Answer:
a. That she has the mark of a criminal, the fleur-de-lis.
Answer:
A. "But such impressions, originating as they frequently do, from infant prejudices, do great injustices to many of this race of beings."
B. "It needs not the power of argument on the nature of man, to silence forever the remark that 'it is the purpose of the Almighty that the Indians should be exterminated.'"
Explanation:
See attached...
FYI: you possibly could add options to get better answers. :)
Answer:
Hi. I'm Amanda Princeton. This is the story about the day I was framed for the murder of Mr. Parker.
It happened on the snowiest night in January. I was all alone in my house, sipping hot cocoa as I watch the snowfall just outside my window. I heard a weird noise from outside and noticed the mean old man, Mr. Parker, sinking in the snow. I chuckled to myself, the snow was only six inches deep. He must have tripped or something. I continue watching him struggle to get up from the ground, but then a hand as black as night grabbed him and pulled him completely under the snow. I jumped out of my seat, startled at what I had just witnessed. Did Mr. Parker just... die? I rushed to my room and threw on my snow boots and coat. I quickly made my way to the front door, but I froze as I put my hand on the deadbolt. What if it gets me? I thought to myself. I finally talked myself up just enough to unlock the deadbolt. Next was the lock on the doorknob. I began to shake. If I unlock this door, whatever that's out there could possibly overpower me and get in. I shook my head. I'm not scared of anything! I reassured myself. I unlocked the door and turned the knob. As soon as I did, a strong wind pushed it open. The door swung open and knock me on the ground. It nearly knocked me unconscious! Everything seemed to be fuzzy as I began to get up. As soon as I was on my feet, another gust of wind pushed through the doorway, but this time, a dark figure had come with it. As soon as I laid eyes on it, I fell unconscious.
When I finally came to, I found myself at a police station in cuffs and in a cell. "Wh-what happened?" I stammered. One of the officers walked over to the cell, looking at me with disgust in his eyes. "Mr. Parker was found dead in your basement. We also found his blood all over your coat and on a doorknob. The doorknob was removed from the front door." I began to cry as he told me the story. "It wasn't me! Something was out there! It did it!" I pleaded. "Sure, we'll go with your little fantasy." the officer said as he walked away. I'm telling you this story from a mental asylum. If you ever see this... this thing, don't let it near you. Never, and I mean never, let it near you.
<u>This is the end of this recording. Please rewind the tape to the beginning. Thank you.</u>
"So... Amanda. It seems as if you've been framed for murder? A murder that didn't even happen," Mr. Parker grinned from ear to ear. The basement was dimly lit with the flickering flame of the candles set around an upside-down star. Mr. Parker put a knife to his hand. "Let's see if we can frame someone else."
Explanation:
