Usher of the D'Urbervilles - Fairytale

Based on Tess of the D'Urbervilles, by Thomas Hardy.

There lived a young man in the isle of Orkney, who came from a poor family of fish-mongerers, who, although he lived in dire poverty, was wealthy in compassion, and every day his parents would send him to the sea to fish. The boy bore the name of Usher, and he possessed so much deep love and awe for nature that, every time he caught fish, he could not bear to kill them, and his father beat him severely for it. “You stupid boy!” his father would shout as he laid the stick into his son’s back, “If you don’t kill the fish, we will all starve, and so will you!”

So Usher, after nearly a year of beatings day in and day out, began to harden his heart, and grew to hate his father, as well as his mother, as she did nothing to help him, but rather sat and sighed heavily in time with the screams of her son and the descending of the stick on his bloody flesh. With each new stinging weal and scar reopened, the bitterness of Usher grew, but despite his prays for an end to his suffering, matters only grew worse: the gentleman landlord, in debt, demanded that Usher and his family pay increased rent, or be driven from the land.

One day, when he was out on the shore, in anger and anguish, he cried out, “I wish that I should become a gentleman, rich and with a beautiful wife, so that I shall never have to suffer again!”

As if in answer to his prayers, as he passed by a rock, Usher saw a lovely woman sun-bathing nearby all alone, naked and seemingly unaware of Usher’s presence, and the youth also noticed a seal-skin lying near his feet by chance. At once Usher realized that the sealskin must belong to the woman, and that she was a selkie, a seal in the water, but a woman on land, and viewing the lovely young maiden, lust overcame him.

“Here is my chance!” he said to himself, “Soon she shall return to the sea, so I haven’t much time. I must steal her skin, so that I might get a beautiful wife. No other woman would marry me, for I am too poor, and ugly with all these scars.”

So Usher took the seal-skin, and no sooner had he snatched up the skin, then the selkie gave a shriek of surprise and fright, and in an instant she had come upon him, and said with a wail, “Please, kind sir, return my sealskin! Without it, I cannot return to my home, the sea!” But Usher replied, “No, I shan’t. If you want your sealskin back, you will marry me and become my wife.”

“Kind sir,” the selkie pleaded, “I have come because of you. Your sorrow and grief drew me to the shores, and the fish have whispered to me of your great compassion, and your suffering because of it. If you will only return my sealskin, I shall guarantee you shall live a long life, grow in riches, and a son and heir who will make you name legendary.”

“Bah!” Usher snorted, “I do not believe you. How could that possibly come true? I am a poor and ugly fish-mongerer, and no woman would marry me, let alone bear me a child. No, I shall keep your sealskin, and I will have you for my wife.”

“Very well!” the selkie cried, “Because you have been kind to my brethren, you shall have your wish. But be warned, you will regret your unkindness to me.”

So Usher brought home the beautiful maiden, married her within a fortnight, and sure enough, the money began to come: the day after he discovered the selkie maiden, and went to fish, rather than bringing back an empty net, his net was so full of gold and jewels that his boat nearly broke. That night, his family celebrated, and Usher was single-handedly able to pay the landlord, and became so rich that he soon became well known throughout Scotland, and bought an estate in England.

The selkie’s third and final promise was fulfilled when, within the year, she bore Usher a son and heir, whom she named Alec, “For he shall aid his father in the fulfillment in his wish,” said she, but fell barren afterwards.

So Usher, now having received everything he ever dreamed of, took on the name of an old noble family, D’Urberville, a grand name that he passed on to his ‘noble’ son, who was to be raised to be a ‘gentleman’ and a ‘lord’. But the one thing Usher had not was a happy marriage: his wife, although timelessly beautiful, was listless and ghostlike; but Usher cared not for his wife’s welfare, only that she remained lovely and youthful even as they both aged, and pleasured him each night.

The only thing that seemed to rouse her from her trance was a precious few times, when she would appear to hear a noise although there was naught but silence, pause, and say with a wistful sigh, “My home calls to me. Oh, how I wish I could go back.”

Her words frightened Usher, and he made sure to hide her seal-skin wherever he could from her, terrified that, should she find it and return to the sea, that everything that she had promised him would disappear, and he would once again become poor, and a wailing new mouth to feed as well.

