The Story of an Hour

Only available on StudyMode
  • Download(s) : 405
  • Published : March 13, 2012
Open Document
Text Preview
Ayodeji Ilesanmi
Ms. Pape
English 1302.626
February 23, 2012
Part One: Alternate ending to “The Story of an Hour”
“Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey, it was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife” (Chopin, 16). Josephine rushed to the door looked at Mr. Mallard with great amazement, “Am I dreaming or in trance?” She asked, she walked around Brently in an anticlockwise manner, Brently Mallard was losing his patience, he yelled ‘’can someone tell me what’s going on here?” Richard spoke as he ascends the stairs “we got some news that you were dead in the accident and that….Brently cuts in “what accident?” The surprise in his face was indescribable, “did you tell my wife? He asked. Richard and Josephine looked at each other, both opened their mouth, no voice was heard. Brently Mallard screamed as he navigates the spiral stairway downstairs “I’m alive!!!! I’m alive!!” Ms. Mallard heard her husband’s voice, she jumped out of herself almost with her last breath, they hugged each other intimately but she was very tired. He helped her to bed, she was frail and exhausted. He said over and over again “I’m alive!! I’m alive!!” Mr. Mallard ran back and forth to get some water and her medications. He also got her some fruits and made her dinner that night, but she only had a bite. He pampered her like of those days when had just met each other; he massaged her feet, gave her warm bath and put her in bed. At about midnight, the wind blew softly as the petals of rose dropped down, dry leaves from off the tree, Ms. Mallard groaned out softly – she had breathe her last, he turned on the light and before he could say a word she was gone……an inevitable quiet end. Kate Chopin’s “The Story of an Hour”...
tracking img