The Wonderful Blog Which You ve Never Seen

The war novel “The Last of the Mohicans” contains a deep morale in itself. It teaches people that courage is the best solution to fear. Any problems that a person faces can be overcome, and it only takes one step to it-courage.

The characters exhibit courage in many different circumstances. The
novel follows three men traveling through the woods. Two of them are
Mohican Indians, Chingachgook and his son Uncas, and the other is a
white man raised by the Indians, Hawkeye. One day these men encounter
a caravan of English soldiers led by Major Duncan Hayward. This
caravan is in charge of escorting Colonel Munro’s daughters, Alice and
Cora, to Fort William Henry where their father is. When the three
Mohicans encounter the group they decide that they will help lead the
English to the Fort, but what they do not know is that the evil Magua
is out to get them, this fact leads to an endless chase.

Through this long game of chase many of these characters exhibit a
great deal of courage. Cora overcomes many fears that one would not
believe she could handle. When the group decides to hide in a dark
cave as being traced by the Hurons, Cora does not seem alarmed by
this, “‘is then our danger so pressing’” . At one point in the
novel Magua captures her sister and Cora is left with a decision to
make, surrender herself to the enemy to be with her sister or to run
away, “notwithstanding the horror excited by the presence of her
captorshe took her seatand held forth her arms for her sister”.
Cora knows that she must take care of her sister. At the end of
the novel Cora is captured by Magua and is being dragged along as he
is trying to escape the Mohicans, and Cora knows that she must stop.
She exclaims to the Magua that she, “will go no fartherkill me if thy
wilt detestable HuronI will go no farther”.

Although Magua is an evil character, he shows both moral and physical
courage. Magua has a strong moral courage, even after he is struck by
Hawkeye; he does not stop trying, “turning a relentless look on his
enemyhe shook a hand in grim defiance”. He knows that he must
not give up. His morals are not good, but he believes strongly in
them, “while he was making this ostensible sacrifice to general
considerationsMagua never lost sight of his individual motives”.

He does not let things stand on his way or change his mind; he
will hold close to his morals not matter what. This is what keeps him
from being defeated, he is extremely, and physically, courageous and
will not stop fighting until he is defeated, but unfortunately for
him, he is overcome by Hawkeye and his courageousness finds a quick
ending.

Uncas shows a great deal of courage in the novel as well, even though
bullets are flying over his head Uncas does not lose his concentration
and keeps paddling on. Most of Uncas’ courageous strength is due to
his physical qualities, he is determined to rescue Cora, and will not
give up. He often illustrates, through courage, a superhuman quality
that ultimately leads him to death, but he lacks courage in the moral
aspect. Uncas is a strong and courageous man, and he is determined
that he will never fail in what he tries to do, even if it leads him
to death.

Through out the length of the novel Hawkeye exhibits all three acts of
courage, expressed in three different ways, inner, physical, and
moral, and it would take all three of these acts to be able to leave
off the land. He has a strong and brave soul that allows him to do
this, he is confident in himself and his actions too.

All of these characters exhibit much strength in the inner, physical
and moral aspect. Cora, Magua, and Uncas, all show courage in
different ways, but lack in others. Hawkeye on the other hand shows
courageous acts abound. It seems like Cooper made the main character
of the novel the most courageous, because of all of the problems that
he faces, not only does Hawkeye have to face them but he also
overcomes them. He is strong at heart and body, which allows him to
overcome difficulties. With The Last of the Mohicans Chingachgook, the
Indian is meant. He and his son Uncas are the last of the tribe of the
Mohicans, and after Uncas was murdered Chingachgook was the last of
the Mohicans.

The article was produced by the member of masterpapers.com.
Sharon White is a senior writer and writers consultant at term papers. Get some useful tips for thesis and buy term papers .

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I pulled a chair up and sat on it. Titi was sitting directly opposite me, her skirt hitched up just above her knees. I smiled at her as I tried not to fix my gaze on her partially exposed laps. She noticed this and crossed her legs, pulling the herm of the skirt to cover as much as it can go.

I looked away quickly in embarrassment.

“Ok! Tim, hit me with it” she said, forcing me to stare back at her. I grinned ruefully and cleared my throat.

“This is hard for me to say, but I know I have to say it.” I paused to let in air, and then continued. “I have done all the necessary espionage and I found out that your husband is behind all these.”
I watched as surprise crept into her face, and then disbelief.

“No!” she said, “I can’t belief this. My husband can’t hurt a fly.”

