i don't get how to write an essay. i'm doing a eassy on The Flowers By Alice Walker, i need help story inside.
It seem to Myop as she skipped lightly from hen house to pigpen to smokehouse that day had never beens as beautiful as these. The air held a keeness that made her nose twitch. THe harvesting of the corn and cotton, peanuts & squash, made each day a golden surpise that caused excited little tremors to run up her jaws. mypo carries a short, knobby stick. she struck out a random at the chickens she liked, & worked out the beat of a song on the fence around the pigpen. she felt light & good in the warm sun she was tenn, & nothing existed for her but her song, the stick clutched in her dark brown hand, & the tat-de-ta-ta-ta of accompanimant. turning her back on the rusty boards of her family's sharecropper cabin, she walked along the fence till it ram into the steam made by the spring. around the spring, where the family got drinking water, silver ferns & wildflowers grew. along the shallow banks bigs rooted. myop watched the tiny white bubles disrupt the thin black scale soil & the water..
that silently rose & slid waay down the steam. she had explored the woods behindthe house many times. often, in the late fall, her mom took her to gather nuts amoung the fallen leaves. today she made her own path, bouncing this way & that way, vaguely keeping her eye out for snakes. she found, in addition to various common but pretty ferns & leaves, an armful of starnge blue flowers w/velvety ridges & a sweet suds bush full of the brown, frangrany buds. by 12'0clock, her arms laden z/srigs of her findingd, she was a mile or more form home. she had often been as far before, but the strangeness of the land made it not as pleasent as her usual haunts. it seemes gloomy in the lttle cove in which she found herself. the air was damp, the silence close & deep. myop began to circle back to the house, back to the peacefulness of the morning. it was that she steeped smack into his eyes. her heel becamne lodged in the broken ride between brown & nose, & she reached down quikly, unafraid, to .....
free herself. it was only when she saw his naked grin that gave a little yelp of surprise. he had been a tall man. from feet to neck coverd a long space. his head lay beside him. when she pushed back the leaves & layers of earth & debris myop saw that he'd had large white teeth, all of them cracked or broken, long fingers, & ver big bones. all his clothes had rotted away except some threads of blue denim form his overalls. the buckles of the overall had turned green. myop gazed around the spot w/interest. very near where she'd stepped into his head was a wild pink rose. as she picked it to her add to bunddle she noticed a raised mound, a ring, around the rose's root. it was the rotted ramains of a noose, a bit of shreeding plowline, now blending benignly into the soil. around an overhaning limb of a great spreading oak clung another piece. frayed, rotted, bleached, & frazzled barely there-- but spinning restlissly in the breeze. myop laid down her flowers. the summer was over.