into the adult years
longing for a kiss
on a hot summer
day
never had much luck
when i was younger
and that has carried
right into the adult
years
and i know, when i
give up they will come
out of the shadows
tell me all the things
i wanted to hear years
ago
back when love had
a chance
when dreams weren't
extinguished
when desire still
resided in this
house
-------------------------------------------------------------
as fleeting as they may be
ponder death like
there is some other
option
childhood memories
come flooding by
the pain, the joy,
the heartbroken
nights of all
those years
remind yourself
of the good times
as fleeting as
they may be
they are all you
have left in times
like this
when the first kiss
was so much more
the night you spent
in a stranger's arms
lost in the stars and
the futile belief in
hope
and when tomorrow
doesn't come
will everything be
a mess
all that could have
been has expired
i suppose the best
thing about death
procrastination is
no longer possible
---------------------------------------------------------
her soft hands
a black woman
cut my hair
today
brought back the
memories of what
i always thought
my adult life
would be like
a black wife
cutting my hair
in the kitchen
her soft hands
gently caressing
my hair
different kind of
small talk than
today of course
she thanked me
for the tip
ten dollars
she told me her
daughter has
discovered
brand names
so, i knew she
needed it
--------------------------------------------------------
a public enemy song
got a letter from
the government
fuck, my life is now
a public enemy song
they declined one
of my medications
obviously, i'm starting
to live better than they
will allow
i guess we no longer
want people striving
to be better, etc.
just fucking die
already
i suppose that's one
way to balance
a budget
all it really does
is feed into my
inner child's long
held belief that
they are out
to get me
i'm just about at
that age where a
mass shooting
really makes
sense
--------------------------------------------------------------------
come around and say hello
a bottle of rye
to keep you
warm
these are the nights
where you wouldn't
mind a few ghosts to
come around and say
hello
there's a longing
in your soul that
cuts deeper than
anyone knows
a tragedy waiting
to happen
the endless pursuit
of endless possibilities
of endless mysteries
there must be a
breaking point
of something
good
they don't
understand
the pain
the pure fucking
misery of tomorrow
escaping death
yet again
once your number
is called just accept
it
it is the only way
out
J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) is old enough to know better. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at Disturb the Universe Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, Mad Swirl, Yellow Mama and Horror Sleaze Trash. Most days he is taking care of his disabled mother. In the rare moment of free time, he'll be making bets on sports or finding a few seconds for a nap. You sometimes can find him at his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
Once a man went near a sea and said to the water, “Tell me something about you.” The water said to the man, “I can bring flood and can destroy a country, People drink me when they feel thirst, People use me to wash their bodies.” After hearing this the man again said to the water, “You have so much power that you can destroy a country but you always take the shape of the thing where you’re kept.” Saying this, the man took water in a pot and went from there.
The role of shadowing techniques in enhancing the speaking ability of EFL Learners
Kaljanova Gulmira
EFL teacher of Uzbekistan State World Languages University
Olimova Shahina Botirjon qizi
Student of Uzbekistan State World Languages University
Abstract: The article investigates the effectiveness of innovative approach through using shadowing technique on teaching speaking skills to students learning English as a second language. Shadowing technique plays a vital role in improving speaking abilities of EFL learners. It is a language learning method that involves listening to audio materials and simultaneously repeating what is heard, improves pronunciation, fluency, and overall communication.
Key words: ELF teachers, shadowing technique, language method, feedback, innovative approach.Introduction: Many EFL teachers try to use shadowing technique during their lessons to help students to speak as native speakers. Shadowing is a language technique that involves following and imitating a native speaker while they are talking. Shadowing is not only improves speaking ability, but also helps to make listening skill better. There some steps that teachers should pay attention more in term of using this method.
How students can do shadowing effectively?
Step 1: Find favourite people or movie. Students need to know their interests and try to find out engaging videos depend on it. For example, if they love watching documentaries, they may select one episode that continues about 2 minutes. The most important thing there is that the lengths of episode should be less, because it would be boring, if students imitate long without break.
Step 2: Listen actively In this part, students should analyze the overall speech of character or celebrity and pay attention to their pronunciation, intonation, rhythm. In the first time if needed, students can switch on subtitle of the movie or video.
Step 3: Repeat.While a native speaker is talking, repeating not only their speech, but also movements is more effective. This means doing the same mimics, using the same intonation and mimicking their pronunciation.
Step 4: Recording part After preparing, students should record their speech, and compare it with video. Recording is useful for checking grammatical and pronunciation mistakes. Students need to try to match their speech with a native speaker did.
Step 5: Checking.Listening the original audio and recording, and comparing the differences between it is vital for this part. This allows students to assess themself and improve their speech. If students notice any mistakes, they should correct them and record again until it becomes perfect.