“Yeah,” I said “I thought so too, but people can change under pressure or intense need for something else.”

“But not Harry” she retorted, still obstinate.

“Titi Am sorry, but I have to let you see the evidence. I reached into my left trouser pocket and brought out a tape recording machine, placed it on the glass centre table and pressed the ‘play’ button.

There was a loud incoherent noise like swoosh of water coming from the cassette for a while, then it died down and her husband’s voice vibrated. It was clear.

“Yeah, go ahead with the plan, Robert, no turning back. My wife won’t know what hit her. There is so much money to gain. You have to kill her. I want her wealth for myself. The bitch .”

I made to stop the tape, but she held up her hand. Her face was glistening with unshed tears.

“The bitch” the voice continued, “won’t know I did it and so the police won’t suspect I had a hand in it.”

“Ok boss” a second voice answered.

There was another sound and then the tape stopped.

“How . Could he?” She stammered as long streaks of tears poured down her cheeks.

I brought out a white handkerchief and gave it to her. She took it with shaky hands and mobbed her cheeks tenderly.

“Am sorry” I didn’t recognize my own voice; it had gone husky with pity.

“But I don’t understand ” her voice trailed off “why would he want to kill me, he couldn’t live without me?”

“Well, one thing is for sure, you are wealthier than your husband, right?”
She nodded sheepishly.
“He is doing it for the money; you just heard that. He wants to inherit your wealth.”
I picked up the tape recorder and put it back in my pocket.
“What should I do?” she asked.
“Pretence - pretend you know nothing about this, ok?” I answered calmly. “Don’t jitter and don’t confront Harry. You have to behave normal like nothing is amiss.”
She nodded.
“Thanks Tim, nice job.” She smiled sorrowfully.
“Hmm, it’s nice to see you smile again. Put some make up and get rid of those tears marks on your face.” I rose to my feet and pushed back the chair. Five strides took me to the door, but as I was about to yank it upon I remembered something. I turned towards her and asked, “Do you still want me to keep track on your husband?”
“Ah ” she stammered, “I think so.”

I am a Nigerian and an avid reader who also take great pleasure in putting pen to paper. I believe that with the right expression of words written with my pen people could change for the better and correct or curb some ills eating deep into our system of government or life in general. Poverty and corruption have always being Africa’s most dreaded diseases and Nigeria is no exception. I write fiction and non-fiction and also write articles on any subject, especially that concerning the well-being of the poor masses. I wish to be an acclaimed writer and author and a motivational speaker

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The night was so dark that Ann could not see her palm, yet she walked on. It had rained a deluge that afternoon and the aftermath of the torrent was devastating. Besides some houses it damaged, most of the streets were filled with muddy water. Every now and then, Ann would squint to make out a puddle of water and skip onto dry land. Albeit her carefulness she slipped a couple of times, dipping her feet into puddle of muddy water. If it was not for Mick, she would not have come out on a night like this. It was insane.

She peered at the luminous hands of her wristwatch; it was quarter to ten. Her thoughts slowly slipped into the past.

She had been invited to a friend’s party; Glory was celebrating her survival from a ghastly motor accident. She had just had a row with John her boyfriend and was feeling remorseful. Mick came into her line of vision and smiled.

“You shouldn’t sit alone while a song like this is playing. I beg you for a dance.” He said still smiling, his right hand stretched towards her.
Not knowing what she was doing, she took his hand and they began to dance to the rhythm of one of Phil Collins’ masterpiece - it was a love song titled ‘All my Life’. That was how they ended up being lovers, that was about six months ago.

She was jerked out of her reverie by the honking of a car horn. She was oblivious to the fact that she had been walking in the middle of the road, she moved back to the pedestrian lane smiling to herself.
Soon she was at Mick’s home; he lived in a two-storied building. His sitting room was posh and cozy. Mick was sitting on one of the deep sofas, his eyes glued to the giant television screen, sitting on an equally giant room divider. He didn’t give her the swiftest of glances as she walked in.

“Hi darling, don’t tell me I am late.” She said coming to sit on the arm of his chair.

He still didn’t take his eyes off the screen. He seemed so captivated by the program on TV. Ann looked at the screen. It was nothing important, just a man giving a weather report. She looked back at Mick and said.
“Is there a problem honey?”

“You are the problem,” he bellowed, turning to look at her for the first time since she entered the room. “You are the one who is pissing me off, you whore.”

“What have I done now?” She whimpered taking aback by the grotesque look on his face; the rage was something she had never seen before. This was the first time she was seeing Mick get mad, he never did or so she thought.

