Ronald Hadrian's Blog, page 12
July 16, 2024
Enlightenment age Quiz
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July 12, 2024
Civil War and Restoration Quiz
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literature?", options: ["Satire", "Religious writings", "Romantic poetry", "Gothic novels"], answer: "Religious writings" }, { question: "Richard Baxter is best known for his work titled:", options: ["The Saints' Everlasting Rest", "The Compleat Angler", "Leviathan", "Paradise Lost"], answer: "The Saints' Everlasting Rest" }, { question: "Izaak Walton authored which famous work?", options: ["The Compleat Angler", "The Anatomy of Melancholy", "The Pilgrim's Progress", "Areopagitica"], answer: "The Compleat Angler" }, { question: "Thomas Fuller is well-known for his:", options: ["The History of the Worthies of England", "The Pilgrim's Progress", "Paradise Lost", "The Compleat Angler"], answer: "The History of the Worthies of England" }, { question: "Which of the following works is NOT authored by John Dryden?", options: ["Absalom and Achitophel", "The Hind and the Panther", "Mac Flecknoe", "The Pilgrim’s Progress"], answer: "The Pilgrim’s Progress" }, { question: "Samuel Butler's satirical poem \"Hudibras\" mainly targets which group?", options: ["The Royalists", "The Puritans", "The Cavaliers", "The Jacobites"], answer: "The Puritans" }, { question: "John Evelyn is best known for his work titled:", options: ["The Diary of John Evelyn", "The Anatomy of Melancholy", "The Compleat Angler", "The Pilgrim’s Progress"], answer: "The Diary of John Evelyn" }, { question: "Samuel Pepys's diary is an important historical document for its detailed account of:", options: ["The English Civil War", "The Great Fire of London", "The Glorious Revolution", "The Industrial Revolution"], answer: "The Great Fire of London" }, { question: "Jeremy Collier is known for his work titled:", options: ["A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage", "The Way of the World", "The Country Wife", "The Man of Mode"], answer: "A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage" }, { question: "William Dampier is best known for his:", options: ["Novels", "Travel literature", "Plays", "Poems"], answer: "Travel literature" }, { question: "John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, is noted for his:", options: ["Epic poems", "Restoration comedies", "Satirical verses", "Travelogues"], answer: "Satirical verses" }, { question: "Thomas Rymer is best known for his work in:", options: ["Poetry", "Dramatic criticism", "Fiction", "Philosophy"], answer: "Dramatic criticism" }, { question: "Which of the following plays was written by George Etherage?", options: ["The Man of Mode", "The Country Wife", "The Way of the World", "The Recruiting Officer"], answer: "The Man of Mode" }, { question: "William Wycherley's play \"The Country Wife\" is a critique of:", options: ["Courtly love", "Puritanism", "Marital infidelity", "Political corruption"], answer: "Marital infidelity" }, { question: "George Farquhar's play \"The Recruiting Officer\" is set in:", options: ["London", "Dublin", "Shrewsbury", "Paris"], answer: "Shrewsbury" }, { question: "John Vanbrugh's notable architectural contribution is:", options: ["St Paul's Cathedral", "Blenheim Palace", "Westminster Abbey", "The Tower of London"], answer: "Blenheim Palace" }, { question: "Colley Cibber served as:", options: ["The first Poet Laureate of England", "A prominent Restoration dramatist", "A noted Puritan preacher", "The Poet Laureate from 1730 to 1757"], answer: "The Poet Laureate from 1730 to 1757" }, { question: "Thomas Otway's most famous tragedy is:", options: ["Venice Preserved", "The Mourning Bride", "The Way of the World", "Love for Love"], answer: "Venice Preserved" }, { question: "William Congreve's \"The Way of the World\" is best described as:", options: ["A heroic tragedy", "A sentimental comedy", "A restoration comedy", "A pastoral drama"], answer: "A restoration comedy" }, { question: "Aphra Behn's novel \"Oroonoko\" is significant for its:", options: ["Exploration of the supernatural", "Critique of the slave trade", "Depiction of courtly life", "Romantic themes"], answer: "Critique of the slave trade" }, { question: "John Gay's \"The Beggar's Opera\" is notable for its:", options: ["Romantic tragedy", "Satrical portrayal of politicians", "Epic narrative", "Sentimental comedy"], answer: "Satirical portrayal of politicians" } ]; const quizDiv = document.getElementById('quiz'); questions.forEach((q, index) => { const questionDiv = document.createElement('div'); questionDiv.className = 'question'; const questionText = document.createElement('p'); questionText.innerHTML = `Question ${index + 1}: ${q.question}`; questionDiv.appendChild(questionText); q.options.forEach(option => { const label = document.createElement('label'); const input = document.createElement('input'); input.type = 'radio'; input.name = `question${index}`; input.value = option; label.appendChild(input); label.appendChild(document.createTextNode(option)); questionDiv.appendChild(label); questionDiv.appendChild(document.createElement('br')); }); quizDiv.appendChild(questionDiv); }); function submitQuiz() { const name = document.getElementById('studentName').value; let score = 0; let results = `<h2>${name}'s Results</h2><ul>`; questions.forEach((q, index) => { const selectedOption = document.querySelector(`input[name="question${index}"]:checked`); if (selectedOption) { const answer = selectedOption.value; results += `<li>Question ${index + 1}: You answered "${answer}". `; if (answer === q.answer) { results += 'Correct!</li>'; score++; } else { results += `Wrong! The correct answer is "${q.answer}".</li>`; } } else { results += `<li>Question ${index + 1}: No answer selected. The correct answer is "${q.answer}".</li>`; } }); results += `</ul><h3>Your score is ${score} out of ${questions.length}</h3>`; document.getElementById('result').innerHTML = results; }
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July 5, 2024
Friar and Juliet by Ronald Hadrian A Short Story
“Write all the answers, don’t be lazy,” said my Poetry Professor as she handed out the answer sheets.
It was a humid day; the overhead fans held on for dear life as they rotated. We were asked to write about “Ulysses” by Lord Tennyson. I sighed and peered into the question paper. We had to write two essays, critically examining the characteristics of Ulysses. I preferred autodidacticism to lectures and didn’t care about marks. As I embarked on a nefarious lying session, I blatantly argued that Ulysses had no right to be in a war, leaving his wife and son—an irresponsible man by all Indian standards.
As I scribbled, a vision appeared. A girl with porcelain features and feline eyes walked in, asking for permission to convey some magical lore to the bystanders. Along with her came two more people, but that did not concern me.
“We are performing a play for the Literary Association function, and we want actors for the play,” said the angel.
No one raised their hands. Then a girl at the back of the class asked, “What play is it?”
The girl blushed and said, “Romeo and Juliet.”
Like hooligans, my class erupted in hoots. She waited for another minute to see if anyone was interested. The professor interjected, “They are your seniors; it will be okay, just give it a try.”
I don’t know why I did it, but I raised my hand. They noted my name and asked me to come for an audition that afternoon.
They gave me lines and asked me to read them aloud, then act them out. Reading was not a problem; acting, however, was so stale that even a two-day-old chapati would have won the role. But there was no one else, so they gave me a role that suited my rigidness. I got to play Friar Lawrence, the priest who helps Romeo and Juliet get married.
It’s true that I wanted to be Romeo, but I was sure that this was not possible. My senior acted, and he was a decent blend of humility with a penchant for acting. I started to shamelessly flirt with Juliet. Every time there was a scene between Romeo and Juliet, I would be disturbing them in some way. In the beginning, it was reserved, or let’s say put up as fun by others, but as time went by, it became annoying for others.
I did not repeat it. I went for practice, did my part, and came to my class. I was hurt. My senior noticed this and asked why I was not my usual self. I told her it was nothing.
Romeo asked me if I wanted to go to the canteen. We avoided going during breaks as students would be buzzing around the canteen.
“Sure,” I said.
The canteen was empty; then Juliet walked in. She came and sat at our table.
“Why are you silent?” she asked me. I smiled.
We started talking, and I kept looking into her eyes. But Romeo kicked me and said, “Her boyfriend is here.”
“What?” My face changed. A short guy with two bulky mates came towards our table. He spoke to Juliet, but she did not respond.
“You were laughing till now,” he stared at me, still talking to her. The situation escalated quickly. “You talk with everyone except me.” I was starting to get angry. We had our tea and headed out. The short guy, called Logesh, called me.