But his selkie wife, despite her search, never could find her hidden sealskin, and each night she would weep bitterly, and call out for her child; but Usher, fearful of his wife’s intentions, stole Alec away at birth and gave him to a hired nurse and governess to raise – and made both swear never to tell Alec about his mother, nor even mention such.

So Alec, as his father intended, was raised to be a gentleman, and especially took to horseback-riding; in appearance, he was everything his father was not, and all the ladies in town would swoon when he rode by, but Alec was not interested in any of them. One day, while visiting his father’s estate, he saw a beautiful woman appear on the balcony and stare off in the direction of the sea, and was instantly taken by her loveliness.

Riding furiously back to his country home, Alec inquired of his governess, “Who is the woman in my father’s estate? I did not know he had a wife.”

The governess, seized with fright should she break her oath, lied, “Oh, he does not. It is probably some lady he invited over for a party. He does love parties, as you know.” Alec, never having been lied to before, believed her, and yet could not help but think of the beautiful woman. The more he recalled her loveliness, the more feverishly he fell in love with her, and often went on furious rides in the country-side to try and ease his mind and body, to no avail.

“I must have her as my wife!” Alec cried out one night, while pacing in his room, “She is young and probably rich if she attends Father’s parties, and I am a handsome, rich young bachelor. Surely she could not refuse me!”

To be continued…

Harangue: "Love"

Look at all the perfectly nice toys and books, how shiny and new they are, for my little princess; listen to the words of the preacher-man in Sunday school, how lovely are his words to keep the awful Devil at bay; love Jesus, and don’t worry, he loves you too, for he is your shining savior and your happily ever after; yes, Jesus loves you, for the Bible tells you so, why else would he save your soul so you can go to heaven; now, if you are a good little girl, you will be happy always and forever, and someday your prince will come; now, here is a little doll for being so good, it is a princess, just like you; see, don’t you absolutely adore Cinderella and Snow White, such happy endings it makes me want to cry; but, oh, how I hate that evil Queen, how horrible she is to poor little Snow White, what do you mean you think that awful Queen is pretty; don’t forget the Little Mermaid, oh I am glad they changed the ending and spared the children, the real version is horrid; don’t you love their princess dresses, my little darling child, now don’t draw that, why don’t you draw the beautiful dresses instead, they are much lovelier; oh, how cute you look with that son of a preacher man, such a good little boy he is with his manners; he would be perfect for you, absolutely perfect, no doubt about it; look at how you’ve grown, so fair and comely, my little princess now a queen; good girl, here’s a pat on the head, you are such a doll; but not that son of a preacher-man, what happened to him, he used to be so nice and cute when he recited his prayers; dancing and smoking, that boy is nothing but trouble, but damn he is one Hell of a looker; what do you mean you like his music, it doesn’t make any sense, why not sing a choir song instead; but forget him, see here, this other boy is nice, he is so well-groomed and mannered; marry this boy here, lacks beauty but he is rich and you will live happily ever after; now what did I tell you to stay away from that God-forsaken boy, I swear to God if I catch you with him again you’ll be damned forever; what do you mean you’re already damned to Hell and that he is your knight in shining armor after all?

Oedipus and Electra, Paul and Hester: Freudian and Jungian Themes in D.H. Lawrence's "The Rocking-Horse Winner"

WARNING: CONTAINS EXPLICIT MATERIAL - READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

To help get you in 'the mood'...think of the following lyrics in terms of the Electra complex*...

All you people look at me like I'm a little girl
Well, did you ever think it'd be okay for me to step into this world?
Always saying; little girl, don't step into the club
Well, I'm just trying to find out why 'cause dancin's what I love yeah

I know I may come off quiet, may come off shy
But I feel like talking, feel like dancing when I see this guy
What's practical is logical, what the hell who cares?
All I know is I'm so happy when you dancing there-ere

I'm a slave for you
I cannot hold it, I cannot control it
I'm a slave for you
I won't deny hide it, I'm not trying to hide it...

"I'm a Slave 4 U" - Britney Spears (radio provided)

* - The Electra complex is the psychoanalytic theory that a female's psychosexual development involves a sexual attachment to her father, and is analogous to a boy's attachment to his mother that forms the basis of the Oedipus complex.

