Eggers Emulation

Note: This is an emulation of my favorite paragraph of what he have read from Eggers so far. It is located on page five.

My family doesn’t have a style, but my mom has a definitive one and it has shaped how my childhood home has looked for years. In our basement bathroom, which used to be painted a safe, if uninteresting, tan, is the truest sign that my mom dictates the décor of our home. The wallpaper has a red and black plaid border that runs through the middle of the wall, surrounded by a variety of dancing grizzly bears. My mom picked them because they made her laugh and smile and she bases a large amount of her decisions based on whether or not something makes her laugh and smile. We got the wallpaper within a few years of moving into our home and there are three types of dancing bears on the wall: the mother and her cub, the bear with the umbrella and the naked bear. They are brown against tan paint and hang just above and below the red and black plaid border. Some also have leaped near the top of the wall and you can only see them if you are looking. The whole set up is simply horrendous, but it has been around for as long as I can remember and become a source of laughter between everyone but my mom, but it has stayed, a true reminder of who has control of the house décor and what kind of person my mother is.

Dillard Emulation

They watched the sailors pull down their ship’s flag – a near worn Union Jack - surrendering their ship to a group of grimy, foul pirates. The leader of the pirates held his saber up to the captain of the ship, grazing his neck ever so slightly. He then slashed the saber, ending the captain’s life in one moment. A few of the swashbuckling buccaneers readied the plank on the edge of the ship, and one by one, the King’s sailors were walked off the ship, one by one into the blue. Only a young lad, who wasn’t more than seven and had hidden himself away, survived and could watch the madness unfold.

You are that boy, trembling from fear and trying to hide from the pirates. Eventually they find you, dragging you to the edge to show you the men who raised you over the past few months. They were your father at sea. They took you to their ship, throwing you in the dark, cold brig. You stayed there for months, barely hanging on.

Six years later, the ship you are on is raided by some English sailors. You are thirteen now and not the same person. Early on in your time with the pirates, all you wanted for someone English to find you. But by the time one calendar year had passed, and the one people to talk to were the same pirates who took you hostage, you slowly become one of them. You start chewing tobacco. Your one trim hair grows into a long greasy mess. Even your facial hair, not thick enough to be a real beard, is untrimmed.

And when an officer of the Royal Navy comes to take you prisoner, you don’t even think of revealing your origins. Instead you spit on the officer’s shoes, resulting in a slap across your face. But you don’t regret it. You are filthy, juvenile scoundrel. You are that way because that’s all you truly know.