“Look here, brother, she is my girl,” he laughed. “If I see you talking to her, I will beat you up.”
Maybe it was her presence. I don’t know what happened. I punched him as hard as I could. His friends pounced on me. Romeo rescued me with just a few bruises. Juliet, angered by the naive incident, shouted at me.
“Hey, even I did not say anything to him, but why did you start a fight?” Romeo started to arrange for the rehearsal.
“I don’t know,” I said.
The news spread like wildfire. Some said he deserved it, and others said it was not worth it. Whatever they thought, for Juliet, it became clear that I was interested in her. Later that day, Romeo asked me to accompany him to the costume shop. It was a hot evening; I was profusely sweating when we entered an old costume shop. Romeo spoke with the shop person as I wandered into this labyrinth of used props. There were swords, shields, crowns, fairy wings, paintings of old kings, moustaches, clown noses, and a quiver of arrows. I noticed old lamps and Aladdin rugs. I got an old magical lamp prop and rubbed it slowly. Then I was struck by wooden wand props. I imagined I was Harry Potter, just then I heard a voice behind the door.
“What do you want?” I saw a young boy with blue eyes come out of the other room. I stood still. “I came to get props and dresses for the play.”
The boy perked up and asked, “What play?”
“Romeo and Juliet,” I said.
“A great play,” he said, reminiscing about his past. “It has been a long time since I saw the play.”
“Yes,” I said, happy to see he was aware of the play just being a boy.
“What’s your character?”
“I play Friar,” I said, looking down at the trinkets section.
He did not answer. He went to the other room without speaking to me.
I left to help Romeo and told him about the weird boy. He did not care but spoke extensively about the cost. Then when we were packed, the boy once again appeared. He chatted with Romeo for some time about the play.
“I am acting for the sake of it,” Romeo smiled, pointing at me. “He should have acted as Romeo, and besides, Juliet is more interested in Friar than Romeo in our play.”
The boy laughed. “Change the play into Friar and Juliet.”
We all laughed. “I wish she would talk to me now.”
“Why, what happened?” the boy asked.
“I punched my senior who was hitting on her.”
“What other thing do you wish?” the boy asked with a cunning smile.
“Oh, not much, just a kiss and a dance,” I joked.
Romeo looked at me, alarmed. “That Logesh guy will kill you.”
We all had a great time.
That evening, out of the blue, I received a call. It was Juliet.
“I thought you wouldn’t talk to me,” I stammered.
“Like an idiot, you are behaving,” she laughed. “You like me so much, I think.”
I kept quiet.
“I’m just glad you are talking to me,” she said, then we continued to talk for a long time.
The day of the play went extremely well.
“The chemistry between the Friar and Juliet was brilliant,” the audience joked.
I could see Logesh brimming with anger, and Juliet asked me to come and meet her alone. The entire corridor was empty, and in one of the classrooms, she asked me to wait. She came beaming and brought me a Dairy Milk.
I was elated. “Do you want to dance?”
God, this was the luckiest day of my life.
I clasped her hands, held her hips, and went around the classroom slowly. Her eyes were melting my soul.
I said, “Thank you.”
Then suddenly, in a flash, she kissed my cheeks and ran away.
I was dreamily walking, and Romeo noticed it.
“Dude, you okay?” He smiled.
We took all the props and went back to the costume shop. The boy came out smiling. We chatted, but Romeo had to go early. So he told me to wait and get the bill. As I waited for the shop owner to generate my bill, the boy looked straight into my eyes and asked.
“How was the dance and the kiss?”
“What?” I stood still. “How… how did you know?” I stammered.
“You got all your wishes, didn’t you?” He smiled.
“What are you talking about?”
“You rubbed the lamp, didn’t you? That’s my home,” he laughed, and his voice changed. “You wished for her to talk to you, and you wished for a kiss and a dance.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“Who are you?” I finally asked.
“My name is Puck, and I am also a djinn,” he laughed and turned into a huge, floating, bloated pink man.
Copyrighted @ Ronald Hadrian 2024
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July 2, 2024
Age of Elizabeth Quiz
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July 1, 2024
Testing Quiz
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Quiz
The post Quiz first appeared on Ronald Hadrian.
