Borovnia's Argumentative Essay
Statement of intent:
This is a third POV story, set when Juliet was sent away from England to the Bahamas "for the good of her health". As Juliet was disconnected due to her separation from her family, I used few emotions coming from her, herself. I used her obsession with the "king and queen" book as a subtle reference to Borovnia. I made the child, Richard, five years old because Juliet has a personality younger than her age, and she ends up copying Richard. With this piece I was portraying the origins of Juliet's melodramatic personality. Juliet thinking she had scars was a good thing was also started here by Mary's "pushover" personality.
December, 1946.
Hot. Humid. Heavy. The air weighted down the small frail girl, far away from her …show more content…
English home. Palm trees stood tall and silent, like the two strangers that held her hands. Their unfamiliar faces made the sickly eight year old restless, despite the fact that they were her caregivers for the next thirteen months. The boat trip to the Bahamas seemed like a long distant memory, despite her stepping off the boat mere minutes ago. Even though she spent the entire time on the boat trying to understand why she was here, she still didn't get it. Familiar questions surfaced in her mind.
Whose are these people? Why are mummy and daddy making me be with them?
What is pneumonia? Why did it make mummy and daddy send me here?
I want to go home, why can’t I be in England?
She had many more, but they all boiled down to “Why?”. Yet she already knew the answer.
“Juliet, I hope you like it here, I know you miss home, but it’s for the good of your health.”
The female stranger smiled down at the little girl, an attempt at a comforting look was plastered on her face. Juliet started back with eyes void of tears, even though the urge to cry washed over her. She had no tears left, as she had spent the entire boat trip with streams decorating her pale cheeks.
It’s for the good of your health.
It was the last sentence Juliet’s mother said to her before she ushered her on to the boat that took her to the Bahamas, that took her away from home, her mummy, her daddy. The reason why they sent her to this place, where even the trees weren’t friendly and bushy, but made of thin leaves that reminded her of knives, ready to fall and cut her down. The reason that she had to stay with these strangers, these people that she didn’t know, these people that didn’t know her, ‘For the good of her health.’
Her thought process was brought to a halt when the trio reached their destination, a small cosy house. The male stranger fished a key out of his pocket before unlocking the door and swinging it open, revealing a relaxed standard home, yet Juliet could only think of it as a cage.
January, 1947.
The soft squeak of the door alerted Juliet to Mary’s presence. Mary was her female caregiver, her male caregiver was Robert but he never spent any time with Juliet and even though Mary came into her room frequently, most of her bedridden time was spent alone. In Mary’s hand sat three new books, bedtime stories, each one illustrated with vibrant colours, she spread them out on the bed.
“Which would you like to read tonight?”
Juliet scanned the covers, one had a friendly teddy bear, with a bright green background and although it attracted her eye, it did not attract her interest. The second one was red, with two children smiling on the cover, yet Juliet barely acknowledged it as she was focused on the final book, that had a black cover with a king and queen in the centre. Mary picked up on Juliet’s fixation and brandished the book above her head melodramatically.
“This one then?!”
Juliet gave a small nod, hiding her smile under the sheets, yet despite her best efforts Mary noticed her concealed grin and returned it two-fold. Mary prided herself in her ability to make the shy and quiet child show any positive emotion. Still smiling, she opened the book with a flourish and began the story about a king and queen in a medieval land.
February 1947.
Richard, Mary and Robert’s five year old son, marched around the house, for today he had decided that he was the King and their home was his kingdom. He had to defend the land from the evil giants! Robert wield a stick for a sword he charged at the large threats yelling his battle cry, yet the male one dodged out of sight. Richard focused his attack on the remaining female giant. Suddenly, the male one came out of nowhere, scooping him up. The trio dissolved into laughter, with Richard over dramatically ‘dying’ in Robert’s arms. Mary giggled, a fond look was in her eyes.
Amongst all the noise, Juliet sat on the couch, a worn black book, with a King and Queen on the cover, sat in her hands. She was overlooking the family, watching the boy and his melodramatic tendencies receive more attention than she had ever gotten in her life.
June 1947.
