Celia, the main character of The Night Circus, has a fairly static character persona, and is relatively flat. She shows a sense of cowardice, mixed with the stereotypical characteristic of ‘hidden power’. This character show independence once her father passes, and develops the only change in the first third of the book, the ability to think for herself. The character, again and again has been tortured ‘Her father looks up, annoyed. He lifts a heavy glass and brings it down hard on her hand, hard enough to break her wrist with a sharp crack’(p.50). THis sets up a second layer, not quite making her round, but showing that she has another side to her entirely.The main fear she has is who she is ‘competing with’ would be the person she is ‘competing’ with, as they are unknown as well as threatening, using the father as a cross reference point to identify what this challenger might be like. To make this even more memorable, it is shown with a scar made from a ring put on her finger when she was quite young. They way she handles her battles are passive, and are in no way close to how I would react, given the abusive scenario she is placed in “‘And for christ’s sake, stop crying,’ her father calls after her” (p.50).
Prompt: The puppy was a terror
I arrived home an took off my shoes, standing near the closet. A minuscule high pitched sound could be heard emanating from the corridor to my left. I hesitantly leaned over to find a hallway masqueraded as a pig sty. The walls were now a mix of mud and stones, plastered to the sides, nearly irremovable. Carefully placing my feet to avoid the mess, I made it into the living room. For as bad as the halls were, they were dwarfed compared to this room. The ‘pillows’ were in shreds, strewn across the room, with pages of encyclopedias and novels amongst them. The chair and sofa could be mistaken for a massive fluffy bunny, partially for the look, but also for the fact that it looked as though it had been bouncing around the room. There were holes all over the walls and paw-prints everywhere. Sitting in the middle, clean as a whistle was my golden retriever, head cocked to the side as though it didn’t quite understand my crushed appearance. I picked the dog up and put it in the backyard with food and water. Of course, I couldn’t stay mad at it for long, I would eventually let it back in, even if my puppy is a complete terror.