Yellow Words June 2026

Short a words - yellow

Year 9 Vocab quiz (Yellow, Green and Blue words)

Year 10 Vocab quiz (Yellow, Green Blue Words)

Year 8 Vocab quiz (Yellow, Blue, Purple Words)

Here’s your **edited version** of the activity, now focused on **Shirley Jackson’s *“The Lottery”*** and **past and present participles**, while keeping the fun “Great Grammar Magician” game theme: --- ### 🎩 THE GREAT GRAMMAR MAGICIAN: “THE LOTTERY SPELL!” 🍀 It seems like you already know how **past and present participles** can transform simple verbs into more descriptive and expressive words. Now, it’s time to show your magical grammar powers and help the Great Grammar Magician complete her enchanting performance inspired by *“The Lottery”* by Shirley Jackson! --- ### 🌼 **THE LOTTERY SPELL!** **Directions:** The class will be divided into two groups, and each group will work together to help the Great Grammar Magician finish her magical act! Each group will receive **three magic flags** that can be used as advantages during the game: 🟩 **Green Flag** – Use for a clue about the question. 🟨 **Yellow Flag** – Use to look at the question first and decide whether to answer it or choose another one. 🟦 **Blue Flag** – Use to get another chance to answer the same question. The goal is to earn the **highest points** as a group. The first representative to raise their hand gets to choose a question to answer. There will be **six questions**, representing the **six stones** drawn during the “lottery.” Each stone contains a **Magic Spell Card** with a question your group must answer correctly to earn a point. --- ### 🪄 **MAGIC SPELL QUESTIONS** **1. Remembering** **Question:** Who is the author of *“The Lottery”?* **Expected Answer:** Shirley Jackson. --- **2. Understanding** **Question:** What is *“The Lottery”* mainly about? **Expected Answer:** It’s about a small town that follows a cruel tradition of holding a lottery where one person is chosen to be sacrificed. --- **3. Applying** **Question:** Identify a **past or present participle** used in *“The Lottery.”* Explain its function in the sentence. **Expected Answer:** Example: *“The children assembled first, of course.”* — “assembled” is a **past participle** used to describe what the children did before the lottery began. --- **4. Analyzing** **Question:** How does Shirley Jackson use participles to create suspense or describe actions in the story? **Expected Answer:** Participles like “gathered,” “watching,” or “whispered” make the actions more vivid and help build tension in the story. --- **5. Evaluating** **Question:** Do you think the townspeople’s calm behavior (described with participles like “smiling,” “talking,” “laughing”) makes the story more shocking? Why or why not? **Expected Answer:** (Open-ended) Yes, because the ordinary actions make the violent ending more disturbing / No, because it just shows how normal the ritual is to them. --- **6. Creating** **Question:** Write your own short two-line description using **past or present participles** to show tension or fear in a situation like the one in *“The Lottery.”* **Expected Answer:** (Open-ended) Example: *Shaking hands held the paper tight.* *The crowd waited, holding their breath.* --- ### 🪶 **Tie-Breaker Question** **Question:** If you were in *“The Lottery,”* what would you be doing as the black box was brought out? Use at least one participle in your answer. **Expected Answer:** (Open-ended; checks creativity and grammar) Example: *Standing in silence, I would watch the slips being drawn, my heart pounding.* --- Would you like me to make this version **visually formatted for a classroom printout** (e.g., with bold headers, emojis, and clear section boxes)?