AI can’t fake real life
AI can’t fake real life.
No matter how good a copy it can write, there is something about human writing.
The experience is unique to every human.
If you want to stand out write your personal experience, than some blunt 5 step post.
But AI can enhance your writing if you know how to use it sensibly.
Here consider these 3 things to avoid when using AI for writing:
– Don’t let AI replace your voice
– Don’t rely on AI for personal anecdotes
– Don’t forget to fact-check AI output
AI is a tool, not a replacement for you.
Use it wisely.
What’s your experience with AI writing?
Share below!
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The Runner- A Short Story by Ronald Hadrian
The Runner
I went to the running camp to heal my aching heart. But I came back barely saving my life.
I am a failed novelist. Thirteen novels, and not one of them found a publisher. I have spent forty years of my life trying to publish my masterpiece. None made it. The disappointments in my life are many—my wife left me for another man, my daughter became a drug addict. I found running to be the simplest and most effective way to make sense of my horrid life. I enrolled in marathons of all kinds, and then I went a step further and enrolled in this dangerous running camp in a South Indian village. A million miles from my home.
The village’s climate defied convention. Dawn ushered in gentle breezes, noon brought stifling humidity, and evenings cloaked us in winter’s embrace. All the seasons competed for attention every single day.
Our instructions were clear. Run over the mountain every day. It was an 8-mile run. The path snaked through dense forest, occasionally shared by wildlife. Afternoons were devoted to yoga, while evenings found us gathered around the bonfire, voices raised in song and conversation.
“Today’s run was quite difficult?” said Luke from California. We were the only two white men in this camp.
“Yes,” I said, sipping some local beer. “We will be okay.”
The next day started early. We had some nutritious smoothies and did our warm-ups. The trainer assembled us and informed, “The trail today will be arduous, but remember to keep running no matter what happens. Do not leave the trail under any circumstances. A bunch of green flags will be at the top of the hill. Get them and come back quickly,” he warned us.
This was not the typical talk we got every time we started the race. Luke accompanied me, and as we headed into the thick of the woods, the way narrowed. It was not like the other trails. An old French couple ran in front of us. My satellite phone was in my backpack just in case of an emergency. The fragrance from the walnut trees drifted down the hill. Luke slowed down, and he asked me to keep going. I went past the French couple. I was running more slowly than usual as the trails kept winding in. Then all of a sudden, I heard something move among the bushes. I slowed, hoping it was not a tiger. But nothing happened, so I kept moving, and then once again, I saw something move.
I froze.
“Who’s there?” I said.
A young girl emerged, her face streaked with tears.
“What’s wrong?” I approached cautiously.
The mists were moving down. She spoke in her language, but I could not understand. She kept pointing over the hill. I didn’t know what to do. I waited, hoping the French runners or Luke might come. I waited for 10 minutes, but no one came. I decided to follow her. She took me through another trail. Lots of thorns and bristles, but the girl with bare feet walked as though it was a soft pillow.
The mists by now covered the entire hill. I could hardly see the girl, but she finally stopped in front of a small hut. A hut in the middle of nowhere, I mused. Apprehension gripped me as she beckoned me inside, her wails intensifying. I cracked the door open to find a woman in apparent distress.
“You have to take her to a doctor,” I observed her inching closer.
The woman’s condition appeared dire—neck tendons straining, lips tinged blue. The girl cried, but a thudding noise was heard outside the hut. The noise grew, and all of a sudden, the woman who was laying in the bed sat up smiling. My mind couldn’t comprehend.
“Hey, is this a prank?” I stood up, and to my shock, the girl had vanished. The door revealed only emptiness beyond. Inside, the woman underwent a grotesque transformation. Her complexion brightened, pupils dilated, lips flushed crimson. As she approached, my strength ebbed. Darkness claimed me.
I woke up tied to a tree. Luke was also tied to a tree opposite me. The surroundings looked familiar; we were once again near the camp. The French couple came smiling with our instructor.
“Look, they are awake,” said the trainer with a smug face.
“Last year, we had great fun with a pregnant woman,” they laughed.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Did you see the girl?”
“Yes, but she disappeared.”
