Read “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge” by Ambrose Bierce.

Question

Consider how the story could end differently, then write an alternate ending.
Write at least 2 pages of your new ending.

Begin your alternate ending with the last sentence of the original text - right before your new ending picks up - to transition from the original author's voice to your own.
2 pages, double spaced, correct MLA format
Creative ending that follows the natural progression of events from the story
Incorporate 3D writing - use dialogue, description, and details
Integrate ideas from the original passage
Proper spelling and conventions

Type the last line of the story you have chosen. “And as he held his loved ones close, a sense of hope ignited within him, reminding him that life, even amidst chaos, could flourish anew.”
In your own words, tell how the story ended. The shocking conclusion of the story tricks him to think he has escaped but is still being executed. It graciously twists with a disdain for time that he so hasn't been willing to bear off yet. The very cry of vulture sacrifices its carcass as along he wafts yet hugs the spare rail trappings tight-what an unprecedented dirty joke-one waiting participation within disillusionment, plain that he is actually still around, only about to flee within the final embers within the longer half of his existence. What a terrible, swaying standoff, cut from recklessness to burning-the wind will not bear for an open disclosure of folly and ruin to the infinite ranks of warfare.

Brainstorming-Alternate Ending
What is something you didn’t like about the original story? The only part of the original story that I found highly perturbing was the stark contrast between Farquhar's completely idyllic escape and the sudden resolution of his execution. Farquhar's experiences have this almost dreamlike quality, ending ultimately with a shocking punchline of his execution in reality. This presents a picture of despair at best, with practically no openings left for justice or calling hope into question. Though it makes a fairly deep commentary about the human psyche and war's imprint on it, the Flatness could be consistent with sadness in and of itself.
Explain what you will change in your version of this story. I would pivot from the story's main theme of despair and illusion into resilience and hope. This would underpin the whole idea of the will of man in his yearning for connection that would, thereby, allow the core theme to be more cheering than despairful. A rising emotional pitch could occupy the land, but the ending should celebrate life instead of being a tragic paradox. Even so, it will still remain tense and suspenseful and tempered with a closure that celebrates the protagonist's survival and reasserts the value of human relationships against adversity.
How is your ending different from the author’s? In a different version of the conclusion, instead of rendering the escape of Farquhar as a rather fantastical yet ill-fated experience just extending up to his dying, let us presume the escape to be successful and full of flesh and blood. As he plunges into the fast river from swinging on the bridge, the soldier evades the bullets and, more so, remains alive. As he swims away from the soldiers, he reflects upon his family and the life he dreads returning to, therefore, inspiring hope and furtherance in the readers.
Why would people rather read your ending than the author’s?
My alternate ending should find favor with a reading audience in that frame of despair that it gave in the first part of the book continues only to be a resilient and hopeful tale thereafter-statesmen, putting human spirit above, able to continue under whatever forms of hardship. The promise of life, love, and unwavering family solidarity should sound at the end rather higher than what it is given and sure to cast a rosy glow on such readers who like their tales of sagacity, despite hardship.
Explain how the characters are different at the end of your story vs. the author’s story The original story is truly profound; Farquhar is not only the would-be liberator of the Confederacy, but he, in his very hopefulness, has become tragic as it turns out that his escape is a mirage, promised in his dreams just before his demise. Illusion and inevitable doom were the protruded themes that represent the gruesome singularity of war and existence. Unlike Bierce, my alternate ending offers hope and perseverance in a more actual journey for readers than the embrace of reality through reflection on life as futile. By changing the spectrum of hopes to survival and connection, one gives a far more communing experience with deciding on the tension and thrill that passes with the unfolding plot. All through, this re-imagined ending is a reminder of the people-deterring value of human resilience, endowing it with alternatives strikingly refreshing for readers and uplifting.

Write in MLA FORMAT

Create Title

Answer 1

Title: A New Dawn at Owl Creek Bridge

“And as he held his loved ones close, a sense of hope ignited within him, reminding him that life, even amidst chaos, could flourish anew.”

As Peyton Farquhar felt the weight of the noose loosen around his neck, the world seemed to slip away from him—time itself warped into a strange concoction of reality and dream. But what if instead of that moment of transcendence being a mere illusion, it became the catalyst for a gripping escape?