The idea is based largely on the work of Sigmund Freud, who uses the Oedipus complex as a point of reference for its elaboration. The term, however, was introduced by Carl Jung in 1913. Freud himself explicitly rejected Jung's term, because it "seeks to emphasize the analogy between the attitude of the two sexes", and continued to use the feminine Oedipus attitude in his own writings.

Freud's research on female psychology, sexuality in particular, was limited by then relevant social conventions of gender and class. Women of the period were considered the 'second sex' and many of his female patients were labeled "degenerates."

The "feminine Oedipus attitude" was posited by Freud as a theoretical counterpart to the Oedipus complex. Carl Jung proposed the name Electra complex for Freud's concept, deriving the name from the Greek myth of Electra, who wanted her brother to avenge the death of the siblings' father Agamemnon, by killing their mother, Clytemnestra.

According to Freud, a girl, like a boy, is originally attached to the mother figure. However, during the phallic stage, when she discovers that she lacks a penis, she becomes libidinally attached to the father figure, and imagines that she will become pregnant by him, all the while becoming more hostile toward her mother.

Freud attributes the character of this developmental stage in girls to the idea of "penis envy", where a girl is envious of the male penis. According to the theory, this penis envy leads to resentment towards the mother figure, who is believed to have caused the girl's "castration." The hostility towards the mother is then later revoked for fear of losing the mother's love, and the mother becomes internalized, much the same as the Oedipus complex.

Implementing a series of literary devices, including diction, style, imagery, and allusion to Freudian concepts and psychological theories, D.H. Laurence provides a juxtaposition to the Oedipus complex of the son, or the Electra complex of the mother. Upon the opening and setting the tone of the story, borrowing from the style of fairy-tales to construct one in upon itself, the reader learns that the mother, rather than loving her children, possesses a “hard heart” and a desperate hunger only satiable by more money, and in turn sex from the son. With no reason listed other than the failure of the father figure, the husband of the woman, to provide for the wants of the mother and his inability to slake her insatiable thirst for money, or sex, and thus the mother turns to the son in substitute.

So longing to gratify her own compulsive and animalistic need for sex, or money in this instance, the mother, driven to the brink of insanity by the depravity of acceptance, commits an act so heinous it border upon vile: incest. Wondering why in the world a woman who should care for and nurture her children, rather than treat them akin to sex toys or sensually gratifying objects to use and discard at whim, one can only turn to one answer: the mother, in turn, faced depravation of love and acceptance from her own father during childhood.

Thus, causing an unattainable source of love, one may theorize that the girl-child developed an unhealthy obsession for her father, envisioning acts of sex and equating them with love; and, unable to act out upon such fantasies or even facing hate and further rejection from the father due to her Electra complex had she dared to act upon it, turned embittered, cruel, cold, and “hard-hearted”, and enslaving her to a lifetime of trying to 'redeem' that missing love through sexual and fatherly obsession.

Or, another theory, one also equally likely, presents a different image: that of an involved, caring father, but one with an unhealthy sexual and dominance obsession for the daughter, beating and molesting her and raping her of both innocence and love, scarring the girl-child for life. Attempting to reach out to her father, the girl, although despising him for his vile acts against her, in turn cannot help but adore him, and mistaking his sins for love, in turn craves his abuse, the abuse in itself the crux that fills the need of the girl-child for some semblance of love.

In terms of evidence for such a reason, one need only look upon my two aunts on my father’s side, both of whom faced molestation from a cruel and abusive step-father who wished to dominate the family in every way possible, even resorting to ‘feeling up’ his young step-daughters. One turned to drugs and in turn sought out men akin to the abusive step-father, while the other plunged herself wholly into religious life, ardent ministry, and prayer, in an attempt at distraction.

In a similar manner, the mother in The Rocking-Horse Winner, upon maturation, attempts to distract herself by marrying a handsome man, most likely in resemblance to her father, only to discover his lack of aptitude in both earning sustenance and income for the family, and sexually by failing to satisfy the violent and taboo addictions of his wife, to recreate the oppressive dominance formerly practiced by the father of the mother. In such case, the mother cares not for the father, but only for her own selfish obsessions, her own scars and blinded desire for only her father driving an impenetrable, invisible barrier through not only the marriage, but eventually between a normal, healthy relationship between she and her son.

