Case Study (2 Questions) Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

(2 Questions) - Case Study Example Companies that survive under this market depended on maintaining their commercial buyers who specialized in handicrafts. Additionally, to survive in the market firms needs to carry out large exports. The market under which the ExpoArte operate has variety of distribution channels that occur within the US and the European market. The common wholesale and the retail importers being ATO. The department store regarded themselves as both the retailers and the importers selling their products at a considerable high price (NICARAGUA, n.d.). This departmental store serves the higher segment of the market. Firms that concentrated in importing their purchased products sold them to domestic and regional retailers who later sold them at a higher markup. The retail importers manage to sell their stores to the public. Based on the market analysis, ExpoArte need to focus on their generation of profits until they secure their bottom line. The company needs to embrace product differentiation and impl ementation of economics of scale to increase their sales. The company also needs to cut down on their operational cost and increase their profits. This will help the company to strategize on passing their production costs off to their artisans. The company also need to come up with a new management culture. The new management culture will incorporate setting up appropriate organizational structure that will safeguard every aspect of the company’s operation. This will entail setting up operation managers in each department within the company. The move will help the company improve and distribute their administrative power efficiently. The company also needs to focus on their website for market, the website will help the company to expand their advertising strategy. The strategy will help the company market itself beyond its stakeholders. Financial forecasting and encouraging their clients to pay a higher percentage for their upfront will be important. The strategy will help th e

International market unit one DB Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

International market unit one DB - Essay Example Cultural Exchange: we are a global village and though we come from different cultures and background interaction through education waters down this difference, this is especially so when the same curriculum is used by people in with different background. Economic status: there is an up rise in the number of people in middle level social strata, this group would want to have the best and this has increased the demand for Edutot for their children as they seek to give them the best (Zou & Fu, 2011). Preparing children for pre-school has always been the mission, this is done through the creation of an environment that stimulates mental development where children are allowed to participate and develop an all-round intellectual persona. Every child is unique and should be free to learn through educational play activities to help them develop Mühlbacher, Dahringer & Leihs, 2006). The factors on globalization, cultural exchange and economic status are seen as universal, though legal factors are not. Some countries require that children at kindergarten have a curriculum which incorporates Edutot developmental issues but in other areas implementation of this would be difficult because of difference in curriculum and education development funding (Mühlbacher, Dahringer & Leihs, 2006). Target market and mission statement are similar because the main mission is the development of children before preschool by providing them with positive developmental but the ability to grow their unique abilities while still

Thomsons Argument Of The Trolley Problem Philosophy Essay

Thomsons Argument Of The Trolley Problem Philosophy Essay A utilitarian is concerned with providing the greatest happiness for the greatest amount of people, so in this first case a utilitarian would agree with Thomson and would say that it is mandatory to pull the lever and save the greater number of people. An opposing view would say that pulling the lever constitutes as a moral wrong, and would make the bystander partially responsible for the death. One has a moral obligation to get involved in these cases just by being present in the scenario and being able to change the outcome. Deciding to do nothing would be considered an immoral act if one values five lives more than one. In the first case, the bystander does not intend to harm anyone; the harm will be done regardless of which way the trolley goes. In the second case, pushing and harming the large man is the only way to save the five people on the trolley. in contrast, Thomson argues that a key distinction between the first trolley problem and the second case is that in the first case, you simply redirect the harm, but in the second case, you actually have to do something to the large man to save the five workers. Thomson states that in the first case, no worker has more of a right than the other not to be killed, but in the second case, the large man does have a right not to be pushed over the bridge, violating his right to life. To put the first trolley case in a different perspective I will present a similar case. Something has gone terribly wrong on an airplane and is inevitably about to crash and is heading straight to a heavily populated area. The airplane pilot knows that regardless innocent people will die so he turns the plane towards a less populated area, killing less innocent people. Was the pilots action to steer the plane in a different direction morally permissible? Thomson would say that the pilots actions were correct, because