The story of an Hour The wind blows through the blissful moments. I’ve always felt lonely since the former owner left the house. But now the feeling of loneliness is gone because now I am with the Mallard family.

The story of an Hour

By Kate Chopin (1894) and Tatpong (2022)

The wind blows through the blissful moments. I’ve always felt lonely since the
former owner left the house. But now the feeling of loneliness is gone because now I
am with the Mallard family. Since they moved here, the house has become warmer
and more cheerful. There are three people in this house. The first was Mr. Brently
Mallard, he was a warm-hearted man and a good husband. The second Mrs. Louise
Mallard. She was a very beautiful woman, but I secretly knew that she is suffering
from heart disease. I felt sorry for her. The third person, Josephine, she is Mrs.
Mallard's sister, she is very cheerful, her face is full of smiles every day. And there
is another person who likes to frequent the house, which is Richard. He is a close
friend of Mr. Mallard; they are very dear friends. Richard is well mannered and
cheerful; I like him too. The four of them looked very friendly and happy.

But one day, something tragic happened to this family. I overheard Mallard's
close friend Richard, who used to work at the newspaper together, talk about the
news about the train accident. In the news, the name of Brently Mallard [Mr.
Mallard] said he was dead. I saw Richard crying in front of the house and saw
Richard trying to keep the other friends from showing Mrs. Mallard a sad message.
Later, Mrs. Mallard's sister Josephine indirectly told Mrs. Mallard that Mr. Mallard
is dead.

After Josephine told Mrs. Mallard. I saw Mrs. Mallard sitting in the living room
when she heard the news of her husband's death. She couldn't accept this. She
cried immediately upon hearing of her husband's death. She lay down hugging her
sister. When she calmed down, she walked up to the second floor. Which is her
room.

In her room, she could see my treetops at that moment. The delicious breath of
rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes
of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless
sparrows were twittering in the eaves. There were patches of blue sky showing
here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in
the west facing her window.

Later I saw her reclining in her old chair. She sat quietly. But later there was a
sobbing sound in her throat. A sob that represents her sorrow. She sobbed like a
child who had cried to sleep. For me, she was young, with a fair, calm face, whose
lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull
stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of
blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of
intelligent thought.

Now I feel like something's coming towards her. I saw that her were scared and
waiting for that. I don't know what it is and she doesn't know either. It was too
subtle and elusive to name. But she and me felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching
toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.

Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this
thing that was approaching to possess her, and I know she was striving to beat it
back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been.
When she abandoned herself, a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted
lips. I heard something from her. She said it over and over under the breath: "free,
free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from
her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood
warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.

I'm very worried about her. I could feel her fear I want to go and help you I
would like hugged her but I couldn't. All I could do was look from a distance outside
the window.

Now, she did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her.
A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She
knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in
death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and
dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come
that would belong to her absolutely. I saw, she opened and spread her arms out to
them in welcome.

I could feel those things coming towards her. Something, try to tell her that no
one can live forever. She will live for herself; nothing will obscure her perseverance
and will. Her various intents, be it good intentions or cruel intentions, were all her
motives.

But even so, she still loves her husband. Oftentimes, she may think about how
important it is to show love. But now for me love is what drives me well-being.
"Free! Body and soul free!" I still hear her whisper.

Now I hear a knock on the door. I think it might be her sister Josephine. “Louis,
open the door, you're going to make yourself sick. What are you doing? Louis, open
the door now," Josephine's voice shouted through the keyhole with pity and sad.

"Get out, Josephine, I'm fine. I didn't make myself sick," Mrs. Mallard yelled back.

Right now, I really want to help her because she's about to drink some pills in the
window. But I can't stop you because I'm just a tree. Now, her fancy was running
riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of
days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It
was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.

Later she stood up and walked to open the door of the room. Her eyes now had
a fiery heat inside and she even thought that she was now the Goddess of Victory.
She walked down the stairs with her sister. Now I look at them through the window
of the first-floor house. Richard seemed to be still sitting in the living room
downstairs.

Richard asked her how it was. She replied that she was nothing but suddenly she
fell to the ground. After that, someone knocked on the front door and the door
opened. I could hardly believe my eyes. The person who walked in was Mr. Brently
Mallard. I saw his body covered in stains and calmly carrying a sack and an
umbrella. He didn't even seem to even know that he was dead. Now he stood
amazed at what was happening. Josephine weeps and Richard calls the doctor. And
Mr. Mallard's gaze was on Mrs. Mallard lying on the floor, he thought Mrs. Mallard
was just asleep. But when the doctor arrived, the doctor said that Mrs. Mallard had
died.

At the end of the doctor's voice, I saw that Mrs. Mallard and Mr. Mallard stood
hand in hand, looking warmly at the Josephine and Richard and before he walked
out of this house, he turned and spoke to me. I'm a tree. He said, "Thank you, I know
you've always been with us." I cried when I heard that. I now watch them walk into
the warm meadows and disappear.

Thank you

Mr.Tatpong Chob-Ngan
No.5 Student number 6401103001019

64005.151