Broken windows are covered. Floorboards are patched and doors screwed back on. The road that was ruined by German tanks is shovelled and raked smooth. Boot-shaped bruises turn yellow then fade and disappear. Flowers grow and spread across the ugly German footprints stomped into garden beds. The village looks pretty once more. School stops for the summer and everyone is put to work on the kolkhoz, the village farm. Women and big boys begin harvesting the barley crops in the outer fields. The biggest girls milk the cows, morning and night, and keep the barns clean. Old Nikolay mends ploughs, horse harnesses, pitchforks and scythes in his workshop. Anna Pushinka teaches Yelena and her friends how to get the honey from the beehives that are scattered through the orchards. I am in charge of collecting eggs. My friends Olga and Nina help. Olga and Nina are five, a year younger than me. They are twins and look exactly alike, except Nina’s nose is a little bit crooked from when she fell out of bed and squashed it sideways on the floor. The hens, ducks and geese wander free in the summer, so collecting eggs is like a treasure hunt and takes hours. Catching the hens for their daily hugs takes even longer, but I think it’s important because hugs make everyone happy and happy hens lay bigger eggs. Olga says I’m the best hen-hugger in all of Russia. Nina says I’ll be the best cow-hugger, too, when my arms grow longer. But good hugs have nothing to do with the size of your arms. It’s all to do with the size of your heart. When we are done with the hens, Olga, Nina and I can spend the rest of the day doing whatever we like. We climb the apricot trees, chase squirrels, lie in the meadow marvelling at how hot Ushanka’s black fur becomes in the sunshine, make daisy chains and race little boats of bark in the stream. I teach Olga and Nina the alphabet and we use charcoal to write our letters and our names all over the village – on doors and walls and the freshly cut ends of firewood. In between, I practise my knots. In case the German princemonsters return. I slip into Old Nikolay’s workshop and tie knots in the harnesses hanging on the walls. I wander into gardens where the washing is hung out to dry and tie knots in the laces on pants and smocks. I creep up behind Anna Pushinka and tie knots in her apron strings. I find baling twine in the hay shed and tie my own ankles together. I do such a good job of these last knots that I can’t get them undone. I have to jump all the way to Olga and Nina’s house and ask them to cut me free with their mama’s knife. At the end of each day, Ushanka and I run out into the distant barley fields to meet Mama. This is my favourite part of the day, because Mama always shouts, ‘Little Rabbit!’ and smothers my head with kisses. And as we walk home, we sing. Everyone – women, big boys and me. I love to sing. Almost as much as I love to be kissed by Mama. Sometimes one of the boys, Mikhail, has his balalaika with him. He takes the instrument out from beneath the sheaves of barley piled high on the wagon and plays music. We sing about forests and orchards and people who find their true love. As we walk home, arm in arm, my heart fills with happiness and my belly swells with pride that I am allowed to sing along with the big boys. And I can almost forget about the German prince-monsters and their lies about Russia and their big ugly boots. Almost. But today, when Mikhail reaches for his balalaika, I see other things hiding beneath the barley sheaves. Three of the mamas rush forward and cover them up, but it’s too late. I know they are there. I’ve already seen them. Rifles. Lots of rifles. Mikhail hugs his balalaika to his chest and blushes. ‘So play!’ cries Mama, her voice oddly loud and high. ‘Let’s play Sasha’s favourite song, “The Little Birch Tree”.’ So Mikhail plays and everyone sings about the lovely birch tree with its curly leaves and the branches that will be turned into silver flutes. They sing too quickly, too loudly, and as they sing and walk, they cast nervous sideways glances at me. ‘It’s alright,’ I say, when the song comes to an end. ‘I didn’t see the rifles.’ Mama nods and smiles, and I know it was the right thing to say. But I did see the rifles. And I think about Yelena wanting to get lots of guns and dynamite for the Partisans so they can shoot the Germans and blow them into thousands of tiny pieces, and Mama looking as though she agreed, and I know this is what the mamas and the big boys are doing. As well as harvesting, they are helping the Partisans. Three days later, I wake before dawn and I am all alone. Yelena is always here beside me when I wake. But not this morning. I climb down from our bed above the stove. Mama is filling a cloth sack with bread. She ties it closed with a piece of string and hands it to Yelena. ‘Stay out of sight,’ says Mama. ‘And don’t return until after dark.’ ‘Where’s she going?’ I ask. ‘Nowhere,’ snaps Mama. ‘Then why does she need all that bread?’ I ask. ‘There’s nothing left for us.’ Mama baked four loaves last night and she has stuffed them all into the sack. Yelena opens her mouth, but before she can speak, Mama shoves her out the door and sends her on the way to nowhere. Mama turns and stares at me, her blue, blue cornflower eyes wide with worry. ‘I know,’ I say, flopping down on the bench. ‘I didn’t see any bread.’ Mama sits beside me and takes my hand. ‘And . . .?’ she prods, obviously waiting for more. I puzzle for a while, then say, ‘And I don’t have a sister called Yelena.’ Mama laughs, softly and with a little bit of sadness around the edges. ‘Sweet Little Rabbit! You do have a sister called Yelena.’ ‘I do?’ I ask, now confused. ‘I haven’t seen the rifles or the bread, but I have seen Yelena?’ ‘Yes.’ Mama smiles and the magic makes me smile, too. And I am glad that Yelena is real because I love her very much. ‘Yelena is real,’ Mama explains, ‘but she does not carry sacks of bread into the forest for the Partisans.’ ‘Of course not!’ I shout, slapping my forehead. ‘Because there is no bread!’ Mama laughs loudly now, with not a hint of sadness. She hugs me, pressing me against her warm, loving heart, covering my head with kisses. ‘Clever Little Rabbit,’ she murmurs, and then, in barely a whisper, ‘Your papa would be so proud.’ When I wake the next morning, Yelena is sleeping beside me, her mouth open, her braided hair unravelling. Mama is serving kasha to a strange woman seated at our table. I crawl down from above the stove and slide along the bench beside her. I stare at her pants, her tunic, the rope she is using as a belt and her big boots. She’s dressed like a man! And there’s a rifle leaning against the wall near the door. ‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m Sasha.’ The woman doesn’t reply. She just shovels down her kasha. I line my four wooden bears along the table in front of her bowl and say, ‘These are my bears: Big Bear, Medium Bear, Little Bear and Even Littler Bear.’ ‘Hello, Sasha. Hello, bears.’ She smiles but she doesn’t tell me her name. ‘Why are you dressed like a man?’ I ask, tugging at the sleeve of her tunic. ‘Because men’s clothes make it easier to run and climb and crawl and shoot,’ she says. ‘You’re a Partisan!’ I gasp. ‘But she’s not real,’ says Mama, placing a bowl of kasha before me. ‘Is the kasha real?’ I ask. Mama laughs. ‘Yes, Little Rabbit.’ I’m glad the food is real, because I’m hungry. But I’m disappointed that the woman is not real. I was going to ask if I could use her rope-belt to tie her ankles together. For practice. But if she’s not real, then the rope and her ankles aren’t either. The woman finishes her kasha, hangs her rifle over her shoulder, kisses Mama on the cheek then slips out the door. I run to the window to watch her leave, but by the time I get there, she’s gone. Vanished. ‘Because she’s not real,’ I whisper. A week later, Mama and I are working in the garden. We sing as we weed between the flowers and pluck caterpillars from the vegetables. Anna Pushinka is picking strawberries in her garden and wanders over. ‘Taste these,’ she says, holding out the basket. Mama reaches in and takes out a fat strawberry and a tiny piece of folded paper. The strawberry goes into her mouth, the paper into her pocket. ‘What’s on the paper?’ I ask. ‘Paper?’ Anna Pushinka replies with a wave of her hand. ‘Goodness, Sasha! Who has money for paper? These are lean times. We must choose between paper for writing and noodles for our soup. And I always choose noodles.’ She chuckles and I know the paper is yet another thing that is not real. That night, Mama slips the paper to Yelena, but she drops it on the floor. I pick it up for her, and I see that there are tiny words and numbers written all over it. I wish I could read better. I’m desperate to know what it says. Or rather, what it doesn’t say, because it’s not real. Later, when Mama has tucked us into our bed above the stove and Ushanka has wrapped herself around the top of my head, I ask Yelena, ‘What’s on the paper?’ ‘What paper?’ says Yelena. ‘The paper that isn’t real,’ I reply. Yelena stares at me, nibbling her lip, then whispers, ‘A message for the Partisans. Stuff about where the Germans have their headquarters and when their trains are travelling and where they store their ammunition.’ ‘Why?’ ‘So the Partisans can blow them up.’ Yelena grabs my arm. ‘But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.’ ‘What’s a secret?’ I ask. ‘The message.’ ‘What message?’ I say, my eyes wide. Yelena laughs. ‘Good boy, Sasha.’ My belly swells with pride. I know how to play this game. ‘How are your knots coming along?’ asks Yelena. ‘Good! Yesterday, I crept into the dairy and tied knots in the apron strings of all the girls who were milking and only one of them noticed. Today, I tied Olga’s ankles together with Mama’s embroidery thread and just now, while you were taking a bath, I tied the sleeves of your blouse together in an enormous knot.’ Yelena rolls her eyes, then says, ‘I’ll see if I can find you some rope for practising.’ ‘Practising what?’ I ask. ‘Your knots,’ she says. ‘What knots?’ Yelena, my big sister who is twelve and always serious t

