Smallen, Smallend Definition

Did you know that smallen/ smallend is an actrual word?

It is and it is commonly used as a slang, but it may be shocking the word smallen actually exists in dictionaries. So next time you chat, don't say shrink, say SMALLEN!!!!!!!

Definition: To make something smaller.

As in: I need to smallen that picture.

Welcome!

Hello! I have created this blog as asked by my english teacher, for an ISU(Independent Study Unit) to analyse one of the texts we read in school. I have chosen "The Sniper" by Liam O'Flaherty, a short story about a young Republican fighting in a civil war. I will be relating and comparing an image, a video and an article to the text.

Image from: http://www.thejump.net/humor/sniper.jpg

Image Comparison

The picture on the left relates very well to the short story "The Sniper". The picture shows a person holding a sniper and a cigarette. The picture could be directly related to the story because the character in the picture is like the main character in the story, standing alone in the darkness, smoking. The shadowy effect of the person could also be related to the text as it shows that in war, you won't know who your enemies are and your enemies won't know who you are. This relates to the story because in the story, the sniper faces another sniper and ends up killing his opponent only to find that his enemy was his own brother.

Image from: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvnvDxttxlf-ZwXm0mejGzC7fDUojzqxoICV_L3JDVUzc-mQjwjKwKFeepZggF5ArqRYb2qbZ6zTyCwZ9hN-SF5SM0AhYk-vFXXpWqilfZJoMDDP0fWTH9vPt6OelxddufNA36WS2xs9NN/s1600-h/sniper_by_genocidalpenguin.jpg

Newspaper Article Comparison

Article could be found here:

http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=990DE3DE163CE433A25752C1A9639C946197D6CF

This article relates to the story because they are both about murdering of one's own family members. In the article, a young boy accidentally kills his own father and this could be related to the text because in the text the sniper didn't know that he was trying to kill his own brother, making the murder of his brother "accidental" since that was not his intention. At the same time, these two texts are also relatively different. In the newspaper, the boy actually intended to point a shotgun at his own father when the shotgun fired by accident, therefor the boy was sort of "asking for it" to happen (there is also no proof that the boy was telling the truth). In the story though, the brother definitely had no intentions of killing his brother. Also the setting for for both texts are very different, as the setting in the story is at night in the middle of a war, and the sniper had no choice but to shoot the enemy since it was do-or-die. Where as in the article, the boy was being foolish by threatening his father with a shotgun when he had the choice of not to.

Article from: http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=990DE3DE163CE433A25752C1A9639C946197D6CF

Video Comparison

The following is a short clip from the movie "The Bourne Ultimatum"

A Brief Description About the Bourne Series
In the Bourne movie series, a former assassin who worked for the CIA known as Jason Bourne (real name: David Webb) had lost his memory while on an assassination mission. During the Bourne series, his memories haunt him as he tries to uncover his past.

A Brief Description About The Video (Above)
The video above is a short clip from the movie "The Bourne Ultimatum" . The video shows Simon Rose (the person who got shot in the head by the sniper) being attacked because he knows about the top secret assassination program in the CIA. Jason Bourne (the person who protects Simon) is trying to find out who gave Simon the information about the assassination program so that he could uncover his past. As the CIA finds out that Bourne is there helping Simon, they believe he is the source providing Simon with the information and immediately orders another assassin to take them both out.

In the video, a sniper was given instructions to take out 2 people. He didn't know anything about the two people that he had to kill, nor did he know why he has to kill them and all he got was a photo of what they looked like. This relates to the text because just like in war, you're forced to take a side and you will have to stick with it and kill whoever is on the other side, even if you don't know who they are or what they did. Like in the story, the sniper didn't know he was shooting at his own brother, all he knew was that he had to kill him. The difference between the video and the story is however, that the sniper in the video at least got a photo was who he was supposed to kill. This way he could recognize if the person was one of his family member.

Video exclusively edited and posted by Gary

The Sniper by Liam O'Flaherty

The long June twilight faded into night. Dublin lay enveloped in darkness but for the dim light of the moon that shone through fleecy clouds, casting a pale light as of approaching dawn over the streets and the dark waters of the Liffey. Around the beleaguered Four Courts the heavy guns roared. Here and there through the city, machine guns and rifles broke the silence of the night, spasmodically, like dogs barking on lone farms. Republicans and Free Staters were waging civil war.

On a rooftop near O'Connell Bridge, a Republican sniper lay watching. Beside him lay his rifle and over his shoulders was slung a pair of field glasses. His face was the face of a student, thin and ascetic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of the fanatic. They were deep and thoughtful, the eyes of a man who is used to looking at death.

He was eating a sandwich hungrily. He had eaten nothing since morning. He had been too excited to eat. He finished the sandwich, and, taking a flask of whisky from his pocket, he took a short drought. Then he returned the flask to his pocket. He paused for a moment, considering whether he should risk a smoke. It was dangerous. The flash might be seen in the darkness, and there were enemies watching. He decided to take the risk.

Placing a cigarette between his lips, he struck a match, inhaled the smoke hurriedly and put out the light. Almost immediately, a bullet flattened itself against the parapet of the roof. The sniper took another whiff an put out the cigarette. Then he swore softly and crawled away to the left.

Cautiously he raised himself and peered over the parapet. There was a flash and a bullet whizzed over his head. He dropped immediately. He had seen the flash. It came from the opposite side of the street.

He rolled over the roof to a chimney stack in the rear, and slowly drew himself up behind it, until his eyes were level with the top of the parapet. There was nothing to be seen--just the dim outline of the opposite housetop against the blue sky. His enemy was under cover.

