Chapter 2

Here's chapter two. "The Eagle" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson belongs solely to Alfred, Lord Tennyson and no copyright infringement was intended.

{Chapter Two} Fear makes us feel our humanity.~Benjamin Disraeli

"No,no, this can not be happening." Heather thought to herself, panic rising in her chest. Her one safe time, classes, was disappearing before her eyes and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Hey," The guy said, tilting his chin up to acknowledge her.

"Hi." Heather muttered meekly, staring down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap, the skin against her knuckles stretched white.

He gave her a look that clearly said "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Heather sank lower in her chair, wishing he would go sit somewhere else, anywhere else. Her boyfriend slid into the seat next to her and Heather stiffened. Under the table he grabbed the skin on her arm and pinched, hard. She felt his hot breath against her neck and shuttered lightly. "That's what you get for not looking at me when I'm talking, you good for nothing-."

Mrs. Galloway interrupted him by calling his name. "Caleb Jacobson?"

"Here mam', " He replied, raising his hand and letting go of Heather. She bit her lip to keep the pain that his pinch had caused from showing on her face.

"Heather Foxx?" The teacher called.

"Present," she replied, wishing she were anywhere else. Mrs. Galloway scribbled something on the blackboard and began explaining light spectrums and how the human eye saw. Normally studious, Heather couldn't focus. She was a nervous wreck, her body was stiff and her hands were shaking. The notes she took were illegible and the pen skittered over the paper. She would need to copy them again. The class took forever, seconds stretching on and on into eternity. Heather kept glancing at her watch, watching the seconds tick by. It seemed as if the metal hands were moving slower than usual just to spite her because they knew how unbearable sitting next to Caleb was. She was afraid she would mess up, do something to anger him. If Heather did, she would feel it later, he would make sure of that.

It had all begun so innocently. Caleb had stopped by her locker and asked her to go out with him and a few of their friends to see a movie and she had agreed. He was a perfect gentleman, opening the door for her and pulling out her seat. He even insisted that he pay for the ticket to see the movie even though Heather had enough money. He had driven her home and given her a kiss goodnight. Heather had danced around her room with a smile on her face. "He's the one." she thought to herself. "He's the one." The next date was the same and even with the two of them alone, Caleb was on his best behavior. They went to an Italian place called "Gigi's" and had shared a pizza. It was a wonderful evening. How did it all go so wrong?

The bell rang, pulling Heather out of her thoughts. She grabbed her notebook and pen and dashed out the door, trying to stuff them into her bag as she ran. As she exited the classroom, Heather let out a sigh of relief. She had English next, her favorite class and he wasn't in it. She hurried down the hallway without looking back over her shoulder. As she was switching books at her locker, Heather's phone buzzed. Pulling it out of her pocket, she checked the screen. "One new message: Caleb Jacobson" it read. Cursing, Heather closed her locker and hurried down the hall to English. When she was a few feet away from the classroom, she opened the message and read. "Meet me at lunch," he had written. "B209, don't be late."Well, there went her time with Sam. Heather turned the phone off and slipped it into her pocket, walking into her English class in slumped defeat. She took her seat in the back of the room, long hair spilling over her shoulders to hide her face.

“Heather, are you okay?” Mr. Cole, her English teacher asked.

“Yeah, just tired,” She replied. It was the same answer every time someone asked and yet no one seemed to notice. What could she say, “No, my boyfriend abuses me and I’m scared to death that I’ll do something wrong and he’ll hurt me?” When did anybody even listen to the answer anyways? They didn't want an answer; never even listened to if she said she was good or bad. It was just a pleasantry, just being polite.

"Go to sleep early tonight." Mr. Cole said absentmindedly, already walking towards his desk at the front of the classroom.

"Yeah, sure." Heather murmured. If only fixing her problems was as easy as going to sleep earlier. The bell rang and Mr. Cole started writing something on the blackboard in the front of the room. He blocked the text from view with his body, his thin wiry frame concealing the words. A few seconds later, he stepped away from the board, revealing what he had been writing. There was a title printed in bold, block letters on the green surface. Heather whispered it aloud to herself, her voice no more then a faint whisper. "The Eagle by Alfred, Lord Tennyson" Beneath it was a short poem that immediately drew Heather's attention.

In a loud, clear voice Mr. Cole began to read, the sound echoing through the silent room. Every student was watching and listening to him.

"He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls."


Heather inhaled and closed her eyes. The way the poet had captured so many strong emotions and images in just six lines was beyond her.

Mr. Cole stood quietly at the front of the room, letting the words he had spoken sink in. Finally, he spoke. " What do you think the poet was trying to say?" he asked, his level gaze surveying the room.