She went by the name of Belisa Crepusculario, not because she had been baptized with that name or given it by her mother, but because she herself had searched until she found the poetry of "beauty" and "twilight" and cloaked herself in it. She made her living selling words. She journeyed through the country from the high cold mountains to the burning coasts, stopping at fairs and in markets where she set up four poles covered by a canvas awning under which she took refuge from the sun and rain to minister to her customers. She did not have to peddle her merchandise because from having wandered far and near, everyone knew who she was. Some people waited for her from one year to the next, and when she appeared in the village with her bundle beneath her arm, they would form a line in front of her stall. Her prices were fair. For five centavos she delivered verses from memory, for seven she improved the quality of dreams, for nine she wrote love letters, for twelve she invented insults for irreconcilable enemies. She also sold stories, not fantasies but long, true stories she recited at one telling, never skipping a word. This is how she carried news from one town to another. People paid her to add a line or two: our son was born, so-and-so died, our children got married, the crops burned in the field. Wherever she went a small crowd gathered around to listen as she began to speak, and that was how they learned about each others' doings, about distant relatives, about what was going on in the civil war. To anyone who paid her fifty centavos in trade, she gave the gift of a secret word to drive away melancholy. It was not the same word for everyone, naturally, because that would have been collective dece it. Each person received his or her own word, with the assurance that no one else would use it that way in this universe or the Beyond. Belisa Crepusculario had been born into a family so poor they did not even have names to give their children. She came into the world and grew up in an inhospitable land where some years the rains became avalanches of water that bore everything away before them and others when not a drop fell from the sky and the sun swelled to fill the horizon and the world became a desert. Until she was twelve, Belisa had no occupation or virtue other than having withstood hunger and the exhaustion of centuries. During one interminable drought, it fell to her to bury four younger brothers and sisters, when she realized that her turn was next, she decided to set out across the 2 plains in the direction of the sea, in hopes that she might trick death along the way. The land was eroded, split with deep cracks, strewn with rocks, fossils of trees and thorny bushes, and skeletons of animals bleached by the sun. From time to time she ran into families who, like her, were heading south, following the mirage of water. Some had begun the march carrying their belongings on their back or in small carts, but they could barely move their own bones, and after a while they had to abandon their possessions. They dragged themselves along painfully, their skin turned to lizard hide and their eyes burned by the reverberating glare. Belisa greeted them with a wave as she passed, but she did not stop, because she had no strength to waste in acts of compassion. Many people fell by the wayside, but she was so stubborn that she survived to cross through that hell and at long last reach the first trickles of water, fine, almost invisible threads that fed spindly vegetation and farther down widened into small streams and marshes. Belisa Crepusculario saved her life and in the process accidentally discovered writing. In a village near the coast, the wind blew a page of newspaper at her feet. She picked up the brittle yellow paper and stood a long while looking at it, unable to determine its purpose, until curiosity overcame her shyness. She walked over to a man who was washing his horse in the muddy pool where she had quenched her thirst. "What is this?" she asked. "The sports page of the newspaper," the man replied, concealing his surprise at her ignorance. The answer astounded the girl, but she did not want to seem rude, so she merely inquired about the significance of the fly tracks scattered across the page. "Those are words, child. Here it says that Fulgencio Barba knocked out El Negro Tiznao in the third round." That was the day Belisa Crepusculario found out that words make their way in the world without a master, and that anyone with a little cleverness can appropriate them and do business with them. She made a quick assessment of her situation and concluded that aside from becoming a prostitute or working as a servant in the kitchens of the rich there were few occupations she was qualified for. It seemed to her that selling words would be an honorable alternative. From that moment on, she worked at that profession, and was never tempted by any other. At the beginning, she offered her merchandise unaware that words could be written outside of newspapers. When she learned otherwise, she calculated the infinite possibilities of her trade and with her savings paid a priest twenty pesos to teach her to read and write, with her three 3 remaining coins she bought a dictionary. She poured over it from A to Z and then threw it into the sea, because it was not her intention to defraud her customers with packaged words. One August morning several years later, Belisa Crepusculario was sitting in her tent in the middle of a plaza, surrounded by the uproar of market day, selling legal arguments to an old man who had been trying for sixteen years to get his pension. Suddenly she heard yelling and thudding hoofbeats. She looked up from her writing and saw, first, a cloud of dust, and then a band of horsemen come galloping into the plaza. They were the Colonel's men, sent under orders of El Mulato, a giant known throughout the land for the speed of his knife and his loyalty to his chief. Both the Colonel and El Mulato had spent their lives fighting in the civil war, and their names were ineradicably linked