the greater populated are has the same right to live as the less populated area, and you are merely deflecting the harm to kill less people which is morally permissible because no rights have been violated. Thomson presents an alternative case to the second trolley problem to better illustrate her argument. In this case, a surgeon has 5 patients that are all in need of organ transplants, and they will die without the organ, but since they all have a rare blood type there are no organs available. A traveler comes into the office for a check up, and the doctor discovers that this traveler has the necessary organs that could save these five dying patients. The doctor asks the traveler if he would donate and but he sincerely declines. Would it be morally permissible for the doctor to kill the bystander and operate anyway? Thomson would argue that it is not permissible to operate on the traveler, because the doctor would be violating his right to life. This differs from the first trolley case because in the first case you are simply deflecting the harm as opposed to the second trolley case, and the transplant case, you have to act and do something to an innocent person in order to save the f ive people. In the first case none of the workers have more of a right than the other not to be killed, but in the second case the large man has a right not to be killed. In the transplant case, a utilitarian is concerned with the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people, so just like in the first case where a utilitarian would say to pull the lever to kill one and save five, he would do the same in the transplant case to kill one and save five. Thomson disagrees and states that in the first case killing one is a side effect of killing five, in the transplant case you are violating a persons right where the act could have been avoided to begin with. Thomson states that killing is worse a death caused by letting someone die. In the first trolley case it would seem rational to agree that the person is morally obligated to pull the lever and save the five people. In the second case, the person should not be forced to push the large man onto the track because in this case he is killing the man to save the others where as in the first case it is inevitably one or the other. It would also seem rational that the doctor should not kill the man for the transplant because it is similar to the second case. Although in every case you are sacrificing one to save five, there are situations where it is not morally permissible to kill the one person, such as the second case and the transplant case. In these case the persons right to life is violated, and therefore would make it morally permissible to kill them. In order for Thomson to justify her opinions she needs to identify the differences in both cases that is strong enough to make a valid argument. In short, Thomson identifies that in both cases there is an innocent bystander who is not responsible in any of the events, but has the opportunity to get involved in order to save five people instead of the one. She assumes that there is no relationship or tension at all between the bystander and the workers so he has a clear mind on what his decision should be. Thomson states that we need to focus on the rights of the people as a means to an end relationship between the bystander and the workers. She argues that in both cases the bystander does wrong to the person whose life he chooses to sacrifice, but in the second case where the bystander pushes the large man, there is a direct violation of his rights. By performing the act of pushing, the bystander is directly violating on the large mans right not to be killed. This differs from the fi rst case where the bystander pulls a lever to kill one and save five, because it does not violate the single workers rights; diverting a train does not violate anyones rights, but pushing an innocent man does. Thomson feels that this explains why the bystander is allowed to intervene by pulling the lever because the bystander can maximize the utility without violating anyones rights, whereas in the second case, in order to maximize utility the bystander would have to violate someones rights. The problem arises that in the first case, although the bystander is not directly violating the single workers right, he is indirectly violating his right not to be killed. Thomson replies to this concern by saying that although this is true but it being direct or indirect is not relevant when a persons right not to be killed is concerned.

Personal Narrative- High School and Church Youth Group Essay -- Person

Personal Narrative- High School and Church Youth Group The most distinguishing and memorable moment of my life was entering high school for the first time. I feel that the event of starting high school was the starting point of what kind of person I was going to become. Not only did I start going to a new kind of school, but I started attending the high school youth group at my church. I also had the privilege to start working on my first car. Without this experience, I feel that I would not be where I am right now. This memorable moment started with my transition to the high school youth group at church. Moving up to the high school group at my church was exciting yet frightening. Fortunately, I was welcomed with great joy and fellowship. I got involved in the activities very quickly. I made many friends, which gave me an incentive to actually go to church. I went on two mission trips before starting school. This helped me to see God work through me and through my youth group. Within our youth group, we had a youth choir called Deliverance. Because of my involvement in that ...

