked the jeweler if he did engraving, and he said yes.

I asked him what it would cost to engrave the name Martha on the back of the cross and when it might be ready? He told me, engraving with the purchase was free, and that it would be just a few minutes. When finished, I looked it over, and I smiled, it looked beautiful. On my way out of town, I stopped at McDonald's and had 2 sausage egg McMuffins without cheese, and a medium coke. I glanced down at the gold cross necklace, boxed, and wrapped in brightly colored balloon wrapping paper, and I felt so good. Fall was here, and the leaves on the road were gold, reddish brown and yellow.

When I arrived at the Longbranch cemetery, the sun shone brightly. As the leafs fell slowly to the ground, they were caught in the glint of sunlight, looking like angels descending from heaven. I sat next to Martha's headstone for hours, and I felt that she wasn't going to appear. Then, I heard the distinctive giggle of a small child, and I felt my own smile grow. The sound came from behind me and I turned my head around and saw Martha, smiling so bright a small, as she was waving her tiny hand hi!

My eyes shined and my smile grew wide when I saw Martha. She was hugging her doll tight and waving excitedly. It was if I were her dad, who she hadn't seen in a long time. She almost ran into my arms, but she stopped, and sat down near me. She was so close to me, I could have reached out and touched her. In every way, she looked just as if she were alive, an ordinary little girl. "I'm so glad you came to visit again," she giggled. She said with laughter as she looked down at her doll, "see, I told you he'd come back," and we both laughed. "I named her Becky, do you like her name?"

So, you gave her a name already, Martha, and her face was beaming with delight as she nodded her head! "Well, I think that's a fine name for a pretty doll," and she looked like the happiest girl I'd ever seen before! It was then, that her eyes spotted the small box, wrapped in pretty balloon wrapping, and then, she looked at me with curiousity. "Tell me, tell me, you brought me another present Raymond," and she could barely sit still when I said, "I sure did Martha." I couldn't hold back my tears of joy, as they rolled down my cheeks one after another. She looked at me with sad eyes, then to the present, and asked me, "why are you crying?"

As I wiped my eyes, and blinked, I told her; "it's hard to explain. But before we talk, little one, here, this is for you," and I placed the box on her lap. She eagerly pulled at the wrapping with small hands, and I laughed as colored paper was flying every where. Then she paused, as she held the long narrow box in her hands, hesitating. Then I said, "well, go ahead, open it up, peek inside," and she giggled as she pulled the top off. As the lid came off, tears filled her eyes as she whispered, "oh my, it's so pretty!" She held the necklace in her tiny hands and rubbed the cross, as I said, "go ahead, turn it over and see what is written?" With the curious innocence that makes kids a delight, she turned over the gold cross and held it close to her eyes as she spoke her name out loud!

In broken words, between tears, she tried to smile as she told me that she had been so lonely, for so long, and then, I brought her Becky, and now, this pretty necklace! Then suddenly, she climbed up into my my lap, so unexpectedly and hugged my neck tight, and said "thank you so much," and I cried too, telling her it was alright. And for that brief moment, I forgot that Martha was a spirit of a little girl.

It was the perfect time to say the perfect words, but I was an imperfect man, and I had no words to say to her. Instead of talking, I waited till Martha finished sharing a long missed hug. When she let go, I expected her to go back where she had sat, but she didn't. She stayed there in my lap, looking into my eyes, with such a warm innocent smile, that reminded me of Shirley Temple. Then, impatiently, she said, "well, aren't you gonna help me put it on?" I felt embarrassed, having not asked her first, and I said, "of course Martha, turn around for me," and she did. In a moment the clasp was hooked, and I felt her pull gently on the cross as she looked down at it.

She hugged me one more time, then she left my arms and sat down next to Becky and picked her up. Martha was showing Becky her necklace, as I began to speak. But before I began, I looked over at the church, I saw Pastor John looking at me, but he looked very different. Then, Pastor John moved away from the window, and I turned my attention back to Martha. I was tongue tied, searching for the right words, but realized there were no perfect, easy words to say what I wanted to say. “Martha, can I talk to you for a minute, it's real important?" She looked up from Becky, nodded, watching intently. As she fingered the cross, I began to speak.

You know why your momma and dad went away don't you Martha? Gone was the sparkle in Martha's deep blue eyes. All she did was nod at first. "Everyone was getting sick, and I was very sick, I remember." Everyone was leaving town, and I didn't want them to go away. I didn't want my dad and mom to leave me, and her voice, trembled, and she broke into tears. My heart was breaking as she crawled back into my arms, and I rocked her. "I have been waiting for them to come back and take me with them,” she said, and I felt warm tears soak my shirt as her head rest on my shoulder. When she quieted down, it was my turn to speak.