to devastation and calamity. The rebels swept into town like a stampeding herd, wrapped in noise, bathed in sweat, and leaving a hurricane of fear in their trail. Chickens took wing, dogs ran for their lives, women and children scurried out of sight, until the only living soul left in the market was Belisa Crepusculario. She had never seen El Mulato and was surprised to see him walking toward her. "I'm looking for you," he shouted, pointing his coiled whip at her, even before the words were out, two men rushed her -- knocking over her canopy and shattering her inkwell -- bound her hand and foot, and threw her like a sea bag across the rump of El Mulato's mount. Then they thundered off toward the hills. Hours later, just as Belisa Crepusculario was near death, her heart ground to sand by the pounding of the horse, they stopped, and four strong hands set her down. She tried to stand on her feet and hold her head high, but her strength failed her and she slumped to the ground, sinking into a confused dream. She awakened several hours later to the murmur of night in the camp, but before she had time to sort out the sounds, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into the impatient glare of El Mulato, kneeling beside her. "Well, woman, at last you've come to," he said. To speed her to her senses, he tipped his canteen and offered her a sip of liquor laced with gunpowder. She demanded to know the reason for such rough treatment, and El Mulato explained that the Colonel needed her services. He allowed her to splash water on her face, and then led her to the far end of the camp where the most feared man in all the land was lazing in a hammock strung between two trees. She could not see his face, because he lay in the deceptive shadow of the leaves and the indelible shadow of all his years as a bandit, but she imagined from the way his 4 gigantic aide addressed him with such humility that he must have a very menacing expression. She was surprised by the Colonel's voice, as soft and well-modulated as a professor's. "Are you the woman who sells words?" he asked. "At your service," she stammered, peering into the dark and trying to see him better. The Colonel stood up, and turned straight toward her. She saw dark skin and the eyes of a ferocious puma, and she knew immediately that she was standing before the loneliest man in the world. "I want to be President," he announced. The Colonel was weary of riding across that godforsaken land, waging useless wars and suffering defeats that no subterfuge could transform into victories. For years he had been sleeping in the open air, bitten by mosquitoes, eating iguanas and snake soup, but those minor inconveniences were not why he wanted to change his destiny. What truly troubled him was the terror he saw in people's eyes. He longed to ride into a town beneath a triumphal arch with bright flags and flowers everywhere, he wanted to be cheered, and be given newly laid eggs and freshly baked bread. Men fled at the sight of him, children trembled, and women miscarried from fright, he had had enough, and so he had decided to become President. El Mulato had suggested that they ride to the capital, gallop up to the Palace, and take over the government, the way they had taken so many other things without anyone's permission. The Colonel, however, did not want to be just another tyrant, there had been enough of those before him and, besides, if he did that, he would never win people's hearts. It was his aspiration to win the popular vote in the December elections. "To do that, I have to talk like a candidate. Can you sell me the words for a speech?" the Colonel asked Belisa Crepusculario. She had accepted many assignments, but none like this. She did not dare refuse, fearing that El Mulato would shoot her between the eyes, or worse still, that the Colonel would burst into tears. There was more to it than that, however, she felt the urge to help him because she felt a throbbing warmth beneath her skin, a powerful desire to touch that man, to fondle him, to clasp him in her arms. All night and a good part of the following day, Belisa Crepusculario searched her repertory for words adequate for a presidential speech, closely watched by El Mulato, who could not take his eyes from her firm wanderer's legs and virginal breasts. She discarded harsh, cold words, words 5 that were too flowery, words worn from abuse, words that offered improbable promises, untruthful and confusing words, until all she had left were words sure to touch the minds of men and women's intuition. Calling upon the knowledge she had purchased from the priest for twenty pesos, she wrote the speech on a sheet of paper and then signaled El Mulato to untie the rope that bound her ankles to a tree. He led her once more to the Colonel, and again she felt the throbbing anxiety that had seized her when she first saw him. She handed him the paper and waited while he looked at it, holding it gingerly between thumbs and fingertips. "What the shit does this say," he asked finally. "Don't you know how to read?" "War's what I know," he replied. She read the speech aloud. She read it three times, so her client could engrave it on his memory. When she finished, she saw the emotion in the faces of the soldiers who had gathered round to listen, and saw that the Colonel's eyes glittered with enthusiasm, convinced that with those words the presidential chair