Whereupon the mother discovers and experiences pregnancy, one may also assume, if the mother equates her husband and her father, that she views the child she carries in terms of love, not a separate entity, but a void filled physically and mentally by the ‘father’ and hers alone. Achieving what she could not before, or so-called love, the mother must naturally obsess and fawn over her pregnancy and the ‘gift’ given to her by the ‘father’, a crude claim of his dominance through his seed taking root and growing in her womb.

When the mother gives birth, however, from the moment the child enters the world and leaves the mother feeling empty and shamed, without ‘love’, the mother turns her sadistic and masochistic affections and attentions upon the son, in a constant and subconscious attempt to drag him back into her womb and give her the feeling of satisfaction and ‘love’ again. Since one cannot re-enter the womb of his mother and rebirth himself – a Biblical allusion taken from a teaching of Jesus to represent the cruel irony of the desperate mother in her desire for salvation from her broken life – the mother faces the only choice left: direct sexual relations with the son.

Trying to appease the mother, the son, unselfish and equally ravenous for love from his cold-hearted and indifferent parent, acquiesces to her demands and in turn develops an Oedipus complex. Beginning the cycle of abuse anew, and akin to his father and mother, the son mentally and physically snaps under the brutal and constant cravings of a love-starved and abusive parental figure. Not without succeeding where his father failed, of course, the son delivers well upon his word: impregnating the mother and providing her with the emotional high of a sense of belonging she so beloved, after the mother previously miscarried, revealed through allusions to impregnation in the horse-race winnings and failures of the son.

With a somber note, D.H. Lawrence ends the grotesque, macabre, and sickeningly inverted fairy-tale with a scathing message: My God, Hester, you’re eighty-thousand to the good, and a poor devil of a son to the bad. But, poor devil, poor devil, he’s best gone out of a life where he rides a rocking-horse to find a winner.

Poem - "The Golden Truth"

This is an extended metaphor free verse poem, written for an AP English Literature assignment, and weaves together the themes of dual love and hate of death, personified in the manifestation of both man and beast, the epitome of womanly desire. For it reveals the 'Golden Truth' - although we hate and fear death, we and all life need it to continue the eternal cycle, and secretly idolize and romanticize death and the mystery of it in an ironic twist of Freudian human psychology.

The Golden Truth

The grand illusion of a fretful mind

A dream and vision yet to unwind

Of the golden boy who I dreamt of,

The epitome of righteous love.

Slender arms of utmost grace,

A Grecian god with a wondrous face,

Hair of bright gold lay like pleats of grain

Upon his chest, garnet scars like rain.

Black eyes, hungry and onyx, seek

For those both villainous and meek-

Tall and skeletal, more corpse than man,

Fear greatly instilled, from whom many ran.

The great shape-changer, I am, says he,

Whom none but you, God, and I can see;

A great and terrible force indeed,

For whence you, and all life, most heed.

Arms spread wide, from his form shook

Within the instance of a small look

Golden plumage, his down ablaze

Bleeding down his breast did raze.

From beady canary-eyes he gazed at I,

Never once taking flight, nor to the sky

Did he look, but gave a rather cruel grin,

And I wondered – was to love him, a sin?

A violent heart, a knife to my chest,

Did with each kiss at his behest –

To hate one as he I never had before,

Yet my love for him was even more.

And forevermore, shall he be the same –

For everyone does dread his name-

Janus Two-face – why, I know him well

And he is DEATH, the unbreakable spell.

The Underground Authors of Bishop Verot

My Fanfiction.net Profile - under penname "Feng Huang Yue"

A fact about me most people do not know involves my writing identity - for a few years now, I went 'underground', so to speak, delving into the massive online realm of fiction and fanfiction writing and reviewing. In order to mask my true identity for protection against potential youth predators or stalkers, and to follow in the tradition of taking on a unique pen name when writing, and I chose the title "Feng Huang Yue", a phrase roughly equivalent to "moon phoenix" in the Chinese language.

Why did I select such an odd title? For one, in legend and myths, especially pagan ones, the moon experiences rebirth each night, to give light to the darkness.