I'm glad you remember when you were very sick Martha, it was a time when many were sick. Many of them didn't get better, they died and were buried here. I waited a moment to let those words sink into Martha's thoughts. "Martha," I said, as my tears fell upon her, "the reason mom and dad haven't come back to take you with them, is because, because you couldn't get better, you died!" Then, I heard her softly say sadly, "I know," was all she said as she hugged me tighter. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes, there were no words she or I could find.

Then she looked up into my eyes and her expression was so heart wrenching, a plea to help her, and I didn't know anything I could do for her. I whispered, "Martha, why have you stayed behind? Didn't you see an angel, a light, a stairway someone to show you the way to heaven?” She just shook her head no. Can you help me Raymond? "Can you help me go to heaven?" All I could say to her was, "I'm so sorry hun, I don't know what to do." It was then, that I heard Pastor John's gentle voice, and we both looked up and saw him. There was a glow all around him, and I knew now what happened at the window. He had a heart attack, and had died.

"It's okay Martha, come take my hand, I know the way to heaven." There were tears in our eyes as she looked at Pastor John, then to me as she spoke. "I will miss you Raymond, very very much." As I cried, I told her I would miss her with all my heart. She climbed down, picked up Becky with one hand and took Pastor John's hand with her other hand. I waved to both of them, as they said good-bye, for the stairway to heaven had opened above them.

© 2002 Raymond Cook (All rights reserved)
 


Analysis of Plot

In Raymond Cook’s short story “Why Have You Stayed Behind?”, the story begins with an exposition. Exposition is the beginning of the story where the characters and the setting are revealed. Paragraph 1 tells about the setting of time which is Sunday morning, and setting of place which is Longbranch Cemetery: Every Sunday morning just past 9am, I'd arrive at the Longbranch Cemetery to mow the grounds. This morning though I would discover would be very different. That sentence also tells the characterization of the main character as someone who is hired to mow the grass in the cemetery. It is also mentioned the characterization of the supporting character, Martha: Her name was Martha, and she died on May 17, 1900 of small pox, a deadly disease back then. (paragraph 1), and She had beautiful long wavy blonde hair, and looked about seven years old. She wore a dress like the ones I saw on Little House On The Prairie TV series. (paragraph 2).

Then, it comes the rising actions. This is where the events in the story become complicated: …she touched her headstone and vanished. (paragraph 3). The raising action is also mentioned in other paragraph: I had almost reached my truck, when suddenly, I heard the sound of a child giggling. I turned quickly around and watched as Martha hugged her doll! (paragraph 7).

The story is interspersed by the foreshadowing. Foreshadowing is the use of clues or hints or warnings to suggest events that will occur later in the plot. The first clue comes up when the main character, Raymond, realizes that Martha is a linger spirit: She must be lost! She doesn't know what to do or where to go since she died. (paragraph 3). The clue is also mentioned on paragraph 4: Maybe she is waiting for her parents to come and take her home with them? The other clue is mention on the dialog between Raymond and Pastor John: “Could you visit her now and then Raymond, maybe she will speak to you?” … "Children have always found a soft spot in my heart, Pastor John." (paragraph 13). Also, there is a clue on paragraph 14: "God's blessed you with a gift Raymond, with work left undone. Go to Martha, my friend, for God will show you he needs you to do."

In this story, there are internal conflicts. The conflicts happen because Raymond has a struggle within himself about Martha. He must make some decision about what he has to do about Martha’s spirit. The first conflict comes up when he sees Martha for the first time. He wants to help but he feels he can not: I was over come with a feeling of helplessness for her. (paragraph 2) and I wish, I wish, I wish, I cried, I wish I could have held her, and tried to comfort her. I wanted to show her she wasn't alone. (paragraph 4). The next conflict is when Raymond feels confuse about telling Pastor John about Martha: I felt very nervous about trying to find a way to explain to the Pastor what I had seen in his cemetery. But I was equally nervous about what his response would be! Would he even believe me? (paragraph 8). Raymond’s question to Pastor John is the key of the conflict: "How can we guide Martha home to Jesus?" (paragraph 12). Raymond is so confuse that he even can only ask question without saying it: Pastor, I don't know what to say to Martha, or what passages to quote? (paragraph 14).

The internal conflict is also happened within Pastor John. He feels powerless of Martha’s lingering: “...I have tried to speak to her, I have prayed for her. Still she lingers in our cemetery, and my spirit has suffered." (paragraph 11). His decision of not telling his wife about Martha also becomes Pastor John’s internal conflict: "I haven't told my wife about Martha, nor anyone else. I was beginning to think that I was the only one who could see her." (paragraph 12).