Heat of Solidification Lab-Writeup

Introduction In chemistry, substances require a certain amount of energy in the form of average kinetic energy (temperature) to freeze. To reach the temperature a substance requires to freeze, it must lose a certain amount of heat energy (a form of energy transferred from one object to another, because of a temperature difference). When a substance reaches its freezing point and begins to freeze, its temperature remains constant until it is completely frozen.However, in order to melt a substance must go through a energy change, creating the problem, â€Å"What energy changes occur when a liquid solidifies? †. To solve the problem, a hypothesis was proposed, stating â€Å"When a substance begins to solidify, it releases heat energy, because a substance must reach its heat of solidification (heat required to freeze) by losing a certain amount of heat, in order to solidify†. In order to test this hypothesis, a experiment was performed. Materials and MethodsIn the experimen t, the materials required were 1 wax sample in a test tube with the weight of the test tube labeled, a 250 mL beaker, a ringstand, a wire gauze, a graduated cylinder, a Bunsen Burner, a styrofoam calorimeter, and a thermometer. To perform the experiment, first the calorimeter was filled with 100 mL of water using a graduated cylinder, and the temperature of the water was found and recorded. Next, the beaker was filled 3/4 full with water and placed on the stand of the ringstand above a gently burning flame from the Bunsen Burner.Then, the mass of the test tube and wax was found and recorded, and the tube was placed in the beaker. After the wax in the tube melted, the tube was placed in the calorimeter, using a wire gauze. Lastly, once the wax in the tube solidified, the temperature of the water in the calorimeter was measured and recorded. Results Data Recorded During Experiment Mass wax and test tube41. 2 gramsTemperature water after heating26 ? C Mass empty test tube21. 0 gramsTem perature water before heating16 ? C Mass wax20. 2 gramsTemperature change10 ? CVolume water used100 mLMass of water used100 grams In the data table above, the mass of the wax was found by subtracting the mass of the empty test tube from the mass of the wax and test tube, giving an answer of 20. 2 g. To find the volume of water used, the mass of the water was multiplied by the density of the water, giving an answer of 100 g. To find the temperature change of the water, the temperature of the water after heating was subtracted by the temperature of the water before heating, giving an answer of 10 ? C. CalculationsAfter the experiment, the heat gained by the water from the wax in the calorimeter was calculated using the formula q = mC? T, where C equaled 4. 18 J/g * ? C. After the corresponding values were plugged in, the equation: 100g(4. 18 J/g * ? C. )(26? C-16? C) was created and solved for an answer of 4180 J of heat gained. After the amount of heat gained was found, the heat rele ased per gram of wax (heat of solidification) was calculated using the equation: 4180 J/20. 2g, giving an answer of 206. 93 J released per gram of wax.Although the heat released per gram of wax, found through the calculations, was 206. 93 J, the accepted value was 150. 0 J/g, because of this, the percent error was calculated using the formula:(measured – actualactual)100. After the values were plugged in, giving the equation:(206. 93 J/g – 150. 0 J/g150. 0 J/g)100, the percent error was found to be 38%. Discussion After the results were found, a conclusion was drawn up supporting the hypothesis. In the experiment, the temperature of the water increased from 16 ? C to 26 ? C after the wax solidified.This showed that the wax must have released heat energy, in order to cause the temperature of the water to change, due to temperature requiring heat to change. In a experiment, there are many different possible sources of scientific error. In the experiment that was preforme d, two possible sources of error were determined. The first source of error found was, the thermometer may have miss-measured the temperature of the water after the wax solidified, too high or low, which would have caused the heat of solidification to be too high or low.The other source of error was the wax may not have fully solidified, which would have made the heat of solidification too low, due to the wax not fully releasing its heat energy. To better understand the experiment that was