would be his. "If after they've heard it three times, the boys are still standing there with their mouths hanging open, it must mean the thing's damn good, Colonel" was El Mulato's approval. "All right, woman. How much do I owe you?" the leader asked. "One peso, Colonel." "That's not much," he said, opening the pouch he wore at his belt, heavy with proceeds from the last foray. "The peso entitles you to a bonus. I'm going to give you two secret words," said Belisa Crepusculario. "What for?" She explained that for every fifty centavos a client paid, she gave him the gift of a word for his exclusive use. The Colonel shrugged. He had no interest at all in her offer, but he did not want to be impolite to someone who had served him so well. She walked slowly to the leather stool where he was sitting, and bent down to give him her gift. The man smelled the scent of a mountain cat issuing from the woman, a fiery heat radiating from her hips, he heard the terrible whisper of her hair, and a breath of sweetmint murmured into his ear the two secret words that were his alone. "They are yours, Colonel," she said as she stepped back. "You may use them as much as you 6 please." El Mulato accompanied Belisa to the roadside, his eyes as entreating as a stray dog's, but when he reached out to touch her, he was stopped by an avalanche of words he had never heard before; believing them to be an irrevocable curse, the flame of his desire was extinguished. During the months of September, October, and November the Colonel delivered his speech so many times that had it not been crafted from glowing and durable words it would have turned to ash as he spoke. He travelled up and down and across the country, riding into cities with a triumphal air, stopping in even the most forgotten villages where only the dump heap betrayed a human presence, to convince his fellow citizens to vote for him. While he spoke from a platform erected in the middle of the plaza, El Mulato and his men handed out sweets and painted his name on all the walls in gold frost. No one paid the least attention to those advertising ploys; they were dazzled by the clarity of the Colonel's proposals and the poetic lucidity of his arguments, infected by his powerful wish to right the wrongs of history, happy for the first time in their lives. When the Candidate had finished his speech, his soldiers would fire their pistols into the air and set off firecrackers, and when finally they rode off, they left behind a wake of hope that lingered for days on the air, like the splendid memory of a comet's tail. Soon the Colonel was the favorite. No one had ever witnessed such a phenomenon: a man who surfaced from the civil war, covered with scars and speaking like a professor, a man whose fame spread to every corner of the land and captured the nation's heart. The press focused their attention on him. Newspapermen came from far away to interview him and repeat his phrases, and the number of his followers and enemies continued to grow. "We're doing great, Colonel," said El Mulato, after twelve successful weeks of campaigning. But the Candidate did not hear. He was repeating his secret words, as he did more and more obsessively. He said them when he was mellow with nostalgia; he murmured them in his sleep; he carried them with him on horseback; he thought them before delivering his famous speech; and he caught himself savoring them in his leisure time. And every time he thought of those two words, he thought of Belisa Crepusculario, and his senses were inflamed with the memory of her feral scent, her fiery heat, the whisper of her hair, and her sweetmint breath in his ear, until he began to go around like a sleepwalker, and his men realized that he might die before he ever sat in the presidential chair. "What's got hold of you, Colonel," El Mulato asked so often that finally one day his chief broke 7 down and told him the source of his befuddlement: those two words that were buried like two daggers in his gut. "Tell me what they are and maybe they'll lose their magic," his faithful aide suggested. "I can't tell them, they're for me alone," the Colonel replied. Saddened by watching his chief decline like a man with a death sentence on his head, El Mulato slung his rifle over his shoulder and set out to find Belisa Crepusculario. He followed her trail through all that vast country, until he found her in a village in the far south, sitting under her tent reciting her rosary of news. He planted himself, spraddle-legged, before her, weapon in hand. "You! You're coming with me," he ordered. She had been waiting. She picked up her inkwell, folded the canvas of her small stall, arranged her shawl around her shoulders, and without a word took her place behind El Mulato's saddle. They did not exchange so much as a word in all the trip; El Mulato's desire for her had turned into rage, and only his fear of her tongue prevented his cutting her to shreds with his whip. Nor was he inclined to tell her that the Colonel was in a fog, and that a spell whispered into his ear had done what years of battle had not been able to do. Three days later they arrived at the encampment, and immediately, in view of all the troops, El Mulato led his prisoner before the Candidate. "I brought this witch here so you can give her back her words, Colonel," El Mulato said, pointing the barrel of his rifle at the woman's head. "And then she can give you back your manhood." The Colonel and Belisa Crepusculario stared at each other, measuring one another from a distance. The men knew then that their leader would never undo the witchcraft of those accursed words, because the whole world could see the voracious-puma eyes soften as the woman walked to him and took his hand in hers. Copyright © 1989 by Isabel Allende From The Stories of Eva Luna, Translated by Margaret Sayers Peden