“You will meet her today,” the instructor said. “Now she likes to play hide and seek. She is going to let you run, and this is your only chance. If she gets you, she gets you.”
“What are you talking about?” Luke yelled.
“She will kill you, but she will hunt you down and then kill you,” the French couple smiled.
“What kind of sick game is that?” I spat. “I will call the police.”
“You don’t understand… we all work for her. No one will save you,” the trainer proceeded to untie both of us. They handed back our backpacks.
“Sorry, she has to be fed. She feeds on fear, so now start running,” said the trainer.
I looked at Luke.
“Is this a joke or a prank?” I asked.
The trainer laughed. He unbuttoned his shirt and revealed a rotting chest. “You think this is a prank? We are marked. We are damned.”
As dusk fell, cricket song filled the air. Luke and I sprinted, desperate to locate the main road. The familiar trail from camp seemed altered. I remembered my satellite phone and halted to retrieve it.
“Hey, why are you stopping?” Luke looked at me concerned.
“I have a phone. I can call for help…” I called the emergency number.
But nothing seemed to be working.
The clouds, perhaps, I thought. “We have to find a way out of here. A bunch of loonies.”
“Yes, no one has followed us till now,” said Luke, relieved.
We walked for some time. We found the way to the main road.
“Gosh, we found the way,” I stepped onto the road happily.
A truck was coming, and I asked the driver to stop. The truck stopped, but something was weird. There was no driver. I started to freak out, and Luke looked around.
“What is happening? Are we in a dream?” I started to scream.
Luke calmed me down. “We can drive this and escape from this place. This is our only hope.”
We waited another 20 minutes. No one else passed by, so we drove the truck. Within 15 minutes, we came to town. After four hours of travel, we reached the airport.
“It was all an elaborate hoax,” I mused as we boarded the plane. “For a moment, I believed them.”
“We escaped with our lives,” Luke replied, smiling.
Back in America, we said our goodbyes, and I went to my house. I slept peacefully. This was the closest I had come to death. Yet, so many things bothered me: the girl, the dying woman, the trainer’s chest, the driverless truck.
“Man, somebody must have gone through a lot to make such an elaborate prank,” I thought.
Anyway, now I am going to go for a run. Like I said in the beginning, I went to heal my heart but came back barely saving my life.
—
*Editor’s Note:*
This short story arrived unsolicited. Five months after notifying the author of its acceptance, we learned of his untimely demise. He collapsed during a frigid morning run, his chest bearing mysterious burn marks. Eyewitnesses reported seeing him in the company of a young Indian girl weeks before his death.
Copyrighted @ Ronald Hadrian 2024
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June 21, 2024
Ever scroll past a post without a second glance?
Ever scroll past a post without a second glance?
That’s the power of a weak hook.
I used to struggle with this too.
My posts would disappear into the void.
No likes.
No comments.
No engagement.
It was frustrating.
Then I had a lightbulb moment.
I realized hooks aren’t just introductions.
They’re promises.
Promises of value to come.
So I started studying great hooks.
-I analyzed viral posts.
-I dissected attention-grabbing headlines.
And slowly, I cracked the code.
My engagement skyrocketed.
People started stopping their scroll for me.
Want to know how?
Here are 3 steps that changed my hook game:
→Start with a question: Spark curiosity instantly
→Use contrast: Highlight a problem, then hint at a solution
→Make it personal: Share a relatable struggle or victory
These aren’t just tips.
They’re tools to capture attention.
To make your audience lean in.
To get your message heard.
Ready to hook your readers.
Try these techniques in your next post.
Watch your engagement soar.
Drop a DM if you’re ready to cast better hooks.
Let’s reel in some readers together.
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June 20, 2024
Struggling with copywriting? You’re not alone.
Struggling with copywriting? You’re not alone.
I once lost a crucial pitch. It was painful.
But it taught me a valuable lesson.
Great copy isn’t born. It’s made.
Here are 3 steps that transformed my writing:
Read widely: Absorb different styles and voicesWrite daily: Practice makes perfectGet feedback: Fresh eyes spot blind spotsWant to level up your copy?
Try these steps for 30 days.
You’ll be amazed at the difference.
Ready to start? Comment “I’m in” below.
Let’s improve together.
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