Wuthering Heights, By Emma Baxandall - 1682 Words

Wuthering Heights Creative, by Emma Baxandall. 11 Literature, 10NS. The weather was beautiful today, and Harriet Earnshaw hated it. Truly, she hated most things, at the moment. Despite her condemnations, the sun sent saffron whispers, travelling through the winds and planting soft summertime kisses on her lips. The river hummed gentle lullabies, singing in mellifluous rifts and delicates lilts. It was all she could do not to fall asleep. It was a winter morning, the promise of Christmas and celebration in the horizon, and something else too, but Harriet tried not to think about that. About her fiancà ©. Despite the calendar, winter had not shown his crooked face in many years, and Wuthering Heights was blessed with a summer of gentle†¦show more content†¦She wanted to scream, it’s 1823 now, we aren’t living in the past!, but alas, she knew it would be futile. She had tried everything to stop the wedding to Blake Summerfield, sobbing and begging, stealing and screaming, debating and hiding. This only added to her parents conviction that she ought to find a husband. Her father, usually boisterous and hearty, fell quiet as he reminded Harry that they were getting old now. They needed a young man to help, they needed the money. And Blake was very nice. Well, that was the problem. He was very nice. Very diplomatic, polite, correct and fair. He was not outlandish, or shocking or even funny. In fact, Harriet thought with a small smile, he wasn’t even handsome. â€Å"Mama, can we talk about this tomorrow? I cannot stand to think about it at this hour.† Cathy’s eyes flashed for a second, her charming nature betrayed by her empowered one. â€Å"You ought to be happy. When I was but your age my husband was not nearly so kind.† Still, her mother wondered off, the past covering her eyes like blindness. Harriet returned to the window. In the distance, moors teased her, their forlorn howls begging to be heard. Raising her fingers to the glass, the girl was begging to listen. Smash! The glass shattered, leaving her fingers bloodied. Staring in shock, Harry gaped where the window once was, and couldn’t figure out why it had crumpled. But something else soon took over that notion. â€Å"Harrrriettt,† the wind called. She