Just then an armored car came across the bridge and advanced slowly up the street. It stopped on the opposite side of the street, fifty yards ahead. The sniper could hear the dull panting of the motor. His heart beat faster. It was an enemy car. He wanted to fire, but he knew it was useless. His bullets would never pierce the steel that covered the gray monster.

Then round the corner of a side street came an old woman, her head covered by a tattered shawl. She began to talk to the man in the turret of the car. She was pointing to the roof where the sniper lay. An informer.

The turret opened. A man's head and shoulders appeared, looking toward the sniper. The sniper raised his rifle and fired. The head fell heavily on the turret wall. The woman darted toward the side street. The sniper fired again. The woman whirled round and fell with a shriek into the gutter.

Suddenly from the opposite roof a shot rang out and the sniper dropped his rifle with a curse. The rifle clattered to the roof. The sniper thought the noise would wake the dead. He stooped to pick the rifle up. He couldn't lift it. His forearm was dead. "I'm hit," he muttered.

Dropping flat onto the roof, he crawled back tot the parapet. With his left hand he felt the injured right forearm. The blood was oozing through the sleeve of his coat. There was no pain--just a deadened sensation, as if the arm had been cut off.

Quickly he drew his knife from his pocket, opened it on the breastwork of the parapet, and ripped open the sleeve. There was a small hole where the bullet had entered. On the other side there was not hole. The bullet had lodged in the bone. It must have fractured it. He bent the arm below the wound. the arm bent back easily. He ground his teeth overcome the pain.

Then taking out his field dressing, he ripped open the packet with his knife. He broke the neck of the iodine bottle and let the bitter fluid drip into the wound. A paroxysm of pain swept through him. He placed the cotton wadding over the wound and wrapped the dressing over it. He tied the ends with his teeth.

Then he lay still against the parapet, and, closing his eyes, he made an effort of will to overcome the pain.

In the street beneath all was still. The armored car had retired speedily over the bridge, with the machine gunner's head hanging lifeless over the turret. The woman's corpse lay still in the gutter.

The sniper lay still for a long time nursing his wounded arm and planning escape. Morning must not find him wounded on the roof. The enemy on the opposite roof coverd his escape. He must kill that enemy and he could not use his rifle. He had only a revolver to do it. Then he thought of a plan.

Taking off his cap, he placed it over the muzzle of his rifle. Then he pushed the rifle slowly upward over the parapet, until the cap was visible from the opposite side of the street. Almost immediately there was a report, and a bullet pierced the center of the cap. The sniper slanted the rifle forward. The cap clipped down into the street. Then catching the rifle in the middle, the sniper dropped his left hand over the roof and let it hang, lifelessly. After a few moments he let the rifle drop to the street. Then he sank to the roof, dragging his hand with him.

Crawling quickly to his feet, he peered up at the corner of the roof. His ruse had succeeded. The other sniper, seeing the cap and rifle fall, thought that he had killed his man. He was now standing before a row of chimney pots, looking across, with his head clearly silhouetted against the western sky.

The Republican sniper smiled and lifted his revolver above the edge of the parapet. The distance was about fifty yards--a hard shot in the dim light, and his right arm was paining him like a thousand devils. He took a steady aim. His hand trembled with eagerness. Pressing his lips together, he took a deep breath through his nostrils and fired. He was almost deafened with the report and his arm shook with the recoil.

Then when the smoke cleared, he peered across and uttered a cry of joy. His enemy had been hit. He was reeling over the parapet in his death agony. He struggled to keep his feet, but he was slowly falling forward as if in a dream. The rifle fell from his grasp, hit the parapet, fell over, bounded off the pole of a barber's shop beneath and then clattered on the pavement.

Then the dying man on the roof crumpled up and fell forward. The body turned over and over in space and hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it lay still.

The sniper looked at his enemy falling and he shuddered. The lust of battle died in him. He became bitten by remorse. The sweat stood out in beads on his forehead. Weakened by his wound and the long summer day of fasting and watching on the roof, he revolted from the sight of the shattered mass of his dead enemy. His teeth chattered, he began to gibber to himself, cursing the war, cursing himself, cursing everybody.

He looked at the smoking revolver in his hand, and with an oath he hurled it to the roof at his feet. The revolver went off with a concussion and the bullet whizzed past the sniper's head. He was frightened back to his senses by the shock. His nerves steadied. The cloud of fear scattered from his mind and he laughed.

Taking the whiskey flask from his pocket, he emptied it a drought. He felt reckless under the influence of the spirit. He decided to leave the roof now and look for his company commander, to report. Everywhere around was quiet. There was not much danger in going through the streets. He picked up his revolver and put it in his pocket. Then he crawled down through the skylight to the house underneath.

When the sniper reached the laneway on the street level, he felt a sudden curiosity as to the identity of the enemy sniper whom he had killed. He decided that he was a good shot, whoever he was. He wondered did he know him. Perhaps he had been in his own company before the split in the army. He decided to risk going over to have a look at him. He peered around the corner into O'Connell Street. In the upper part of the street there was heavy firing, but around here all was quiet.

The sniper darted across the street. A machine gun tore up the ground around him with a hail of bullets, but he escaped. He threw himself face downward beside the corpse. The machine gun stopped.

Then the sniper turned over the dead body and looked into his brother's face.

Short story source: http://www.classicshorts.com/stories/sniper.html
Photo from http://www.defenseindustrydaily.com/images/ELEC_AN-PVS-22_Night_Sight_View_lg.jpg