Answer:
Fahrquhar's fantasy and imaginative narration implies that he may not be trusted as a reliable witness.
Explanation:
'An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge' is a short story written by Ambrose Bierce. The story is about a man named Peyton Fahrquhar, who is hanged in the story and also narrates the events that caused this hanging.
Peyton Fahrquhar is a middle-aged man of about thirty-five years of age. He desires to be a part of Confederate Army and support the cause of Southerners. In Part III, after Fahquhar was hanged, he fanstasize himself to be free from ropes on his hands and neck and marvelously escaped from Federal's hanging. By the difference between the Third-person narrator's description and Fahrquhar's witness of his escape dictates that Fahrquhar was fantasizing his escape but in reality he is dead.
<em>'Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking, for now he sees another scene—</em><u><em>perhaps he has merely recovered from a delirium</em></u><em>. He stands at the gate of his own home. All is as he left it, and all bright and beautiful in the morning sunshine. He must have traveled the entire night.'</em>
The last statement of the story also verifies that Fahrquhar's witnessing is unreliable:
<em>'Peyton Fahrquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge.'</em>
When Fahrquhar was imagining his escape, he was hung on the Owl Creek Bridge.
Answer:
I left in a French steamer, and she called in every blamed port they have out there, for, as far as I could see, the sole purpose of landing soldiers and custom-house officers. I watched the coast. Watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma. There it is before you—smiling, frowning, inviting, grand, mean, insipid, or savage, and always mute with an air of whispering, ‘Come and find out.’
Explanation:
This one was almost featureless, as if still in the making, with an aspect of monotonous grimness. The edge of a colossal jungle, so dark-green as to be almost black, fringed with white surf, ran straight, like a ruled line, far, far away along a blue sea whose glitter was blurred by a creeping mist. The sun was fierce, the land seemed to glisten and drip with steam. Here and there greyish-whitish specks showed up clustered inside the white surf, with a flag flying above them perhaps.
Hmm, not sure about this one. Maybe ‘Are you a good person’ or basically stuff related to the asked man himself.