Although Mary was happy that Juliet had finally come out of her shell and that she had recovered enough to be able to wander around, it was becoming tiring. At times she wished Juliet would go back to her quiet reserved attitude. This was one of those times. A high pitched wail came from the garden, so loud that it was bordering on a scream, carrying so much urgency, Mary stubbed her toe hurrying through the house to get there. When she arrived at the scene, all that could be seen was Juliet, bawling her eyes out. Not a scratch on her body, with barely any dirt on her knees. Despite her lack of injuries, Juliet made grabby hands towards Mary, who reluctantly picked her up. Juliet’s arms immediately latched onto her, clinging to her frame.
November 1947.
It was Juliet’s birthday and for her present, Mary took her to town for a day trip. As Juliet tugged Mary down the street, a man caught her eye. Across his forearm he had a large white jagged scar. Juliet pointed at him.
“What’s on his arm?”
Mary rushed to pull down Juliet’s pointing finger and hurriedly apologised to the man.
“It’s called a scar, Juliet, it’s what happens when someone gets injured badly.”
“Does that mean my lungs have scars?”
Taken aback, Mary hesitantly replied, “I guess so.”
“Does everyone else have scars on their lungs?"
"No, they don't."
Juliet stared forward, deep in thought.
"Does that make me special?"
Mary bit her lip, she was contemplating whether she should tell Juliet that having scarred lungs wasn't a good thing, before she reminded herself that Juliet was only a child. Therefore she should not shoot her down.
"Sure, Juliet."
A bright smile lit up the nine year old's face, she started to bounce, excited, because she was special.
December 1947.
A smile graced Mary's face as she listened to Juliet's story. Her story featured grand kings and queens, princes and princesses, knights in shining armour, not unlike the faded, well read black book. Mary found it amusing at how obsessed the young girl was, the two other books Mary had bought at the same time remained untouched. When Juliet finished her story with an over excited flourish, Mary sung her praises. Mary smiled as she scooped Juliet into her arms and Juliet returned it two-fold, giggling. Juliet was so happy, she was finally getting the attention she needed. For the first time in the last year, she didn’t feel lonely.
January
1948.
Juliet stood at the port where had she arrived thirteen months ago. An odd feeling settled into her stomach, although she was excited at the prospect of seeing her parents, the attention she received here was all she wanted.
An idea popped into her head.
They gave her attention here when she was over dramatic, why would her parents be any different?
This is a third POV story, set when Juliet was sent away from England to the Bahamas "for the good of her health". As Juliet was disconnected due to her separation from her family, I used few emotions coming from her, herself. I used her obsession with the "king and queen" book as a subtle reference to Borovnia. I made the child, Richard, five years old because Juliet has a personality younger than her age, and she ends up copying Richard. With this piece I was portraying the origins of Juliet's melodramatic personality. Juliet thinking she had scars was a good thing was also started here by Mary's "pushover" personality.
December, 1946.
Hot. Humid. Heavy. The air weighted down the small frail girl, far away from her …show more content…
English home. Palm trees stood tall and silent, like the two strangers that held her hands. Their unfamiliar faces made the sickly eight year old restless, despite the fact that they were her caregivers for the next thirteen months. The boat trip to the Bahamas seemed like a long distant memory, despite her stepping off the boat mere minutes ago. Even though she spent the entire time on the boat trying to understand why she was here, she still didn't get it. Familiar questions surfaced in her mind.
Whose are these people? Why are mummy and daddy making me be with them?
What is pneumonia? Why did it make mummy and daddy send me here?
I want to go home, why can’t I be in England?
She had many more, but they all boiled down to “Why?”. Yet she already knew the answer.
“Juliet, I hope you like it here, I know you miss home, but it’s for the good of your health.”
The female stranger smiled down at the little girl, an attempt at a comforting look was plastered on her face. Juliet started back with eyes void of tears, even though the urge to cry washed over her. She had no tears left, as she had spent the entire boat trip with streams decorating her pale cheeks.
It’s for the good of your health.
It was the last sentence Juliet’s mother said to her before she ushered her on to the boat that took her to the Bahamas, that took her away from home, her mummy, her daddy. The reason why they sent her to this place, where even the trees weren’t friendly and bushy, but made of thin leaves that reminded her of knives, ready to fall and cut her down. The reason that she had to stay with these strangers, these people that she didn’t know, these people that didn’t know her, ‘For the good of her health.’
Her thought process was brought to a halt when the trio reached their destination, a small cosy house. The male stranger fished a key out of his pocket before unlocking the door and swinging it open, revealing a relaxed standard home, yet Juliet could only think of it as a cage.