preformed, summery questions were asked. The first question asked was, â€Å"The heat of combustion of wax is 45,000 J/g. Explain why there is such a large difference between the heat of solidification and heat of combustion in terms of the type of change†.To answer the question, a response was made: â€Å"Due to the heat of combustion of wax being the heat released from the chemical reaction between oxygen and wax, it is a chemical change and because the heat of solidification of wax is a physical change and chemical changes release a significantly larger amount of heat then physical changes, the heat of combustion of wax releases a much larger amount of heat†. The second question asked was â€Å"The amount of heat released by the solidifying was is equal in magnitude to the amount of heat that the wax absorbed when it melted.Explain why this is so in terms of the arrangement of molecules in liquids vs. solids†. To respond to this question the response: â€Å"In order to change the arrangement of molecules from a solid to a liquid state, the wax must absorb a certain amount of heat and in order to return to a solid state, it must release the energy it absorbed. In the last question, the following was asked: â€Å"Predict the effect of the change in the mass of the wax used or volume of water in the calorimeter on the following parameters.Assume all variables remain constant other then the one listed. If twice the amount of wax or half the amount of wa ter was used in the experiment, how would the temperature, heat absorbed by the water and the calculated heat of solidification change. Explain your predictions for the heat of solidification†. In the answer responding to the question, it was stated, â€Å"both the temperature and heat absorbed by the water would increase, however the heat of solidification would stay the same, due to the wax continuing to release the same amount of heat per gram of wax.

Carrie Chapter Two

‘I'm sure she'll be all right,' she said. ‘Carrie only has to go over to Carlin Street. The fresh air will do her good.' Morton gave the girl the yellow slip. ‘You can go now, Cassie,' he said magnanimously. ‘That's not my name!' she screamed suddenly. Morton recoiled, and Miss Desjardin jumped as if struck from behind. The heavy ceramic ashtray on Morton's desk (it was Rodin's Thinker with his head turned into a receptacle for cigarette butts) suddenly toppled to the rug, as if to take cover from the force of her scream. Butts and flakes of Morton's pipe tobacco scattered on the pale-green nylon rug. ‘Now, listen,' Morton said, trying to muster sternness, ‘I know you're upset, but that doesn't mean I'll stand for-‘ ‘Please,' Miss Desjardin said quietly. Morton blinked at her and then nodded curtly. He tried to project the image of a lovable John Wayne figure while performing the disciplinary functions that were his main job as Assistant Principal, but did not succeed very well. The administration (usually represented at Jay Cee suppers, P.T.A. functions, and American Legion award ceremonies by Principal Henry Grayle) usually termed him ‘lovable Mort.' The student body was more apt to term him ‘that crazy ass-jabber from the office.' But, as few students such as Billy deLois and Henry Trennant spoke at P.T.A. functions or town meetings, the administration's view tended to carry the day. Now lovable Mort, still secretly nursing his jammed thumb, smiled at Carrie and said, ‘Go along then if you like, Miss Wright. Or would you like to sit a spell and just collect yourself?' ‘I'll go,' she muttered, and swiped at her hair. She got up, then looked around at Miss Desjardin. Her eyes were wide open and dark with knowledge. ‘They laughed at me. Threw things. They've always laughed,' Desjardin could only look at her helplessly. Carrie left. For a moment there was silence; Morton and Desjardin watched her go. Then, with an awkward throat-clearing sound, Mr Morton hunkered down carefully and began to sweep together the debris from the fallen ashtray. ‘What was that all about?' She sighed and looked at the drying maroon hand-print on her shorts with distaste. ‘She got her period. Her first period. In the shower.' Morton cleared his throat again and his cheeks went pink. The sheet of paper he was sweeping with moved even faster. ‘Isn't she a bit, uh-‘ ‘Old for her first? Yes. That's what made it so traumatic for her. Although I can't understand why her mother†¦' The thought trailed off, forgotten for the moment. ‘I