Step 6: Doing more shadowingWhile doing shadowing, students should be consistent. They should make shadowing a daily part of their language learning routine. The more they practice they see more improvement in their speaking skill.
Step 7: Enjoy the process.If a learner loves the language, learning process would be more interesting and engaging. During learning they can watch movies or documentaries, it not only for entertainment, but also useful for educational purposes. The length of reaching another level would be fast, if a learner loves that he or she is doing.
Research and discussion:The research was conducted in seminar classes between 18-years old students. Teachers selected 20 students and they were divided into 2 groups. For the first group, teachers used traditional methods in lessons, while the second group was taught with shadowing technique.
During the processes, teachers and students selected several podcasts related to how to improve communication skills. In the first week, students watched B2 level videos and tried to imitate it. They didn’t pay attention to recording and finding their mistakes. Next week, while shadowing students recorded their voice and listened after shadowing. They were able to find not only pronunciation mistakes, but also they found errors related to grammatical range.
Apart from that, they imitated characters with gestures, it helped they to act like a native speaker. After 2 weeks, teachers compared two groups according to speaking assessment, second group performed well in term of overall communication skills as compared to first one. Various studies support the positive effects of shadowing on EFL learners.
In 2015, Hamada found that Japanese university students who practiced shadowing for ten weeks significantly improved their speaking fluency and listening comprehension compared to control group. Second research was conducted by Mochizuki in 2018. Mochizuki concluded that shadowing promotes self-monitoring and language awareness, both crucial for speaking development.
Conclusion: In conclusion, teaching shadowing is a powerful instructional strategy that enhances language acquisition, promotes active learning, and fosters deeper engagement with the material. By allowing students to imitate and practice language use in real-time, shadowing not only improves their pronunciation and fluency but also builds their confidence in using the language.
Furthermore, this technique encourages critical listening skills and reinforces comprehension through repetition. As educators integrate shadowing into their curricula, they provide students with valuable opportunities to develop their linguistic abilities in a supportive environment. Ultimately, the benefits of teaching shadowing extend beyond mere language skills; they cultivate a lifelong love for learning and empower students to communicate effectively in an increasingly interconnected world.
Shadowing is the most effective method in learning foreign languages. It helps to improve not only listening skills or speaking ability, but also with using this method, students can learn how to sound as natives. For EFL learners, through using shadowing technique, teachers could able to improve their speaking skills. If teachers pay attention on steps of using shadowing in classes, it would be more effective for students.
References:1. Brown, A. (2019). Shadowing Techniques in Language Acquisition: Theory and Practice. New York: Language Learning Press.2. Carter, S., & Lee, T. (2020). Mastering Shadowing: Effective Strategies for Language Learners. London: Education Innovations.3. Garcia, M. (2018). The Art of Shadowing: Enhancing Fluency through Imitation. San Francisco: Fluent Press.4. Kim, J., & Park, H. (2021). Shadowing in Second Language Learning: A Comprehensive Guide. Boston: Academic Publishers.5. Thompson, R. (2022). Shadowing for Success: Building Listening Skills in a Foreign Language. Chicago: Linguistic Studies Press.6. Wilson, L., & Zhang, Y. (2020). Innovative Approaches to Shadowing in Language Education. Toronto: Global Language Academy.
first publication in Hellbender Magazine, Winter 2025 issue.
Who it was
To be honest, I don't know who it was. He just came out and said that he would live with us in the kitchen now. A small piece of a man inside a stone. We decided not to argue, and a small piece of a man inside a stone settled in our house.
Over time, he needed more space to live, so we moved to the basement (we imagined that it was a bomb shelter, and not a basement where we could be buried to death by rubble). The khaki-colored sea was burning with the sun, but we know that the sun doesn't care who it shines for, and the side and the gun don't care either about blood or sperm. An endless sea. Such a space.
If you repeat the same actions every day, time will not stop. Even if you die, time will not stop. The parents got tired of sitting in the basement and went outside into death and old age. Old age smells like a burden, like childhood.
The parents looked around: there were animal corpses and soldiers' guts lying around. I feel most sorry for animals because it is not their fault that they live on a human planet and are not capable of thinking so deeply that they can fall into the abyss. My parents went outside and disappeared like pigeons in a minefield of life (plants and flowers grow on the earth, but the bones of the violently killed lie underground).
The light bulb in my personal basement was constantly blinking, and I was stealing money from my health and talent to pay for artificial light. A friend of mine had a grandmother who was fed condensed milk from the Third Reich by Wehrmacht soldiers during the occupation.
My grandmother was not fed condensed milk at all for the first five years of her life. These years just happened to fall on the post-war hungry years. I am increasingly showing signs of diabetes. Perhaps I ate too much condensed milk as a child. And the flowers without graves continued to grow.
And the graves without flowers continued to grow. Graves without names: just remains dumped in a pile (this is called, according to Soviet tradition, the "tomb of the unknown soldier"). Another friend of mine didn't have a grandmother (how his mother was born remains a mystery).