After coming home, Raymond still thinks about what he has to do about Martha’s spirit, which he still has conflict within himself: I didn't sleep well that night, no, I tossed and turned. I kept thinking of that sad little girl. I was growing attached to her. What hope did I have of becoming close to her? Of talking to her? More important, would she or could she talk to me? What could I say to Martha that would ease her pain? Why hadn't she found the path, leading her back to Jesus' arms? So many questions came to mind, I just couldn't fall asleep. (paragraph 17)

The meeting and whole conversation with Martha is also a struggle for Raymond. He tries to find the perfect way to tell that Martha is actually dead: And for that brief moment, I forgot that Martha was a spirit of a little girl. (paragraph 24). On paragraph 25, there is a conflict between Raymond and the circumstance: It was the perfect time to say the perfect words, but I was an imperfect man, and I had no words to say to her. Instead of talking, I waited till Martha finished sharing a long missed hug. When she let go, I expected her to go back where she had sat, but she didn't. She stayed there in my lap, looking into my eyes, with such a warm innocent smile, that reminded me of Shirley Temple. And the conflict still happens: I was tongue tied, searching for the right words, but realized there were no perfect, easy words to say what I wanted to say. (paragraph 26)

Before the story reaches the climax, there is a foreshadowing that gives a warning about the condition of Pastor John: But before I began, I looked over at the church, I saw Pastor John looking at me, but he looked very different. (paragraph 26)

Climax is the highest point of interest of the story. The climax of this story is when Raymond reveals who Martha really is: "Martha," I said, as my tears fell upon her, "the reason mom and dad haven't come back to take you with them, is because, because you couldn't get better, you died!" (paragraph 28).

The falling action happens when Martha says that she knows she is dead. Falling action comes up when the events or complications begin to resolve themselves: Then, I heard her softly say sadly, "I know," was all she said as she hugged me tighter. (paragraph 28).

However, before the resolution comes up, there is a foreshadowing: There was a glow all around him, and I knew now what happened at the window. (paragraph 29). That sentence becomes a clue that Pastor John dies.

Finally, the story is ended with a resolution or denouement: I waved to both of them, as they said good-bye, for the stairway to heaven had opened above them. (paragraph 30) as the final event of the story.

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Kate Chopin’s The Story of an Hour: Analysis of Style and Tone

STYLE 

Paragraph

The Story of an Hour has short paragraphs. Each paragraph only contains not more than five sentences. The longest paragraph is paragraph eleven which has five sentences: When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: “free, free, free!” The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.

Dictions

· Chopin chose formal words: It was he who had been in newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard’s name leading the list of “killed”. (paragraph 2)

· The words mainly denotative or containing exact meanings and concrete (specific): There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. (paragraph 4)

· The words are euphonious (pleasant sounding): The delicious breath of rain was in the air. (paragraph 5)

Sentences Structure

Most of the sentences are complex sentences: When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. (paragraph 3)

However, there are simple and compound sentences as well, but not many: They stayed keen and bright. (simple sentence, paragraph 11); Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body. (compound sentence, paragraph 11)

Symbolisms

· It is said that Mrs. Mallard has a heart trouble: Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death. (paragraph 1). Heart can be the real heart, but heart also symbolizes love. Mrs. Mallard may have no heart disease, but she may have love problem which is problem in her marriage life. On the last paragraph: When the doctor came they said she had died of heart disease­—of joy that kills. It means that she is not killed by heart attack, but her love kills her.

· She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. (paragraph 5) The new spring life does not always mean that the setting of the story is on the spring season. The new spring life may symbolize Mrs. Mallard’s new happier life after her husband’s death.

Treatment of Subject Matter

Chopin has been objective. He makes the main character (Mrs. Mallard) die at the end of the story. His conclusion is based on fact that Mrs. Mallard has trouble with her heart. It is something impersonal: But Richard was too late. (paragraph 22)

Figures of Speech

· Alliteration: repetition of an initial consonant sound.

She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister’s arms. (paragraph 3)

She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. (paragraph 5)

The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. (paragraph 5)

But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air. (paragraph 9)

She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will—as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. (paragraph 10)

Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts days that would be her own. (paragraph 19)

· Irony: saying the opposite of what is meant, or verbal irony.

Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death.

· Metaphor: An implied comparison between two unlike things that actually have something important in common.

When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. (paragraph 3)

The delicious breath of rain was in the air. (paragraph 5)

· Oxymoron: Combining contradictory words to reveal a truth.

She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. (paragraph 12)

· Paradox: A statement that appears to contradict itself.
It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. (paragraph 2)

When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease—of joy that kills. (paragraph 23)

· Personification: Giving humanlike qualities or human form to objects and abstractions.

Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul. (paragraph 4)

She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. (paragraph 5)

The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. (paragraph 5)

There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window. (paragraph 6)

She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will—as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. (paragraph 10)

· Simile: Comparing one thing to an unlike thing by using like, as, or than.

