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Kirby here.
I just helped my sister with her homework.
It's amazing. It's a parody of The Scarlet Letter, sort of a short story. Here:
Death March
Only an hour had passed since the horrible deed occurred. So suddenly, the act that had started as an idea and grew into a burning desire, had been done. Nathaniel was now faced with what to do. He had come, acted, and left himself with the inevitable action of metaphorically taking out the trash of the dead body that lay before him. He slowly and carefully wrapped up the corpse with black cloth--a crude semblance of the modern day trash bag. It seemed a strange package, waiting patiently to be delivered. His painful ignominy seemed to show through his stare as he looked in the mirror at the man he had become. He had not meant to go this far, no, but he had no choice as he was left alone for so long, letting his emotions build up with every hateful glance and every hour left in solitude. The more isolated he became, the more people forgot about him, he in his little house basked in darkness, he who had been disfigured at birth, he who had never been given a chance to be accepted. The town outcast knew what he had to do. He gathered up his black symbol of his hatred for the small Puritan town surrounding him and began to carry it out the door. Leather gloves adorned his hands, black, heavy with sin, and hiding the red skin that refused to wash clean…bloodstains, a mark of his unbearable sin. This blood on his hands was the symbol of the heinous crime he had just an hour before committed, spilling the blood of a wandering priest who made the mistake of insulting the man one last time until he was pushed over the edge. He traced the edge
of the woods in an attempt to escape the daylight that was still left, the light that forever mocked his existence. As he finally entered the safety of the wood’s infinite darkness, he paused to rest the load against a moss-covered tree, leaning against it himself. He felt his guilt be relieved as he was immersed in the cool dimness of the willow trees and the quick trickle of the river. He let out a long sigh, contemplating what his next move would be. The heavy iron burden in his chest felt akin to Judas’ mass remorse for betraying the Messiah. And though that was over a thousand years ago, beyond living memory, to his guilt-ridden mind, the immortal pain had not changed at all. He entered the river up to his waist, slowly pulling the body in inch by inch. It seemed a funny thing that now, after judging another man’s life unworthy to continue, his own should end now. He cautiously tested the running river water by lowering his head deeper and deeper. Absolutely no thoughts of raising it again came to mind. The dead body floated away, half-sinking in the mild current, the heavy burden gone forever. Completely submerged underwater, he opened his eyes, bringing his hands to his face. The water pulled him back, tugging at his arms as he tugged the black gloves off. His red palms shined from beneath the cold, clear water as he let out one last groan of remorse and self- hatred. He would finally be free of his burden, he would finally be given mercy, he would finally be at one with nature. Feeling the water fill up through his lungs, instead of constricting him, Nathaniel felt as if he was releasing the inner pain he had forever held inside, the hatred, the shame, and the bitterness he had forever stowed away to build up and ruminate in his soul, making a terrible mark on his heart. With one last blink, he finally took out the trash.
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