Heather instinctively dropped her gaze, avoiding eye contact.

"No one?" Mr. Cole asked, raising his white eyebrows questioningly. When still no response came, he asked a different question. "Why do you think the eagle fell?" This time, hands shot up. "Andrea?" Mr. Cole inclined his head to a slim girl sitting at the front of the class.

"The eagle didn't fall." the girl stated, running a hand through her silky black hair. "He dove, after prey."

"That could be." Mr. Cole replied, smiling. "Anyone else?"

Heather tentative raised her hand, afraid of having the wrong answer.

"Heather" Mr. Cole nodded to her and she spoke.

"The eagle is a metaphor, it stands for power falling." She looked up at the teacher, waiting to hear that she was wrong and the eagle was noting of the sort.

When Mr. Cole said nothing, she continued.

"The poet described the eagle as a he, not a she. An eagle is often used as a symbol for power and authority. During the Victorian era, men were also considered powerful and strong. I think the poet made a choice when he decided to have the eagle be a male and not a female as females are often considered soft and weak. When the poet writes 'Ring'd with the azure world, he stands' I thought of a large, powerful eagle with the blue sky as his backdrop, like it belonged to him. In the first stanza, the writer showcases the eagle as strong and magnificent, except for in the first line when he says 'He clasps the crag with crooked hands;' The crooked hands part made me think the eagle was old. When the poet continued by saying that the eagle watched the 'wrinkled sea' move beneath him, it made me think of someone watching something that they know is dangerous but they are so sure nothing can go wrong that they aren't afraid. It reminds me of someone who has been in power a long time, who is so self-confident that they believe nothing can go wrong. The final line with the eagle falling is so sudden, just like the fall of power, completely unexpected." Heather finished talking and folded her hands in her lap, nervous. What if she had said something wrong?

Mr. Cole just smiled and nodded, giving no clue as to what he was thinking. Finally, he spoke. "Very good Heather, I hadn't thought of it that way before but you make a valid claim."

She sighed, still having no idea to what her English teacher thought of her response. 'Valid claim' was just him saying that she supported her response well, it didn't mean she was right.

"Today, we are going to write a poem or poems based off of The Eagle. It can be anything as long as the poem embodies one or more aspects of the original poem. Any questions?" When no hands were raised, Mr. Cole nodded and went to his desk, pulling out a stack of papers.

Heather stared at her own blank notebook page. What was she going to right about? Mr. Cole had said to write anything as long as it embodies at least one of the elements of The Eagle so Heather decided to make a list of what had stood out to her in the poem. She wrote a heading and underlined it before staring at her paper blankly again. Where to start? Well, the vivid imagery had certainly pulled her in. On the left side of the paper, Heather made a bullet point and wrote 'imagery' next to it. Next was 'simplicity' then 'alliteration'. That would be enough, she decided. Heather was especially intrigued by the simplicity and imagery so she circled those two on her list. Next, a topic... immediately one phrase came to mind and without thinking, Heather wrote it down. She was in poetry mode now, her brain had no filters. In a few short minutes, a small poem was written on the once blank paper.

"Depression

A deep pit in which to fall,
A hole you can't climb out of
though your hands scrabble for purchase,
reaching, reaching up to the sky
but oozing black fingers of despair
clutch at you,
dragging you down into their deep, dark abyss. "

She read it over and tore it out of her notebook with a sigh, there was no way she could turn that it, it might get Mr. Cole suspicious. Again, she wrote.

"Masks

Easy to pull on,
hard to take off
they become you
sucking the soul out
and
replacing it with a cold
emotionless mask,
A heart of stone. "

It was no good, she couldn't turn that one in either. "Happy," Heather told herself, "think happy thoughts." Her hand automatically reached up to close around the locket hanging on a thin gold chain around her neck. She rubbed her thumb over the ridged, engraved surface and closed her eyes. Happy memories flooded her, sunlight, laughing, warmth. She smiled in spite of herself and opened her eyes. The locket worked its magic every time. Carefully, decisively, Heather placed her pen on the paper and started to write.

"Memories

What else has such a powerful influence on your life,
for your memory never leaves you.

It torments you,
showing mistakes and terrible experiences you would like to forget,
it comforts you with peaceful images and familiar sounds.

I've learn to take the good,the bad, just breath.
For things only have power over you if you give them that power.

Memories,
What else has such a powerful influence over your life?"

The bell rang just as Heather was finishing and she rushed up to the front of the room to give her paper to Mr. Cole, pulling her bag over her shoulder. The rest of the morning passed in a blur, Heather was unable to focus with the thought of meeting Caleb at lunch looming over her.

Author's Note

So, what do you think? Anything I could change/improve? Any general comments about the book so far?