What is a Plant Cell? Plant cells are eukaryotic cells that vary in several fundamental factors from other eukaryotic organisms. Both plant and animal cells contain a nucleus along with similar organelles. One of the distinctive aspects of a plant cell is the presence of a cell wall outside the cell membrane. Plant Cell Structure Just like different organs within the body, plant cell structure includes various components known as cell organelles that perform different functions to sustain itself. These organelles include: Cell Wall It is a rigid layer which is composed of polysaccharides cellulose, pectin and hemicellulose. It is located outside the cell membrane. It also comprises glycoproteins and polymers such as lignin, cutin, or suberin. The primary function of the cell wall is to protect and provide structural support to the cell. The plant cell wall is also involved in protecting the cell against mechanical stress and providing form and structure to the cell. It also filters the molecules passing in and out of it. The formation of the cell wall is guided by microtubules. It consists of three layers, namely, primary, secondary and the middle lamella. The primary cell wall is formed by cellulose laid down by enzymes. Cell membrane It is the semi-permeable membrane that is present within the cell wall. It is composed of a thin layer of protein and fat. The cell membrane plays an important role in regulating the entry and exit of specific substances within the cell. For instance, cell membrane keeps toxins from entering inside, while nutrients and essential minerals are transported across. Nucleus The nucleus is a membrane-bound structure that is present only in eukaryotic cells. The vital function of a nucleus is to store DNA or hereditary information required for cell division, metabolism and growth. 1. Nucleolus: It manufactures cells’ protein-producing structures and ribosomes. 2. Nucleopore: Nuclear membrane is perforated with holes called nucleopore that allow proteins and nucleic acids to pass through. Plastids They are membrane-bound organelles that have their own DNA. They are necessary to store starch and to carry out the process of photosynthesis. It is also used in the synthesis of many molecules, which form the building blocks of the cell. Some of the vital types of plastids and their functions are stated below: Leucoplasts They are found in the non-photosynthetic tissue of plants. They are used for the storage of protein, lipid and starch. Chromoplasts They are heterogeneous, colored plastid which is responsible for pigment synthesis and for storage in photosynthetic eukaryotic organisms. Chromoplasts have red-, orange- and yellow-colored pigments which provide color to all ripe fruits and flowers. Central Vacuole It occupies around 30% of the cell’s volume in a mature plant cell. Tonoplast is a membrane that surrounds the central vacuole. The vital function of the central vacuole apart from storage is to sustain turgor pressure against the cell wall. The central vacuole consists of cell sap. It is a mixture of salts, enzymes and other substances. Golgi Apparatus They are found in all eukaryotic cells, which are involved in distributing synthesized macromolecules to various parts of the cell. Ribosomes They are the smallest membrane-bound organelles which comprise RNA and protein. They are the sites for protein synthesis, hence, also referred to as the protein factories of the cell. Mitochondria They are the double-membraned organelles found in the cytoplasm of all eukaryotic cells. They provide energy by breaking down carbohydrate and sugar molecules, hence they are also referred to as the “Powerhouse of the cell.” Lysosome Lysosomes are called suicidal bags as they hold digestive enzymes in an enclosed membrane. They perform the function of cellular waste disposal by digesting worn-out organelles, food particles and foreign bodies in the cell. In plants, the role of lysosomes is undertaken by the vacuoles. Chloroplasts It is an elongated organelle enclosed by phospholipid membrane. The chloroplast is shaped like a disc and the stroma is the fluid within the chloroplast that comprises a circular DNA. Each chloroplast contains a green colored pigment called chlorophyll required for the process of photosynthesis. The chlorophyll absorbs light energy from the sun and uses it to transform carbon dioxide and water into glucose. Structure of Chloroplast Chloroplasts are found in all higher plants. It is oval or biconvex, found within the mesophyll of the plant cell. The size of the chloroplast usually varies between 4-6 µm in diameter and 1-3 µm in thickness. They are double-membrane organelle with the presence of outer, inner and intermembrane space. There are two distinct regions present inside a chloroplast known as the grana and stroma. • Grana are made up of stacks of disc-shaped structures known as thylakoids or lamellae. The granum of the chloroplast consists of chlorophyll pigments