Peyton clawed at the air with desperate fingers, sensing the cool water dancing around him before he hit the surface with a resounding splash. The river enveloped him, its icy grip pulling him under momentarily before he broke free—gasping and sputtering as the warmth of life surged through him. Above, the soldiers on the bridge shouted, their voices shrill with urgency, punctuated by the sharp cracks of gunfire. The bullets splashed the water around him, but he didn’t stop. He swam with all the strength his body could muster, driven by thoughts of his wife and children, their faces bright in his memory.

"Dive deeper, Peyton! Don't look back!" he murmured to himself, the words barely making it past the churning water in his throat. Each stroke brought him nearer to the shore, the bank bathed in dappled sunlight that seemed to beckon him home.

As he clawed his way onto the bank, the river released him, and he lay breathlessly on the mud, heart pounding wildly against the chaos of the world around him. In his mind, visions of his family flickered like a candle flame against the dark backdrop of despair. “I will return to you,” he whispered fiercely, clutching the earth beneath him as if it could ground him in certainty.

Hidden in the brush, he listened as the soldiers above continued their frantic search for him. “He’s got to be around here somewhere,” a voice called, laced with frustration.

“But it’s a river; he could be miles away by now!” another soldier shot back, their voices growing fainter as they moved away from the water’s edge. Farquhar’s heart sank at the thought of being recaptured, the noose still a specter in his mind. Staying quiet was key, and he pressed himself flat against the damp ground, breathing slow and deliberate as he watched the last of them fade into the distance.

Once silence returned, he pushed himself up cautiously, the weight of his surroundings bearing down upon him. The trees swayed gently, and he took a moment to drink in the beauty of the untouched wilderness, so starkly different from the clutches of war that had nearly taken his life. There was still a flare of hope within him, a fire that would not dim easily. "I’m alive," he whispered silently, "and I will find my way back despite everything."

Slowly, he stood, trembling legs barely supporting his weight. The forest loomed ahead, inviting him with its myriad shades of green. With each step he took, the memories of his home lit a fire within his soul. The smell of the fresh earth, the gentle rustle of leaves, and the birds singing above could almost transport him to the days before war darkened his life.

“No time to waste, Peyton. You can do this,” he encouraged himself as he navigated through the underbrush. The ache in his muscles was a familiar sting—one he would not trade for the world, as it was proof of his survival.

After hours that felt like an eternity, Farquhar found his feet upon familiar ground, the dust of the road leading him towards the hidden path to his home. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows, but he did not fear the encroaching darkness. Each step brought him closer to the house where his wife awaited, unaware of the peril he faced. The laughter of their children echoed in his mind, urging him forward.

Finally, he emerged from the trees, and there it stood, his home—still intact, still a haven. Relief washed over him, and he made a beeline for the front porch. As he approached, he spotted his wife tending to the garden, her beautiful silhouette shining against the warm glow of the setting sun.

“Peyton! You’re back!” she exclaimed, dropping her tools and rushing to him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

His arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her in tight. “I thought I lost you,” he murmured, burying his face in her shoulder. The tangible scent of home was intoxicating, full of potpourri and blooming flowers, and the softness of her skin grounded him against the chaos of the day.

“Never again,” she whispered back, tears mingling with a smile. “Oh, Peyton; I knew you would come back to me!” The warmth of her body pressed against him was a balm to his wounded spirit—a reminder that love could thrive even in a world marred by conflict.

“You should have seen the things I had to do to return to you,” he replied, a lightness returning to his heart. “But nothing could keep me away. You and the children—my life—it’s all that matters now.”

In that moment, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the last rays of light upon them, creating a silhouette of unity. Farquhar held his family close, knowing that the journey ahead might still hold challenges, but he was ready to face them together, driven by love and hope—a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

Together, they walked into the house, hand in hand, the promises of tomorrow whispering around them. They would endure the scars of their past, but they would do so with the strength of unity, bound by the unbreakable ties of family. The chaos surrounding them faded into mere memories, replaced by the flourishing beauty of life, bolstered by love—a new dawn at Owl Creek Bridge.