Sometimes as humans we thoroughly enjoy and, in many cases, expect to hear exactly to what we want to. I can count numerous times in my life in which I wish that someone would have simply told me what I wanted to hear simply to ease the pain that came with the truth. Such was the case of "The Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" by Ambrose Bierce. Throughout the course of this short story I found myself enthralled by the plight of the poor Peyton Farquhar. While reading this very visual and graphic piece I found myself not on a reader of this tale of woe but also a participant actively engaged in the fate of this man. I believe that this is true of most stories. Once we learn who the characters are we begin to attach ourselves and invest a piece of ourselves within them. I know that this was definitely the case with Peyton Farquhar. As he clung to the last bits of life hoping and praying to survivor I found myself pulling very strongly for the life of this man. And once the noose had been released from his neck and his escape made, I felt as if a weight had been lifted off of me. I began to feel as if I was the one who had just escaped from the precipice of death. However, this abruptly ended with a shot and flash. Dead was Peyton Farquhar and dead was I. All along I had been strung along. Given false hope that there may come good in what seemed to by a bottomless pit of peril and dismay. Its as if the literal noose around the neck of Farquhar had been placed around my psyche; slowly tightening until an ultimate end was reached and all hope is lost.
I couldn't bring myself to understand why that had happened. Why did I ultimately succumb to the belief that everything would be fine in the case of Peyton Farquhar? Why is it in my nature to believe every word that is spoon fed to me through optimistic and promising diction? As I read the aforementioned passage again the zeal and excitement of the escape fade and are replaced by dismal feelings of disappointment at what I know to be the denouement. I guess what I can take from this experience is that all that glitters is not gold and the truth really does hurt.
As to your question, "Why did I ultimately succumb to the belief that everything would be fine in the case of Peyton Farquhar?", I believe it is human nature to want the best outcome for others. But this is also based on the situation we are given. If this story had been written to make a Yankee soldier the protagonist, our emotions would empathize with him and the hanging of Peyton Farquhar would have more positive emotions tied to it. Couldn't it be possible then for people's minds to be exposed to the truth and cope with any pain this brings along by looking at the event in another angle? It seems as though one way to stop the truth from hurting is to distance the mind from the situation and see it in a more objective light; to give up the emotions we feel and what I believe makes us human.
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