“What did you do? What didn’t you do?” he said picking up a brown envelope that was lying on the glass table. She had seen it when she walked in but didn’t think anything of it. He tossed the envelope viciously on her laps. The flap of the envelope gave way revealing the contents.

Ann was aghast. She was in all three jumbo sized pictures but she was not alone, a man was with her but not only that, he had his hands all over her. She was smiling and she looked very beautiful in the photos.
She turned towards him trying to say something, but he did not let her. The thunderous slap across her face choked the words and sent her flying out of her chair.

Mick came at her, ferocious like a beast. “You two-timing slut, you’ve been cheating on me.”

“No! Let me explain” she stuttered, picking herself up from the ground. Mick was not in the mood to listen to any cock and bull story.

“Explain what? You girls always have something to say when you’ve f*cked up.”

Ann turned and ran towards the stairs; she took it two at a time. Mick went after her screaming, “come back here you bitch, you can’t run away from me.” He bounded the stairs also.

Ann soon reached the end of the stairs and grasped the handle of the door in front of her. She pulled at it but the door didn’t budge. She turned around just in time to see Mick’s big arm swinging towards her. She side stepped. The impetus of his charge made Mick slam against the door, as his hand missed Ann. That flared up his anger. He turned towards her.
“I am going to kill you.” He spurted.

She was so frightened that she moved backwards swiftly unaware that she was very close to the stair case rail. Mick hit her on the chest and the strength behind his blow made her ram the small of her back against the rail; the force swept her feet off the ground. She plummeted downwards. She saw Mick dive towards her, this time to save her. He was a fraction late. His fingers closed around the herm of her skirt for just a moment before her weight wrenched the skirt from his hand. She felt herself floating in mid air, gave a shrilling scream and then she hit the carpeted floor with a light thud.

“Ann!” Mick yelled, and ran down the steps as fast as he could. He knelt down beside her. She was eagle-spread with her neck twisted to the left. One look at her face told him she was dead. Her eyes were open and so was her mouth, bright red blood trickled from one side of her mouth down to her cheeks.

“Goddamn it, don’t die on me Ann.” He mourned, pulling her head up. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean it, would you please wake up”. He ranted like a madman, but Ann had already crossed the thin line that separates the living from the dead. She was cold dead. Feeling defeated, he dropped her head slowly on the rug and bolted for the phone. He picked up the receiver and punched some numbers. It was the area police department number. He listened to the buzzing sound coming from the other end, with his heart thumbing viciously against his breast. He discovered that his hands were shaking vigorously, he tried to calm them but it was of no use. He held his left wrist to steady the phone receiver.

“Hello, area police department, this is desk sergeant Ken. Who is on the line?” The voice was tough and masculine.

Mick was about saying something when an idea dropped into his mind. He stiffened like a statue, his mouth agape. The idea tripled his nervousness and he felt a strange weakness creep into his legs. What was he doing? He thought, if the police arrived what will be his story? If he told them the truth of the matter he would be tagged a murderer, and murderers get nothing but execution or if he is lucky would be charged with manslaughter and that means ten to twenty years in penitentiary.

“Who is on the line? Say something.” He barely heard the voice from the other end.

“Who are you yelling at Ken?” Mick heard a female voice ask from the background.

“They didn’t say anything. Some freak just dialed our number but wouldn’t say anything. Can you believe that Juliet.” Ken answered. “Hello, are you mute?”

Mick shivered as the words hit his ears, breaking his line of thought. He slammed the receiver back to its cradle violently and moved back from the phone as if it was a ghost.

“Damn.” He cursed; what a foolish mistake he would have made. Even if he escapes execution he definitely would not escape being locked behind bars if the police found out about Ann’s death. He looked across the room to Ann’s body, the sight was sickening. He realized that he was sweating profusely in spite of the air conditioner that was turned on in his sitting room. He felt a lump in his throat and thought he should take a glass of drink. Slowly, on rubbery legs he walked to his liquor cabinet.

Find out about Mick’s next move in the next submission

I am an avid reader and also take great pleasure in putting pen to paper. I believe that with the right expression of words written with my pen people could change for the better and correct or curb some ills eating deep into our system of government or life in general. I write fiction and non-fiction. I would like to work with interested editors and publishers, who would want to publish my work. Please contact me via either of these email addresses: kevingodson@yahoo.com or snag079@yahoo.com. Thank you for lending a helping hand and making a writer out of me.

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