A. “They looked at Martian hills that time had worn with a crushing pressure of years.”

B. Onions but not onions, carrots but not carrots. Taste: the same but different. Smell: not like it used to be.” He felt his heart pounding, and he was afraid. He dug his fingers into the earth. “Cora, what’s happening? What is it? We’ve got to get away from this.” He ran across the garden. Each tree felt his touch. “The roses. The roses. They’re turning green!”

C. Mr. Bittering felt very alone in his garden under the Martian sun, anachronism bent here, planting Earth flowers in a wild soil.

D. But as he worked that night, the thought of the cool blue marble while entered his mind. As the hours passed, the rocket seemed less important.

It stays with you forever

It doesn’t exist

It dwindles and finally vanishes

It is taken away from you

“Sam,” Bittering said. “Your eyes—” “What about them Harry?” “Didn’t they used to be gray?” “Well now, I don’t remember.” “They

were, weren’t they?” “Why do you ask, Harry?” “Because now they’re kind of yellow-colored.”

The days were full of metal sound. He laid the frame of the rocket with the reluctant help of three indifferent men. He grew very tired in

an hour or so and had to sit down.

“Strange. You think those Martians killed them?” “They look surprisingly peaceful. Chances are a plague did this town in, sir.”

“Lots to be done, Lieutenant.” His voice droned on and quietly on as the sun sank behind the blue hills. “New settlements. Mining sites,

minerals to be looked for. Bacteriological specimens taken. The work, all the work.

the wind

the Martians

the rocket

the canal

Something happened that afternoon. Laura stumbled through the settlement, crying. She dashed blindly onto the porch. “Mother, Father—the war, Earth!” she sobbed. “A radio flash just came. Atom bombs hit New York! All the space rockets blown up. No more rockets to Mars, ever!”

Summer burned the canals dry.

Five years later a rocket fell out of the sky. It lay steaming in the valley. Men leaped out of it, shouting. “We won the war on Earth! We’re here to rescue you! Hey!”

The wind blew as if to flake away their identities. At any moment the Martian air might draw his soul from him, as marrow comes from a white bone. He felt submerged in a chemical that could dissolve his intellect and burn away his past.

The war on Earth finally ends.

The children explore the ruins.

Atom bombs destroy the space rockets.

Martians appear in their town.

In the quiet autumn Mr. Bittering stood, very dark now, very golden eyed, upon the slope above his villa, looking at the valley. “It’s time to go back,” said Cora. “Yes, but we’re not going,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing there anymore.”

Something happened that afternoon. Laura stumbled through the settlement, crying. She dashed blindly onto the porch. “Mother, Father—the war, Earth!” she sobbed. “A radio flash just came. Atom bombs hit New York! All the space rockets blown up. No more rockets to Mars, ever!

They came to a small deserted Martian villa with a good view of the valley. It was on top of a hill. Blue marble halls, large murals, a swimming pool. It was refreshing in this hot summertime. The Martians hadn’t believed in large cities.

Five years later a rocket fell out of the sky. It lay steaming in the valley. Men leaped out of it, shouting. “We won the war on Earth! We’re here to rescue you! Hey!”

He enjoys the scenery

He is in awe of the new place

He feels sick

He is tense and fears losing his identity

He saw their skin baking brown. And he saw the yellow eyes of his wife and his children, their eyes that were never yellow before.

The wind blew as if to flake away their identities. At any moment, the Martian air might draw his soul from him, as marrow comes from a white bone He felt submerged in a chemical that could dissolve his intellect and burn away his past.

“Nonsense!” Mr. Bittering looked out the windows. “We’re clean, decent people.” He looked at his children. “All dead cities have some kind of ghosts in them. Memories, I mean.”

He glanced up from the garden to the Martian mountains. He thought of the proud old Martian names that had once been on those peaks. Earthmen, dropping from the sky, had gazed upon hills, rivers, Martian seats left nameless in spite of names.