don't think I handled it very well, Morty, but I didn't understand what was going on. She thought she was bleeding to death.' He stared up sharply. ‘I don't believe she knew there was such a thing as menstruation until half an hour ago.' ‘Hand me that little brush there, Miss Desjardin. Yes, that's it.' She handed him a little brush with the legend Chamberlain Hardware and Lumber Company NEVER Brushes You Off written up the handle. He began to brush his pile of ashes on to the paper. ‘There's still going to be some for the vacuum cleaner, I guess. This deep pile is miserable. I thought I set that ashtray back on the desk further. Funny how things fall over.' He bumped his head on the desk and sat up abruptly. ‘It's hard for me to believe that a girl in this or any other high school could get through three years and still be alien to the fact of menstruation, Miss Desjardin.' ‘It's even more difficult for me, she said. ‘But it's all I can think of to explain her reaction. And she's always been a group scapegoat.' ‘Urn.' He funnelled the ashes and butts into the wastebasket and dusted his hands. ‘I've placed her, I think. White. Margaret White's daughter. Must be. That makes it a little easier to believe.' He sat down behind his desk and smiled apologetically. ‘There's so many of them. After five years or so, they all start to merge into one group face. You call boys by their brother's names, that type of thing. It's hard.' ‘Of course it is.' ‘Wait 'til you've been in the game twenty years, like me,' he said morosely, looking down at his blood blister. ‘You get kids that look familiar and find out you had their daddy the year you started teaching. Margaret White was before my time, for which I am profoundly grateful. She told Mrs Bicente, God rest her, that the Lord was reserving a special burning seat in hell for her because she gave the kids an outline of Mr Darwin's beliefs on evolution. She was suspended twice while she was here – once for beating a classmate with her purse. Legend has it that Margaret saw the classmate smoking a cigarette. Peculiar religious views. Very peculiar.' His John Wayne expression suddenly snapped down. ‘The other girls. Did they really laugh at her?' ‘Worse. They were yelling and throwing sanitary napkins at her when I walked in. Throwing them like.. like peanuts.' ‘Oh. Oh, dear.' John Wayne disappeared. Mr Morton went scarlet. ‘You have names?' ‘Yes. Not all of them, although some of them may rat on the rest. Christine Hargensen appeared to be the ringleader †¦ as usual.' ‘Chris and her Mortimer Snurds,' Morton murmured. ‘Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Fern, Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw. And Sue Snell.' She frowned. ‘You wouldn't expect a trick like that from Sue. She's never seemed the type for this kind of a – stunt.' ‘Did you talk to the girls involved?' Miss Desjardin chuckled unhappily. ‘I got them the hell out of there. I was too flustered. And Carrie was having hysterics.' ‘Um.' He steepled his fingers. ‘Do you plan to talk to them?' ‘Yes.' But she sounded reluctant. ‘Do I detect a note of-‘ ‘You probably do,' she said glumly. ‘I'm living in a glass house, see. I understand how those girls felt. The whole thing just made me want to take the girl and shake her. Maybe-there's some kind of instinct about menstruation that makes women want to snarl. I don't know. I keep seeing Sue Snell and the way she looked.' ‘Um,' Mr Morton repeated wisely. He did not understand women and had no urge at all to discuss menstruation. ‘I'll talk to them tomorrow,' she promised, rising. ‘Rip them down one side and up the other.' ‘Good. Make the punishment suit the crime. And if you feel you have to send any of them to, ah, to me, feel free-‘ ‘I will,' she said kindly. ‘By the way, a light blew out while I was trying to calm her down. It added the final touch.' ‘I'll send a janitor right down,' he promised. ‘And thanks for doing your best, Miss Desjardin. Will you have Miss Fish send in Billy and Henry?' ‘Certainly.' She left. He leaned back and let the whole business slide out of his mind. When Billy deLois and Henry Trennant, classcutters extraordinaire, slunk in, he glared at them happily and prepared to talk tough. As he often told Hank Grayle, he ate class-cutters for lunch. Graffiti scratched on a desk in Chamberlain Junior High School: Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, but Carrie While eats shit. She walked down Ewin Avenue and crosssed over to Carlin at the stoplight on the corner. Her head was down and she was trying to think of nothing. Cramps came and went in great, gripping waves, making her slow down and speed up like a car with carburettor trouble. She stared at the sidewalk. Quartz glittering in the cement. Hop-scotch grids scratched in ghostly, rain-faded chalk. Wads of gum stamped flat. Pieces of tinfoil and penny-candy wrappers. They all hate and they never stop. They never get tired of it. A penny lodged in a crack. She kicked it. Imagine Chris Hargensen all bloody and screaming for mercy. With rats crawling all over her face. Good. Good. That would be good. A dog turd with a foot-track in the middle of it. A roll of blackened caps that some kid had banged with a stone. Cigarette butts. Crash in her head with a rock, with a boulder. Crash in all their hearts. Good. Good. (saviour Jesus meek and mild) That was good for Momma, all right for her. She didn't have to go among the wolves every day of every year, out into a carnival of laughers, joke-tellers, pointers, snickerers. And didn't Momma say there would be a Day of Judgment. (the name of that star shall be wormwood and they shall be scourged with scorpions) and an angel with a sword? If only it would be today and Jesus coming not with a lamb and a shepherd's crook, but with a boulder on each hand to crush the laughters and the snickerers, to root out the evil and destroy it screaming – a terrible Jesus of blood and righteousness. And if only she could be His sword and His arm. She had tried to fit. She had defied Momma in a hundred little ways, had tried to erase the red-plague circle that had been drawn around her from the first day she had left the controlled environment of the small house on Carlin Street and had walked up to the Baker Street Grammar School with her Bible under her arm. She could still remember that day, the stares, and the sudden, awful silence when she had gotten down on her knees before lunch in the school cafeteria-the laughter had begun on that day and had echoed up through the years. The red-plague circle was like blood itself-you could scrub and scrub and scrub and still it would be there, not erased, not clean. She had never gotten on her knees in a public place again, although she had not told Momma that. Still, the original memory remained, with her and with them. She had fought Momma tooth and nail over the Christian Church Camp, and had earned the money to go herself by taking in sewing. Momma told her darkly that it was Sin, that it was Methodists and Baptists and Congregationalists and that it was Sin and Backsliding. She forbade Carrie to swim at the camp. Yet although she had swum and had laughed when they ducked her (until she couldn't get her breath any more and they kept doing it and she got panicky and began to scream) and had tried to take part in the camp's activities, a thousand practical jokes had been played on ol' prayin' Carrie and she had come home on the bus a week early, her eyes red and socketed from weeping, to be picked up by Momma at t he station, and Momma had told her grimly that she should treasure the memory of her scourging as proof that Momma knew, that Momma was right, that the only hope of safety and salvation was inside the red circle. ‘For straight is the gate,' Momma said grimly in the taxi, and at home she had sent Carrie to the closet for six hours. Momma had, of course, forbade her to shower with the other girls; Carrie had hidden her shower things in her school locker and had showered anyway, taking part in a naked ritual that was shameful and embarrassing to her in hopes that the circle around her might fade a little, just a little- (but today o today) Tommy Erbter, age five, was biking up the other side of the street. He was a small, intense-looking boy on a twenty-inch Schwinn with bright-red training wheels. He was humming ‘Scoobie Doo, where are you?' under his breath. He saw Carrie, brightened, and stuck out his tongue. ‘Hey, ol' fart-face! Ol' prayin' Carrie!' Carrie glared at him with sudden smoking rage. The bike wobbled on its training wheels and suddenly fell over. Tommy screamed. The bike was on top of him. Carrie smiled and walked on. The sound of Tommy's wails was sweet, jangling music in her ears. If only she could make something like that happen whenever she liked. (just did) She stopped dead seven houses up from her own, staring blankly at nothing. Behind her, Tommy was climbing