It's very difficult to change light bulbs in the dark. My personal basement was damp, and bones were growing stickily under my bed (at night, the same bones were burning in the red prison sky). My grandmother, or as she called her babushka, will never see this again.
My grandmother didn't see much, for example, the northern lights or the southern Italian embankment. My friend's grandmother only saw endless concentration camps and the rails on which prisoners were transported from a German concentration camp. And straight to a Soviet concentration camp (it's something like an Indian ghetto or slave labor in Africa, only without any connection to nationality).
Sooner or later, they will kill everyone: even themselves. Sometimes, I let the cat out of the basement: it reflexively hunted mice, then played with the corpse for a long time, then gnawed. I could regularly see the mouse remains at the entrance to the basement. And my cat often vomited (usually grass).
I, too, often feel a sense of emptiness at the frozen snowy silence from what I have seen. My cat doesn't see anything and doesn't even know what war is. And I don't tell him about it anyway: what if he starts protecting our house from the blast wave and dies?
It’s funny, I still haven’t figured out the gender of my cat, but by default, I think he’s a boy. Actually, this isn't even my cat, and I don't understand how we ended up on the same ark together. When I first saw him, he was clean and skinny, like a Jew who found himself in the gas chamber of Auschwitz or a Polish prisoner about to be shot by the NKVD.
This all reminds me of a sad fact: someday my cat will die without ever knowing that a war has broken out. What’s more, my cat will never know why the war started. I will probably die, too, without ever finding out why people go to war.
I want to die without finding out that there is a war. my basement was gradually filling with the water of time, and I couldn't swim like a statue of a dead man. Something was bursting in my eardrums of memory.
Sometimes, the crow king would visit me like a picture and peck at my hair. Someone coughed blood into my eyes. Somewhere in the basement, the pipes of tired lungs hummed.
Some god soared up and did not kiss me like Hyacinth (I probably won't come back). Some day, i looked into the mirror of my own world history. The reflection did stirred. To be honest, I don't know who it was.
Mr. Tough Knuckles
"I want you to understand what you've done, Johnny." The man looked at the boy sternly. "I want you to understand what it means to destroy property. It means something."
The boy looked worried in a vague way, but was silent.
"It wasn't just the window you broke, Mr. I-Like-Throwing-Rocks."
The boy's expression did not change.
"There was a complete set of very fine heirloom china on a table in the room where the window was broken. Most of the china was negatively affected. The window, all that very nice china, and the memories contained in the china, all broken by you.Also, on that very day, there was, by a twist of medicalized fate, a bottle of human urine in the room that was by consequence of your impulsive and selfish actions, over turned. A large part of the carpet was stained and the resulting odor was pervasive. Mr. Littlejohn has recently informed me the stench is still lingering."
The boy's nose wrinkled as consequence of the man's description, but the boy still said nothing.
"I'd like you to think, Johnny, of the meaning of your actions and their consequences. I'd like you to take some time and think. Really, really use your mind. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, Johnny."
Silence.
"Well, Johnny?"
A longer silence. The man folded his arms impatiently.
"I’m waiting, Johnny."
"I'm thinking," said the boy softly with a hint of firmness.
"Good! Very good, Johnny. I'm chuffed to hear you're thinking. Please, keep thinking, and I'd like for you to tell me exactly what it is you're thinking. I'd like for you to put actual words to your thoughts and to communicate them to me directly.”
Silence.
“Can you say something, Johnny?”
Silence. The man leaned toward the boy, and the boy made a fist and scratched his knuckles on his front teeth.
“Well. This defiance is unacceptable. I can only conclude, Mr. Tough Knuckles, you’ve been toying with me from the very start. I think you actually desired to cause damage to private property. In your mind—the law calls it mens rea, Johnny—you truly are a destructive little turk, aren’t you? Henceforth, we will have to seriously correct this attitude.”
“I wouldn’t piss into the wind of this market.”
“Excuse me, young man?”
“Pissed away years of gains.”
“This is completely unacceptable, Johnny.”
“Piss on me, I piss on you.”
“I’m nonplussed! I simply have no choice now, Johnny. This issimply beyond thought! Your days at this school are over, and I will be contacting your parents immediately. Piss on me?Indeed.”
Johnny found his way outside and walked around the parking lot as the night approached. He picked up a rock and threw it at an Audi SUV, shouting, “The bond market’s goin’ to the pisser!”
MJ
"I've never met a chest of drawers I didn't like, and you, dear, are no exception."
"Joseph, you've become tiresome. The most deadliest of sins, really."
"Your drawers are of exceptional quality. They slide silently with the best of them. They slide on air."
"Words slide on air. Yours do."
"Your legs. Let's not forget them. A chest of drawers is nothing, nothing, nothing at all, without sturdy legs."
