For this assignment, you will write a creative response to any short story we have studied so far. Think of it as a creative re-imagining of the story in which you engage with some aspect of the work, be it formal, moral, social, psychological, or historical, in order to reflect on the meaning of the original even as you make new art spring from it. (500+ words)
Here are few ideas, but it's completely okay to come up with an idea of your own, too:
You might imagine rewriting a scene from the perspective of a minor or marginal character to see how that might change the story. You could try crafting a prequel or sequel response to the events of the fiction. You could imagine writing a "lost" letter from one character to another. You could change the setting, either shifting the location to a different geography or even a different time period.And Satan Was a Woman
If we thought that Mrs. Emily's death two years ago was the end of the story, and in many ways for her it was, we were mistaken. For our town, it was the beginning of public speculation, innuendoes, and something so sinister, it was unbelievable. Gossip, once spoken between neighbors, "Poor, Miss Emily," became sensationalized headlines of horror. If only the truth had been known from the beginning. Details, hidden by veiled curtains, came to light the day council members broke down the door of Miss Emily's upstairs bedroom. Criminal, scientific, and psychiatric hypothesis became the town's mascot, a national spotlight shined upon us and burned us to the quick. Old men who had worn uniforms, reminiscing about their courting days, shook their heads in disbelief.
"It's not true, we were there—We should know!" they exclaimed.
It was no wonder the old negro that worked for Miss Emily had walked out the back door as if a fire had been set under his feet. If what he had seen, for all those years, going in and out of that house was half what the media portrayed, then Satan was a woman. Her name was Miss Emily Grierson and not the angelic resemblance of a cherub that many had claimed.
"Hear, Yee! Hear, Yee! Read all about it!" the paper boys shout. "New Evidence proves death was murder!" First, there was confusion, then disbelief, and finally horror among those who read the paper.
A sense of resignation, over the discovery of Homer Barron's remains, filled the community and the fact that he had been murdered was not all too surprising—when you listened to the gossips.
If truth be told, what had the town a buzz was the murder that happened almost sixty years earlier. It seemed as if science had proven what no one even suspected. Miss Elizabeth Wyatt's death was a case of Arsenic poisoning. Miss Emily was just shy of her 15th birthday. At the time, it had been determined Miss Wyatt's death was a result of a careless fall where she had bumped her head as she stepped off her porch and greeted one of her cousins.
The exhumation of Mr. Greirson horrified the town of Aldermen when the results confirmed the second death associated with the Grierson family—Arsenic poisoning. Gossip spread like wildfire. Old men shook their heads, and old women whispered behind their hands. It was for the men's sake who had sought Miss Emily's affections that her father chased them off, not to rob her of her womanhood. They had always wondered how a man as robust as he died from a little sip of the bottle. By the time that Homer Barron's murder by the same means was acknowledged, the community was numb. No longer was there doubt that Miss Emily had poisoned him. The unforeseen declaration was how long Miss Emily's lover had been kept as a prisoner. Some hypothesis that it could be as long as ten years.
The true tragedy of these crimes is not the deaths themselves, but that for all the times the inhabitance of Alderman looked the other way, whispering behind their hands or closed doors, "poor, Miss Emily," they failed to see the truth of the situation, and take action against hell itself. The blood of those murdered was a stain in the palms of those that whispered, "Poor Miss Emily."
This one got me an A!