tearfully back on to his bike, nursing a scraped knee. He yelled something at her, but she ignored it. She had been yelled at by experts. She had been thinking: (fall off that bike kid push you off that bike and split your rotten head) And something had happened Her mind had †¦ had †¦ she groped for a word. Had flexed. That was not just right, but it was very close. There had been a curious mental bending, almost like an elbow curling a dumbbell. That wasn't exactly right either, but it was all she could think of. An elbow with no strength. A weak baby muscle. Flex. She suddenly stared fiercely at Mrs Yorraty's big picture window. She thought: (stupid frumpty old bitch break that window) Nothing. Mrs Yorraty's picture window glittered serenely in the fresh nine o'clock glow of morning. Another cramp gripped Carrie's belly and she walked on. But †¦ The light. And the ashtray; don't forget the ashtray. She looked back (old bitch hates my momma) over her shoulder. Again it seemed that something flexed †¦ but very weakly. The flow of her thoughts shuddered as if there had been a sudden bubbling from a wellspring deeper inside. The picture window seemed to ripple. Nothing more. It could have been her eyes. Could have been. Her head began to feel tired and fuzzy, and it throbbed with the beginning of a headache. Her eyes were hot, as if she had just sat down and read the Book of Revelations straight through. She continued to walk down the street toward the small white house with the blue shutters. The familiar hate-love-dread feeling was churning inside her. Ivy had crawled up the west side of the bungalow (they always called it the bungalow because the White house sounded like a political joke and Momma said all politicians were crooks and sinners and would eventually give the country over to the Godless Reds who would put all the believers of Jesus – even the Catholics – up against the wall), and the ivy was picturesque, she knew it was, but sometimes she hated it. Sometimes, like now, the ivy looked like a grotesque giant hand ridged with great veins which had sprung up out of the ground to grip the building. She approached it with dragging feet. Of course, there had been the stones. She stopped again, blinking vapidly at the day. The stones. Momma never talked about that; Carrie didn't even know if her momma still remembered the day of the stones. It was surprising that she herself still remembered it. She had been a very little girl then. How old? Three? Four? There had been the girl in the white bathing suit, and then the stones came. And things had flown in the house. Here the memory was, suddenly bright and clear. As if it had been here all along, just below the surface, waiting for a kind of mental puberty. Waiting, maybe, for today. From Carrie: The Black Dawn of T.K. (Esquire Magazine, September 12, 1980) by Jack Gaver: Estelle Horan had lived in the neat San Diego suburb of Parrish for twelve years, and outwardly she is typical Mrs California: She wears bright print shifts and smoked amber sunglasses; her hair is black-streaked blonde; she drives a neat maroon Volkswagen Formula Vee with a smile decal on the petrol cap and a green-flag ecology sticker on the back window. Her husband is an executive at the Parrish branch of the Bank of America; her son and daughter are certified members of the Southern California Sun ‘n Fun Crowd, burnished-brown beach creatures. There is a hibachi in the small, beautifully kept back yard, and the door chimes play a tinkly phrase from the refrain of ‘Hey, Jude.' But Mrs Horan still carries the thin, difficult soil of New England somewhere inside her, and when she talks of Carrie White her face takes on an odd, pinched look that is more like Lovecraft out of Arkham than Kerouac out of Southern Cat. ‘Of course she was strange,' Estelle Horan tells me. lighting a second Virginia Slim a moment after stubbing out her first. ‘The whole family was strange. Ralph was a construction worker, and people on the street said he carried a Bible and a .38 revolver to work with him every day. The Bible was for his coffee break and lunch. The .38 was in case he met Antichrist on the job, I can remember the Bible myself. The revolver †¦ who knows? He was a big olive-skinned man with his hair always shaved into a flattop crewcut. He always looked mean. And you didn't meet his eyes, not ever. They were so intense they actually seemed to glow. When you saw him coming you crossed the street and