and are the functional units of chloroplasts. • Stroma is the homogenous matrix which contains grana and is similar to the cytoplasm in cells in which all the organelles are embedded. Stroma also contains various enzymes, DNA, ribosomes, and other substances. Stroma lamellae function by connecting the stacks of thylakoid sacs or grana. The chloroplast structure consists of the following parts: Membrane Envelope It comprises inner and outer lipid bilayer membranes. The inner membrane separates the stroma from the intermembrane space. Intermembrane Space The space between inner and outer membranes. Thylakoid System (Lamellae) The system is suspended in the stroma. It is a collection of membranous sacs called thylakoids or lamellae. The green colored pigments called chlorophyll are found in the thylakoid membranes. It is the sight for the process of light-dependent reactions of the photosynthesis process. The thylakoids are arranged in stacks known as grana and each granum contains around 10-20 thylakoids. Stroma It is a colorless, alkaline, aqueous, protein-rich fluid present within the inner membrane of the chloroplast present surrounding the grana. Grana Stack of lamellae in plastids is known as grana. These are the sites of conversion of light energy into chemical energy. Chlorophyll It is a green photosynthetic pigment that helps in the process of photosynthesis. Functions of Chloroplast Following are the important chloroplast functions: • The most important function of the chloroplast is to synthesize food by the process of photosynthesis. • Absorbs light energy and converts it into chemical energy. • Chloroplast has a structure called chlorophyll which functions by trapping the solar energy and is used for the synthesis of food in all green plants. • Produces NADPH and molecular oxygen (O 2 ) by photolysis of water. • Produces ATP – Adenosine triphosphate by the process of photosynthesis. • The carbon dioxide (CO2) obtained from the air is used to generate carbon and sugar during the Calvin Cycle or dark reaction of photosynthesis. Mitochondria “Mitochondria are membrane-bound organelles present in the cytoplasm of all eukaryotic cells, that produce adenosine triphosphate (ATP), the main energy molecule used by the cell.” What are Mitochondria? Popularly known as the “Powerhouse of the cell,” mitochondria (singular: mitochondrion) are a double membrane-bound organelle found in most eukaryotic organisms. They are found inside the cytoplasm and essentially function as the cell’s “digestive system.” They play a major role in breaking down nutrients and generating energy-rich molecules for the cell. Many of the biochemical reactions involved in cellular respiration take place within the mitochondria. The term ‘mitochondrion’ is derived from the Greek words “mitos” and “chondrion” which means “thread” and “granules-like”, respectively. It was first described by a German pathologist named Richard Altmann in the year 1890. Structure of Mitochondria • The mitochondrion is a double-membraned, rod-shaped structure found in both plant and animal cell. • Its size ranges from 0.5 to 1.0 micrometers in diameter. • The structure comprises an outer membrane, an inner membrane, and a gel-like material called the matrix. • The outer membrane and the inner membrane are made of proteins and phospholipid layers separated by the intermembrane space. • The outer membrane covers the surface of the mitochondrion and has a large number of special proteins known as porins. Cristae The inner membrane of mitochondria is rather complex in structure. It has many folds that form a layered structure called cristae, and this helps in increasing the surface area inside the organelle. The cristae and the proteins of the inner membrane aid in the production of ATP molecules. The inner mitochondrial membrane is strictly permeable only to oxygen and ATP molecules. A number of chemical reactions take place within the inner membrane of mitochondria. Mitochondrial Matrix The mitochondrial matrix is a viscous fluid that contains a mixture of enzymes and proteins. It also comprises ribosomes, inorganic ions, mitochondrial DNA, nucleotide cofactors, and organic molecules. The enzymes present in the matrix play an important role in the synthesis of ATP molecules. Functions of Mitochondria The most important function of mitochondria is to produce energy through the process of oxidative phosphorylation. It is also involved in the following process: 1. Regulates the metabolic activity of the cell 2. Promotes the growth of new cells and cell multiplication 3. Helps in detoxifying ammonia in the liver cells 4. Plays an important role in apoptosis or programmed cell death 5. Responsible for building certain parts of the blood and various hormones like testosterone and estrogen 6. Helps in maintaining an adequate concentration of calcium ions within the compartments of the cell 7. It is also involved in various cellular activities like cellular differentiation, cell signaling, cell senescence, controlling the cell cycle and in cell growth. Disorders Associated with Mitochondria Any irregularity in the way mitochondria function can directly affect human health, but often, it is difficult to identify because symptoms differ from person to person. Disorders of the mitochondria can be quite severe; in some cases, they can even cause an organ to fail.

Related quizzes

Related quizzes