St.Pete

The city of Saint Petersburg is an important main character throughout Crime and Punishment. It not only provides the setting and sets the mood for the novel, but it also is a comprehensibly everyday symbol of Raskolnikov’s state of mind. Saint Petersburg, as we read, is rarely portrayed as a pleasant and healthy city to live in, rather as hot, musty, sickening, dirty, crowded, full of different scum and egoistic people. In a way it symbolizes Raskolnikov’s mental stability, we can see this when he gets lost in the city or forgets which streets he takes to make to one of his destinations. I think it is meant to show that he doesn’t understand or remember how he arrived at his conclusions about life and to show that his head, his mind is not a pleasant thing to live with, but rather life with it is pain and a punishment. 

Money

An important symbol in Crime and Punishment is money. Money is an understandable symbol, because every one of the readers has dealt with money and can therefor apply this symbol to themselves. Raskolnikov gives and receives money a couple times during the novel. Every single time the money he possesses is not rightfully his, not money he earned. He has no right to give it away, but he does so anyway. In addition to money, we give to others are our time, attention and love. Money is symbolic of all of these things. Raskolnikov is not the rightful owner of the money he gives out, and we are not rightful owners of our time, but never the less we give and dedicate it to people. Sometimes we cannot see the reason behind our actions, just like Raskolnikov blames his generosity on delirium, however we are appointed to be joyful givers.

Intro to Black Dahlia

When writing this short story, I hoped to create an intriguing setting and realistic dialogue, but more importantly make my readers think about the shortness and preciousness of now. 

The introduction paragraph sets the mood for the rest of the story and entices the reader to keep on reading. Although ambiguous in some aspects, the story progresses and ideas as well as events start to take shape, forming into one picture that makes the story so much more impacting. 

My desire was to make you think and apply some of the ideas from this piece to your personal life, as well as create an electrifying and sensual setting that would suck you into the backseat of the main character’s car. 

I would love to hear your opinion on my story and whether I achieved my goals, so don’t waste another second… Black Dahlia is waiting…

Black Dahlia

The night was too serene. The sounds of the highway were almost inaudible. The stars were out and the silk breeze shattered against two dark figures as they swiftly, but urgently, as if trying to put the events of the night behind them, hurried to the car. The doors opened and shut silently, as if the men did not wish that anyone would know of their presence, or maybe it was just to preserve the stillness of the beautiful and satin night. As the car growled and came to life the spell of mystery was broken.

Once they were on the highway the older man cast his first curt  glance at the younger man, sitting in the passenger’s seat right next to him. Feeling the gaze upon him the young man pressed his lips together, as if stopping all the things he had in his mind from flowing out and instead looked on to the dark and desolated road. It looked like it went nowhere. Both men were tense in the strained silence, although both had different reasons that would not let them verbalize their thoughts and fears. The older did not want to flood the younger with the things he had to say, not words of understanding, but rather of reprimand. He understood that he must say them, because he discerned something in his passenger’s face that cried for words of guidance, help, but even more so, encouragement, that would give him faith in himself and more importantly in the Redeemer. The older man searched his brain for things he learned at the seminary that could bring hope and change in the heart of the unsuccessful lawbreaker that was sitting next to him.

"I am sorry I had to call you tonight, but if I called my parents they would flip out and probably leave me in there. I would rather have you bail me out and then preach at me and try to save my lost soul than face them tonight,” said the passenger, his voice firm and defiant.

The driver, without moving a single muscle, without acknowledging that he heard the young man’s controversial apology, looked ahead. He scrutinized the road. The curves and turns directed him on his way home, promising a safe and restful destination. He was trying to pull his thoughts together.

"You don't have to say anything. I know what you’re thinking. 'Poor boy, is it too late for him? No it can't be, O Jesus my Savior, protect his soul from fiery hell', but this is my life and I do what I want and maybe... someday... if I feel like it, I’ll go out of my way and change. But that won’t be today. There’s always tomorrow, pastor,” continued the young man, dismissively waving his hand, as though that was support enough for his haughty claim. Then, as if he gained his second wind, he straightened out in the passenger seat, adjusted the seatbelt, leaned over and stared the driver in the eye, a challenge in every miniscule muscle movement. “Doesn't your precious book speak only of second chances and hope for the lost, the ones like me? I will have my second chance for as long as I live, so I don't have to decide anything tonight or even anytime soon. What am I like, twenty? My whole life is ahead of me, just like this stupid highway", spat the young man, his face contorting in a grimace of disdain, as he once again glanced onto the road covered in obsidian darkness.

This time the older man could not keep his thoughts in, "You are given today to prepare for tomorrow, and yes, a second chance is promised to all those who repent and come to know the Lord, as well as compassion, love, forgiveness and an eternity with Him, but your tomorrow is not promised to you by anyone."

The younger rolled his eyes and slowly, accenting every word drawled, "Neither was I told that I won’t get a tomorrow. So I will continue to hold to the belief that it is never too late in life to realize and revise". And with that he raised his chin and out of the corner of the eye glanced at the pastor.

Taking a deep breath, and then another, with long pauses in between, the pastor answered, "That is true. But know this: the greatest tragedy in life is that we realize things very late in our life and by the time we realize them, it’s too late".

"You seemed to be of the opinion that it’s never too late to see the light in the distance, the last time you drilled me on the whole salvation and eternal life deal. I’m not easily brainwashed, and you know it, so why should tonight be any different?" parried the passenger, while his voice filled with bewilderment.

"I am not trying to brainwash you. I want to tell you about what I know to be true. I want to show you how it has affected my life and after that I can only pray that you would at least think about it".

"Ok, sir, can we make a deal? I promise to think about it, but you will not bring it up ever again. And then maybe tomorrow something will change... if I feel like it. Tomorrow."

Without waiting for a response, the young man turned to look out the window at the dark shapes of trees that flashed by. His shoulders sagged and his head rested on the cold window, as his breaths condensed on the glass into delicate and detailed patterns. The silence was restored, although neither man felt at ease in this vacuum of conversation.

As the highway headed in to the city... Flash. Car.Swerve. Panic. Collision. Impact. Pain. Darkness. Ocean of pain. Vision obscured by blood. Ghoulish cough. Gasping. Last seconds.

Whisper from the driver seat, "I am not afraid of death because I am certain that God is already there, waiting to welcome me. Are you?"

Blackness. Cold. Numbness. Dawn. But for some it is too late to see the light in the distance.