Blog Post #2
Continuation of Fahrenheit 451


As Mrs. Phelps walked home from Montag's, she looked up when she heard the the roar of jets from above her. Its melancholy, long withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind... She could not get that poem out of her head. Mrs. Phelps could not stop the constant stream of tears from flowing out. For some reason, she felt worried. And that was not something she did. As she watched the receding lights of the jets, images of Pete kept flashing before her eyes. Mrs. Bowles rubbed her back and whispered reassuring, meaningless words into her ears. But it was as if she wasn't even there. For the first time, Mrs. Phelps realized that she was lonely...

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain...  "It's all true." Mrs. Phelps whispered. She didn't wan't to be lonely anymore. She didn't wan't to be independent anymore. She didn't want to have a fourth marriage. Mrs. Phelps pushed Mrs. Bowles hand off her back and walked faster.
"I will see you later," she said sternly and went on her way. She couldn't stand all of the fake surrounding her. Why hadn't I realized this before? In desperate need for something real, Mrs. Phelps kicked off her fancy fake heals and started to jog to her house. The unfamiliar burn in her lungs was comforting. As the constant stream of tears slowed to a stop, she realized that her "happiness" was just covering up her sadness.

Mrs. Phelps stumbled into her house panting heavily. The hum of the walls filled the house. She forgot to turn them off before she left that night. She walked into the wall room and turned around as she watched the fake smiles look down at her. She went to the main consul and slammed in on the ground. The people on the walls fizzled out into blackness. "Well, thats a start..." Mrs. Phelps said as she walked out of the room and didn't turn back.