She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams. (paragraph 7)

There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. (paragraph 20)

TONE

The tone of The Story of an Hour is ironic. People around Mrs. Mallard think that she is very sad of her husband’s death. After her sister, Josephine, tells her about her husband’s death, she locks herself alone in her room staring out the window. Josephine thinks that her sister’s crying out because of the deep grief of losing her husband. However, the fact is that she cries out for being relieved. She feels free. She is happy for her freedom. At the end of the story, her husband who supposed to be dead comes home safe, not dead. And the one who is dead is Mrs. Mallard, killed by the joy.

The Story of an hour is also dramatic. The moment when Mrs. Mallard lock herself alone in her room is described dramatically. The situation when she is staring out the window, feeling the atmosphere of freedom, and crying for new life are described in brilliant way. Chopin wanted the readers to feel what Mrs. Mallard is experiencing when she is alone in her room. Chopin chose beautiful words to touch the reader to feel the drama of the irony of love. When Mrs. Mallard says, “free, free, free!” (paragraph 11) and “free! Body and soul free!” (paragraph 16), she throws away all of her sadness, burdens, and the tortures of her marriage life. She releases all of her pains.

It is quite hard to understand the story on the first reading. If it is only read once, sadness and shocked are the only things readers can get. Chopin wrote this story with mysteries which are not easy to be analyzed. The first name of the main character, Mrs. Mallard, is not mentioned on early paragraphs but on paragraph 17: Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhole, imploring for admission. “Louise, open the door! I beg, open the door—you will make yourself ill. What are you doing Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door.” So the name of Mrs. Mallard is Louise. Chopin kept the name mystery until paragraph 17 to make readers emphasize her characteristic as a weak housewife and the exciting moment when she is alone in her room. And the biggest mystery of this story is what exactly kills Mrs. Mallard. It is still cannot be solved what kills Mrs. Mallard, whether she gets heart attack after seeing Mr. Mallard alive or her relief of all of her feelings and love.

Chopin had his great job in writing The Story of an Hour. It has a good unexpected plot which needs deep understanding. Chopin has been able to make the readers keep questioning. It means that The Story of an Hour is not only a great short story, but Chopin is also a smart author.

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Flowers for Algernon

Flowers for Algernon is a science fiction novel written by Daniel Keyes. It was published in 1966 and won Nebula Award for Best Novel.

Algernon is a laboratory mouse who had a surgery to increase his intelligence by artificial means. The story is told as a series of progress reports written by Charlie Gordon, the first human test subject for the surgery, and touches upon many different ethical and moral themes such as the treatment of the mentally disabled.

Charlie Gordon is a 32 year old man with an IQ of 68 who works as a janitor and deliveryman for Donner's Bakery. His uncle made him work there for 17 years that Charlie would not have to be sent to an institution, the Warren State Home. Wanting to improve himself, Charlie attends reading and writing classes at the Beekman College Center for Retarded Adults. He has an attractive young teacher there, Alice Kinnian.

Professor Nemur and Doctor Strauss, two Beekman researchers, are looking for a human subject on whom they can test an experimental surgical technique for increasing intelligence. They have already performed the surgery on a mouse named Algernon, leading to a dramatic improvement in his mental performance. Based on Alice's recommendation and his own motivation to learn, Charlie is picked to be their experiment subject and submit him to surgery.

The procedure is a success and three months later, Charlie's IQ has reached to 185. However, as his intelligence, education, and understanding of the world around him increases, his relationships with people decreases. His co-workers at the bakery are scared of his increased intelligence, and finally he’s fired from his job.

Charlie gets smarter and smarter. He reads many books and journals in many languages, even he has never learnt any foreign languages. He’s very genius. Scientists hate him, because he’s smarter than them. Even his beloved teacher, Alice, walks away from him. Although Charlie is a genius man, deep inside he’s still the same innocent Charlie like he was. He knows everything in this world, but he doesn’t even know anything about life, relationship, friendship, love and to be loved, or even how to cry. So, Charlie is a genius lonely man.

Since Charlie is very genius, he discovers a flaw in the theories of intelligence enhancing he has done. Algernon starts behaving irregularly, loses his intelligence, and dies. Charlie does further researches, he determines that he will be in that condition too. So he tries to fix the broken relationships with his parents, his sister, his friends, and Alice. That’s because he knows that his intelligent will decrease, and slowly but sure he will die like what happened to Algernon. He doesn’t want to be alone when he dies.

Time goes by, and Charlie goes back to his former self. Finally, he decides to live at the Warren State Home, because he knows he will be a retarded man as he was. In the end of his reports, he asks someone to put flowers on Algernon's grave.

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