January, 1947.
The soft squeak of the door alerted Juliet to Mary’s presence. Mary was her female caregiver, her male caregiver was Robert but he never spent any time with Juliet and even though Mary came into her room frequently, most of her bedridden time was spent alone. In Mary’s hand sat three new books, bedtime stories, each one illustrated with vibrant colours, she spread them out on the bed.
“Which would you like to read tonight?”
Juliet scanned the covers, one had a friendly teddy bear, with a bright green background and although it attracted her eye, it did not attract her interest. The second one was red, with two children smiling on the cover, yet Juliet barely acknowledged it as she was focused on the final book, that had a black cover with a king and queen in the centre. Mary picked up on Juliet’s fixation and brandished the book above her head melodramatically.
“This one then?!”
Juliet gave a small nod, hiding her smile under the sheets, yet despite her best efforts Mary noticed her concealed grin and returned it two-fold. Mary prided herself in her ability to make the shy and quiet child show any positive emotion. Still smiling, she opened the book with a flourish and began the story about a king and queen in a medieval land.
February 1947.
Richard, Mary and Robert’s five year old son, marched around the house, for today he had decided that he was the King and their home was his kingdom. He had to defend the land from the evil giants! Robert wield a stick for a sword he charged at the large threats yelling his battle cry, yet the male one dodged out of sight. Richard focused his attack on the remaining female giant. Suddenly, the male one came out of nowhere, scooping him up. The trio dissolved into laughter, with Richard over dramatically ‘dying’ in Robert’s arms. Mary giggled, a fond look was in her eyes.
Amongst all the noise, Juliet sat on the couch, a worn black book, with a King and Queen on the cover, sat in her hands. She was overlooking the family, watching the boy and his melodramatic tendencies receive more attention than she had ever gotten in her life.
June 1947.
Although Mary was happy that Juliet had finally come out of her shell and that she had recovered enough to be able to wander around, it was becoming tiring. At times she wished Juliet would go back to her quiet reserved attitude. This was one of those times. A high pitched wail came from the garden, so loud that it was bordering on a scream, carrying so much urgency, Mary stubbed her toe hurrying through the house to get there. When she arrived at the scene, all that could be seen was Juliet, bawling her eyes out. Not a scratch on her body, with barely any dirt on her knees. Despite her lack of injuries, Juliet made grabby hands towards Mary, who reluctantly picked her up. Juliet’s arms immediately latched onto her, clinging to her frame.
November 1947.
It was Juliet’s birthday and for her present, Mary took her to town for a day trip. As Juliet tugged Mary down the street, a man caught her eye. Across his forearm he had a large white jagged scar. Juliet pointed at him.
“What’s on his arm?”
Mary rushed to pull down Juliet’s pointing finger and hurriedly apologised to the man.
“It’s called a scar, Juliet, it’s what happens when someone gets injured badly.”
“Does that mean my lungs have scars?”
Taken aback, Mary hesitantly replied, “I guess so.”
“Does everyone else have scars on their lungs?"
"No, they don't."
Juliet stared forward, deep in thought.
"Does that make me special?"
Mary bit her lip, she was contemplating whether she should tell Juliet that having scarred lungs wasn't a good thing, before she reminded herself that Juliet was only a child. Therefore she should not shoot her down.
"Sure, Juliet."
A bright smile lit up the nine year old's face, she started to bounce, excited, because she was special.
December 1947.
A smile graced Mary's face as she listened to Juliet's story. Her story featured grand kings and queens, princes and princesses, knights in shining armour, not unlike the faded, well read black book. Mary found it amusing at how obsessed the young girl was, the two other books Mary had bought at the same time remained untouched. When Juliet finished her story with an over excited flourish, Mary sung her praises. Mary smiled as she scooped Juliet into her arms and Juliet returned it two-fold, giggling. Juliet was so happy, she was finally getting the attention she needed. For the first time in the last year, she didn’t feel lonely.
January
1948.
Juliet stood at the port where had she arrived thirteen months ago. An odd feeling settled into her stomach, although she was excited at the prospect of seeing her parents, the attention she received here was all she wanted.
An idea popped into her head.
They gave her attention here when she was over dramatic, why would her parents be any different?