you never stuck out your tongue at his back, not ever. That's how spooky he was.' She pauses, puffing clouds of cigarette smoke toward the pseudo-redwood beams that cross the ceiling. Stella Horan lived on Carlin Street until she was twenty, commuting to day classes at Lewin Business College in Motton. But she remembers the incidents of the stones very clearly. ‘There are times,' she says, ‘when I wonder if I might have caused it. Their back yard was next to ours, and Mrs White had put in a hedge but it hadn't grown out yet. She'd called my mother dozens of times about â€Å"the show† I was putting on in my back yard. Well, my bathing suit was perfectly decent – prudish by today's standards – nothing but a plain old one-piece Jantzen. Mrs White used to go on and on about what a scandal it was for â€Å"her baby.† My mother..-. well, she tries to be polite, but her temper is so quick. I don't know what Margaret White did to finally push her over the edge – called me the Whore of Babylon, I suppose – but my mother told her our yard was our yard and I'd go out and dance the hootchie-kootchie buck naked if that was her pleasure and mine. She also told her that she was a dirty old woman with a can of worms for a mind. There was a lot more shouting, but that was the upshot of it. ‘I wanted to stop sunbathing right then. I hate trouble. It upsets my stomach. But Mom-when she gets a case, she's a terror. She came home from Jordan Marsh with a little white bikini. Told me I might as well get all the sun I could. â€Å"After all,† she said, â€Å"the privacy of our own back yard and all.† Stella Horan smiles a little at the memory and crushes out her cigarette. ‘I tried to argue with her, tell her I didn't want any more trouble, didn't want to be a pawn in their back-fence war. Didn't do a bit of good. Trying to stop my mum when she' gets a bee in her hat is like trying to stop a Mack truck going downhill with no brakes. Actually, there was more to it. I was scared of the Whites. Real religious nuts are nothing to fool with. Sure, Ralph White was dead, but what if Margaret still had that .38 around? ‘But there I was on Saturday afternoon, spread out ‘ on a blanket in the back yard, covered with suntan lotion and listening to Top Forty on the radio. Mom hated that stuff and usually she'd yell out at least twice for me to turn it down before she went nuts. But that day she turned it up twice herself. I started to feel like the Whore of Babylon myself ‘But nobody came out of the Whites' place. Not even the old lady to hang her wash. That's something else – she never hung any undies on the back line. Not even Carrie's, and she was only three back then. Always in the house. ‘I started to relax. I guess I was thinking Margaret must have taken Carrie to the park to worship God in the raw or something. Anyway, after a little while I rolled on my back, put one arm over my eyes, and dozed off. ‘When I woke up, Carrie was standing next to me and looking down at my body.' She breaks off, frowning into space. Outside, the cars are whizzzing by endlessly. I can hear the steady little whine my tape recorder makes. But it all seems a little too brittle, too glossy, just a cheap patina over a darker world – a real world where nightmares happen. ‘She was such a pretty girl,' Stella Horan resumes, fighting another cigarette. ‘I've seen some high school pictures of her, and that horrible fuzzy black-and-white photo on the cover of Newsweek. I look at them and all I can think is, Dear God, where did she go? What did that woman do to her? Then I feel sick and sorry. She was so pretty, with pink cheeks and bright brown eyes, and her hair the shade of blonde you know will darken and get mousy. Sweet is the only word that fits. Sweet and bright and innocent. Her mother's sickness hadn't touched her very deeply, not then. ‘I kind of started up awake and tried to smile. It was hard to think what to do. I was logy from the sun and my mind felt sticky and slow. I said â€Å"Hi.† She was wearing a little yellow dress, sort of cute but awfully long for a little girl in the summer. It came down to her shins. ‘She didn't smile back. She just pointed and said, â€Å"What are those?† ‘I looked down and saw that my top had slipped while I was asleep. So I fixed it and said, â€Å"Those are my breasts, Carrie,† ‘Then she said-very solemnly: â€Å"I wish I had some.† ‘I said: â€Å"You have to wait, Carrie. You won't start to get them for another †¦ oh. eight or nine years.†