Unformatted text preview: great grassy place that lay ahead, and a beautiful oak, immense in size and leaning tragically on its long arms as if reaching out to the woods beyond in a futile effort to join with it. The oak broke her heart suddenly, its giant knuckled branches, its great sweeps of dark moss, and in the soft glowing starry night, the sky was so bright behind it. It's beautiful, please, Emaleth. Emaleth, if I die, go to Michael. Once again, she registered the vision of Michael's face, the numbers of the house, numbers of the phone-data for the tiny mind inside her, which knew what she knew. Mother, I cannot be born if you die. Mother, I need you. I need Father. The tree was so distinct, massive and graceful. Some lovely vision came to her of the forests of olden times when trees like this must have been the temples. She saw a green field, hills covered with forest. Donnelaith, Mother. Father said I was to go to Donnelaith, that we were to meet there. "No, darling," she said aloud, reaching out for the trunk o...
View Full Document
This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10