The Environment We reap what we sow. This is a concept that many people in history and literature have struggled with. In The Five-Forty-Eight by John Cheever, Blake, the main character, spends most of the story trying to run from a woman that he used to know. We do not know why in the beginning but we eventually come to find that he had treated her badly and now she has come back to make him own up to what he did.
Get Full Essay Get access to this section to get all help you need with your essay and educational issues. I was walking in the streets of Braseham minding my own business when I came to a white, plain house whose extravagantly decorated windows were open. His wife, well what can I say?
Words cannot describe how much I loathed her. Her face, her voice, her presence would drive anyone mad.
However, her husband was a different case. In this town, he was considered as a nobleman and the wisest of them all. Any brawl, he could end in peace and any problem, he could provide the solution. My thoughts were momentarily interrupted by his voice again emitting from the windows.
It was very soft yet it had charming tone to it. I nosily moved slightly towards the window to get a better view of what he was doing.
He was sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor, almost in a meditating position, and humbly reading from a book. I was curious as to what he was reading, so I listened carefully. He uttered these words: Likewise, if you do evil actions, you do evil to yourselves.
He is wrong, I thought and I wanted to prove him wrong. Since my mother always said, actions speak louder than words; I searched through my mind for a clever plan. And there it was the perfect idea. I immediately reached for the sweets from the bottom shelf and placed them on the kitchen table.
Then, I placed my hand into one of my pockets and took hold of a small bottle safely wrapped around a scarlet coloured cloth. I clutched the bottle tightly in my hands and pulled it out of my pocket.
Afterwards, I carefully unwrapped the fragile cloth and placed my other free hand on the lid and slowly unloosened it. Afterwards, I raised the bottle to my nose and sniffed the sweet smell of poison.
Turning around to face the table, I poured tiny droplets of the yellow liquid into the sweet Pears.
It was a short walk from my home and in minutes I arrived there and stood in front of it. The colour of the exterior of the house was as white as marble; his front porch had an array of wild flowers all in different colours shapes and sizes beautifully carpeting the mint-green earth.
I walked gracefully to the front door and knocked, then patiently stood waiting for an answer. He was surprised to see me and gestured to welcome me in, but I shyly refused and told him that I came here only to deliver the sweets that I prepared this morning.
He reached for the plate and I placed it on his hands. He thanked me for my kind gift and promised to return the favour. I warily smiled at him and bid him farewell, my task completed I turned around and returned home. In the afternoon as the soft ray of the golden yellow sun oozed across the turquoise sky, I proceeded, as usual to the busy market for my daily grocery shopping awaiting the spectacular awakening of this busy hive.
Walking into the vintage cobbled streets of Sangria Market feels like a public library of sights and smells brought to life by its buzzing activity. I could hear the welcoming voices of the shopkeepers inviting customers into their colourful interiors and filling the streets with the exuberance of life.
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REAPING WHAT WE SOW! Life’s measure of one’s experiences and blessings does not count to the mere fact of receiving it but, in the way how you have put on it or work hard on it.
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