At first, the characters are surprised about their environment. In the end, the characters are calm and accepting.

At first, the characters are nervous. In the end, the characters are calm and accepting.

At first, the characters are pleased with their mood. In the end, the characters are calm and accepting.

At first, the characters are in awe of their environment. In the end, the characters are scared and confused.

They came to a small deserted Martian villa with a good view of the valley. It was on top of a hill. Blue marble halls, large murals, a swimming pool. It was refreshing in this hot summertime. The Martians hadn’t believed in large cities.

Alone, thought Bittering. Only a thousand of us here. No way back. No way. No way. Sweat poured from his face and his hands and his body; he was drenched in the hotness of his fear.

They built a small white cottage and ate good breakfasts there, but the fear was never gone. It lay with Mr. Bittering and Mrs. Bittering, a third unbidden partner at every midnight talk, at every dawn awakening. “I feel like a salt crystal,” he said, “in a mountain stream, being washed away. We don’t belong here. We’re Earth people. This is Mars.”

In the quiet autumn Mr. Bittering stood, very dark now, very golden-eyed, upon the slope above his villa, looking at the valley. “It’s time to go back,” said Cora. “Yes, but we’re not going,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing there anymore.”

the events have not happened but could with scientific or technology breakthroughs

the events take place in the past

the events are true stories

the events are humorous

He picked up the luggage in his cold hands. “Here we go,” he said—a man standing on the edge of a sea, ready to wade in and be drowned. They walked into town.

A river of wind submerged the house. When the windows ceased rattling Mr. Bittering swallowed and looked at the children.

The wind blew a shower of peach blossoms.

As long as the rockets had spun a silver web across space, he had been able to accept Mars. For he had always told himself: Tomorrow, if I want, I can buy a ticket and go back to Earth.

he decides to build a rocket

he lets his wife take over as head of the Bittering family

he lets his children make friends in their new environment

he agrees to allow his son to take a Martian name

A. “It’s suppertime, Harry,” they said. His wife appeared with his supper in a wicker basket. “I won’t touch it,” he said. “I’ll eat only food from our Deep freeze. Food that came from Earth. Nothing from our garden.”

B. Harry Bittering moved into the metal shop and began to build the rocket. Men stood in the open door and talked and joked without raising their voices. Once in awhile they gave him a hand on lifting something.

C. Linnl. Isn’t that a good name? Can I use it? Can’t I, please?” Mr. Bittering put his hand to his head. He thought of the silly rocket, himself working alone, himself alone even among his family, so alone. He heard his wife say, “Why not?” He heard himself say, “Yes, you can use it.” “Yaaa!” screamed the boy. “I’m Linnl, Linnl!”

D. “Utha,” he said. “What?” asked his father. The boy smiled. “You know. Utha’s the Martian word for ‘father.’” “Where did you learn it?” “I don’t know. Around. Utha!”

Earth is destroyed by an atom bomb.

he stopped building his rocket

Martians appear in their town.

he likes the new villas

A. “I’ve got work to do here.” “Work! You can finish that rocket in the autumn, when it’s cooler.” He took a breath. “I got the frame all set up.” “In the autumn is better.” Their voices were lazy in the heat. “Got to work,” he said. “Autumn,” they reasoned. And they sounded so sensible, so right. “Autumn would be best,” he thought. “Plenty of time, then.”

B. They came to a small deserted Martian villa with a good view of the valley. It was on top of a hill. Blue marble halls, large murals, a swimming pool.

C. “A radio flash just came. Atom bombs hit New York! All the space rockets blown up. No more rockets to Mars, ever!

D. The children, small seeds, might at any instant be sown to all the Martian climes.

Metaphor

Onomatopoeia

Hyperbole

Idiom

“Colonial Days all over again,” he declared.

As long as the rockets had spun a silver web across space, he had been able to accept Mars.

The children, small seeds, might at any instant be sown to all the Martian climes.

Laura stumbled through the settlement, crying.