Hi, y'all. This was a class project that I and two other classmates did together last semester. We had just finished reading The Scarlet Letter - nothing like the Easy A movie, mind you - and our goal was to create a little excerpt from the novel that had to deal with the characteristics of Romanticism, since this novel was written during the Romanticism period of literature.

Disclaimer: Not mine, (and also, since this is published later on (by same author of this story), if this shows anything in , I will have proof that this was posted later and was not copied for the assignment.). Sorry. Just had to say that. I don't want an accusation of plagiarism. That wouldn't be good, would it?

Now, off to the story! R&R! =]

The Tarnished Pearl

A dozen leather shoes upon the forest floor left a muffled resonance that momentarily distracted Pearl from her merrymaking with the worms upon the ground; she turned to face her tormentors, who stalked the child through the camouflage of the woodland shadows.

Aware of her discovery, a boy of Puritan descent, chortled, "Ah, the hiding place of Pearl Prynne, the pathetic little demon child whose mother brought such dishonor upon our town and the name of the Puritans!" his comrades sniggered upon this remark, and gripping her by her collared dress, the dust met Pearl's face as he drove the small Pearl into the earth.

Yet another boy looked down upon this little girl and chuckled, "Look at this horrid urchin, so undesired she looks to mere insects for entertainment!"

"She is a worthless illegitimate imp whose mother is nothing less than a corrupt harlot!" snickered a girl to her fellow pompous comrades, quoting her priggish mother and shaking the dust off her feet onto Pearl's squinting face, all the while, the group took turns spitting upon Pearl's face and sneered, "She's just a tainted, misbegotten Pearl!"

Hours seemed to have gone by throughout this event of tormenting and provocation, but finally the sententious group dispersed and sauntered homeward, for their evening meals were awaiting them inside their cottages, Pearl was left lying in the dust, her face as unreadable and emotionless as the grime streaked upon it, until finally, she ascended to her feet and left her wooden refuge for the short journey to the outcast cottage, the outcast cottage in which she has had to spend countless nights wallowing away in misery of her loneliness.

Long after she returned home and the evening dimmed into the darkness of night, Pearl, with her mother fast asleep beside her, lie awake in bed, whispering to the moon. In a careful effort so as to not wake her slumbering mother, she crept closer to the moon and managed to finagle her way out the window, and once having escaped from the cottage, she stared up at the moon and instinctually knew what she must do.

Pearl prowled freely along the route to her wooden haven where her harassment had occurred only hours before, arriving at her brooke that was surrounded by plentiful masses of greenery that caressed the sky as well as the caked dust which carpeted the forest floor. Through the illumination of the affable moon, her anger illuminated with a fiery spark as she managed to make out the footprints and the imprint of her small frame against the dust from earlier in the day when her enemies harassed her. She slinked over to the brooke, and, leaning into the deep, opaque water, sifted through the stones lining the bank of the brook in order to find the largest stone possible.

She clutched an immense stone in both of her arms and made her way over to the abundant greenery, where she spent countless hours of the night entranced in her work, skillfully manipulating sticks and shreds of shrubbery so they would entwine themselves and cooperate unto her own accord. Diligently, she worked until finally, as darkness of the sky blended with the wee slivers of the morning haze, her scheme was now able to be put into action.

Pearl prowled through the woods along the pathway to the Puritan village. Clothed by the remaining dimness of the day, Pearl silently descended back into the village. She heard soft weeping a distance behind her, she misunderstood these for the deep chortles of the Puritan children, however, as she advanced closer toward the wicked sounds, the chortles blended into an intense sob emitted from a heavy heart. Hester had raced to this haven when she noticed the absence of Pearl in the night, and, upon first glance of the stone and slingshot that were elucidated by the light of dawn, she understood the true intentions of her little Pearl.

Hester reached out to Pearl as her body convulsed with her intense sobs. 'Twas a horrid, guilty cry from deep within her soul; Hester was entirely consumed with deepening sobs of shame and responsibility for this monster. As Pearl, still clutching the slingshot, gritted her teeth at her mother, Hester's tears transformed into those of rage. She lunged at Pearl with a desperate necessity to control her child, to reshape her identity to match the childlike innocence that emanated from her dwarfed and faultless face.

"What is this you are doing, my child? We do not consume ourselves with hatred and desire to harm!" chastised Hester as she pulled Pearl close to her. Pearl flung her limbs everywhere in a desperate attempt to repel this embrace. Hester ignored these intentions and forcefully held Pearl against her bosom, she clung to her child, holding her against her own heart as if to will her soul and humanity upon this little demon of a being.

Pearl pierced the soft morning air with a devilish shriek, yelling, "These children are mere imbeciles who mock you, mother, and me!" Pearl struggled against Hester's strong attempt to restrain the crazed child, but Hester's grip clenched tighter and tighter along with her inability to accept this being. She cried hot tears of anger and guilt while she clutched her child, whose screeches and groans continued until Hester was sure that a household a mile away could hear her screams. Hester held on tightly until the belligerent animal collapsed from sheer exhaustion, the slingshot sliding from Pearl's small hands. The fragile child was fast asleep in her mother's arms. With sobs of remaining guilt and newfound relief, she gently laid her child upon the ground. The deliverance from the hostile Pearl created such an exhausting relief that Hester simply collapsed beside her and drifted into a slumber laden with nightmarish culpability.

Thanks for reading! Reviews will mean that you will get cookies sent to your house!

Actually, sorry, that probably won't happen. But you can imagine cookies flown to you by owl. That's what I'd do.