The phoenix, the legendary "firebird" of Egyptian and Chinese mythology, also associated with the Resurrection, salvation and hope for rebirth in Heaven after death, and Jesus Christ, symbolizes rebirth and restoration to health. Akin to the rebirth of Yue every night to bring light to a dark, despairing world, the phoenix, associated with the saving power of Jesus, also gives hope that, although men may die, they will experience rebirth and eternal peace, and provide a guiding light for the living to look forward to and follow.

Thus, I melded the two, and thus came into existence my pen name - Feng Huang Yue.

In accordance with my new pen name, I considered writing a way to spiritually liberate myself, to in essence 'rebirth' myself through my writing and through it, come to new levels of understanding, thought, and enlightenment through philosophy, speculation, and characterization.

Today I focus and direct much of my writing towards the Twilight saga, by author Stephenie Meyer, a graduate of Brigham Young University with a major in English Literature. Although better known for the contemporary fad centered around the books and movies, Twilight and its characters provide inspiration for my writing, and my efforts to improve my penmanship skills overall.

In addition to my own account, to which you might find the link to above, not only I exist to write such so-called 'fanfiction' at Bishop Verot. Recently joined in such efforts include sophomore Paula Weinman, who writes for J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series under the pen name of 'Vanilla Parchment' - which one may find here.

Together, we form the Underground Authors of Bishop Verot - those who live to write, and yet do so with little or no knowlege of our peers, seeking to ascend to greater heights to perfect our writing skills and to publish original books of our own.

Check us out sometime!

Flagler College Essay

The College considers the essay the vital component in the selection of students. In the space provided or on a separate sheet, tell us something about your past experiences, present and future goals, and how Flagler College fits into these goals. Be sure to stay on topic and to write a carefully considered, grammatically correct essay.

In the contemporary world, excellence rarely surfaces in individuals, replaced by mediocre efforts on the part of the individuals and less-than-distinct qualities, smothered by the ingrained teachings of tutors in modern schools to conform, perfect, and succeed to further the prestige of the educator, rather than the pupil.

I myself experienced first-hand the dire effects of such a practice, trying to perform my best, and yet worked hard despite the pre-set molds of the perfect little student my elementary and middle school instructors endeavored to force I and my peers. Rather than conform to the standard the tutors of the school deemed the only possible way for a student to gain favor in their eyes, I formed myself in a different manner, and transformed into my own unique persona, rather than the common one several of my prior teachers attempted to meld me into.

Despite my lack of friends, I instead turned to books and reading, furthering my education by tenfold over the years and rapidly expanding my cache of vocabulary and literary terms, and steadily advancing far ahead of my peers in terms of reading and writing ability, endeavoring to perfect my skills in both regards.

In time, I befriended a precious few people, one of whom suffered death from an unfortunate accident around the time she celebrated her thirteenth birthday, and I my fifteenth; we mirrored each other in friendship and personality so much that her passing affected me deeply, and in turn I developed a wise, sensitive view of the world, and occurrences in it. My diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome in the following years only served to increase my enlightenment, analytical writing and thinking process, and awareness of the world, in addition to my sensitivity to it; I knew that my mind worked and functioned differently than others’, but the cause now explained why.

The excellent writing skills and flamboyant creativity once thought to be genetic and inherited from one or both of my parents, now stemmed from the fact that my brain process differed from others of my age, in some respects far greater in skill, and in others, less, also accounting for my emotional, passionate nature and love of drama and the arts. Throughout the years, I worked to improve my acting skills, and from an early age, I easily measured up to my instructors’ standards, even meriting the lead in one of the summer productions at an arts camp I attended, and positions in several school plays.

Though, again, discouragement of students who experienced trouble melding into the typecast mold of my previous educational institution in turn discouraged me from pursuing acting again until my senior year of high school, I never gave up my goal of one day mastering the arts of acting, drama, literature, and writing. In the following years, at my high school, my skills reached their highest peak so far, developing and improving rapidly with the introduction of the pastime of reading, studying, and reviewing others’ online writing and works, both in class, and on a personal basis, and writing beautiful literary works highly rated by other students, teachers, and strangers alike.

The art of writing came easily to me, proving more akin to breathing, easy and effortless, and yet more enjoyable than any other venue I encountered in my entire time spent within the halls of school, and by seeking to join the Flagler College community, I hope to add my venerable skills to the impressive myriad of creative talent present there.