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Check Up: December 10, 2006

This week from December 3 to December 9, 2006 I have written approximately 4,120 words on Magic Pens (not including the original peice of The Lady or the Tiger which I just copy and pasted.) I also wrote about 4,000 words not on Magic Pens (roleplays) for a complete total of 8,120 words. For reading, I didn’t do as well, (I never do,) as I read one chapter of The Little White Horse written by Elizabeth Goudge and I read The Lady or the Tiger written by Frank R. Stockton about three times.

Oh, I forgot! I also read The Adventures of the Speckled Band written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

The Lady or the Tiger: My Ending

For English class, we were assigned to read the short story, The Lady or the Tiger written by Frank R. Stockton, which is an open-ended story. We were assigned to write our own ending, so here is mine. I tried to write it the way that the original author did. The italicized words make up the original piece written by Frank R. Stockton.

In the very olden time there lived a semi-barbaric king, whose ideas, though somewhat polished and sharpened by the progressiveness of distant Latin neighbors, were still large, florid, and untrammeled, as became the half of him which was barbaric. He was a man of exuberant fancy, and, withal, of an authority so irresistible that, at his will, he turned his varied fancies into facts. He was greatly given to self-communing, and, when he and himself agreed upon anything, the thing was done. When every member of his domestic and political systems moved smoothly in its appointed course, his nature was bland and genial; but, whenever there was a little hitch, and some of his orbs got out of their orbits, he was blander and more genial still, for nothing pleased him so much as to make the crooked straight and crush down uneven places.Among the borrowed notions by which his barbarism had become semified was that of the public arena, in which, by exhibitions of manly and beastly valor, the minds of his subjects were refined and cultured.But even here the exuberant and barbaric fancy asserted itself. The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to enable them to view the inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of the people. This vast amphitheater, with its encircling galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic justice, in which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance.

When a subject was accused of a crime of sufficient importance to interest the king, public notice was given that on an appointed day the fate of the accused person would be decided in the king’s arena, a structure which well deserved its name, for, although its form and plan were borrowed from afar, its purpose emanated solely from the brain of this man, who, every barleycorn a king, knew no tradition to which he owed more allegiance than pleased his fancy, and who ingrafted on every adopted form of human thought and action the rich growth of his barbaric idealism.

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