"If you keep this up, you will realize what it means to have neither leg to stand on."
"I will perorate upon your drawer knobs. In a class of their own, darling."
"I’ll terminate monthly payments to your account if you don't stop talking immediately."
Joseph raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. He twisted swiftly away from the woman towards the open balcony doors, picking up his vodka ice. He took a sip and looked over his shoulder at the woman, asking her tartly, "Who was it who said life is a brief wave from a balcony?"
"Twas my dear husband, Jojo."
"No, no, it was MJ.” Joseph danced toward the balcony railing, laughing, drinking, and beckoning to the woman. “Isn’t it time for a little moonwalk, darling?"
It means a straight path—unbending and direct. Apparently, crows love to fly in straight lines. They aren’t troubled by bends or barriers, not like us earth-bound beings facing obstacles at every turn. And unlike airplanes, crows aren’t bound by strict navigation systems.
In practice, this idiom often shows up when talking about routes—be it literal or metaphorical. But walking or living as the crow flies, my friend, is not an easy job at all. Sure, you know a straight line will get you to your destination faster, but can you really glide across homes, crowds, fences, and ponds just because you want to follow a straight line? Can you thumb your nose at every twist and turn in life and embrace the simplicity of the straight path?
It’s a familiar question. And its answer isn’t unknown. A simple life is delightful—but becoming simple is a terribly hard thing. And yet, sometimes, miracles happen. Like a sudden spring that paints black tar roads in fiery hues of Palash flowers. Then, and only then, the path becomes like that of the crow—straight and unhindered.
What’s that? Things are getting too tangled? Alright then, no more delay—let’s begin the story.
***************
That day, Prabir was getting ready for office, as usual. He was caught in a whirlpool of tasks and thoughts. In the middle of this rush, his phone rang. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Unknown number.
He picked it up, irritation evident in his voice:
“Hello? Who’s speaking?”
No response.
“Ugh!” He was about to hang up—when a low, grating, mechanical sound came through.
Then, a hoarse whisper:
“Prabir! Son, don’t go out today! Today is… different. Stay home.”
Who on earth calls to say nonsense like that during busy office hours? He was just about to snap back when the line went dead.
No time to waste. There was an urgent group meeting at work—being late could be disastrous.
He grabbed his car keys and left. But something unsettling had lodged in his mind.
Who had called? What were they trying to say?
The voice… it sounded familiar. But he couldn’t quite place it. His mind grew absent. A faint melody seemed to rise near his ears—first just a murmur, then clearer:
“Life’s no longer straight and narrow / Laughter today is just borrowed / I survived—but barely so…”
It was true. Life was tangled in needless complexity. Work, more work, and more work. Always running. No time to pause, to notice the magic in the ordinary.
Chasing deadlines and targets had left him drained.
Stuck in traffic, he reflected on all this—until suddenly, his senses snapped back.
The world around him had changed, as if by magic. No traffic jam ahead. No bustling crowd on the sidewalks. No weekday chaos. And he wasn’t even driving—but the car was speeding ahead on a silent, unknown road, straight as an arrow. Was this possible? Or a nightmare?
He pinched himself.
“Ow!”
Nope, he was wide awake.
Then, like a flash of lightning, he remembered—
That voice earlier? It had been his uncle Hari. Uncle Hari, who had died five years ago from a terminal illness!
A chill ran down his spine. Was danger approaching? He tried desperately to control the car—but it was no use. He had no control. No one around. Even if there were, who could stop this possessed vehicle? Still, by instinct, he screamed:
“Help! Help me! Please, for God’s sake—help!”
Just then, he noticed a young woman sitting beside him.
Masked.
Her eyes caught his attention—intense, magnetic. Even amid this chaos, they captivated him. Her gaze held sorrow. A deep, distant sadness. She reached out to the steering wheel. With a mere touch, almost magically, the car slowed a little. Still racing forward, but calmer now.
Prabir, voice shaking, asked:
“Y-you… how did you get here?”
She stared at him, wide-eyed, sharp-toned:
“What do you mean how? You were the one yelling your lungs out—Help me! Help me!
And now that I’ve come, instead of saying thank you, you’re interrogating me?”
She pulled down her mask. Her face clouded with a storm of hurt.
Prabir cleared his throat awkwardly:
“Sorry, sorry! You’re right. I forgot myself completely. The way this morning’s been going—my head’s about to explode. Anyway, thank you. Thank you so much.”
She stayed quiet, lips pursed. Then said in a choked voice:
“Forget it. You’re only thanking me because I pointed it out. Otherwise you wouldn’t have.”
Then came the downpour. Rain matched her heavy sighs as she went on:
“I always try to help people. Always. But people… they misunderstand me. They say awful things behind my back. Smile to my face, then betray me.I don’t need anyone. I have no friends.”
Prabir was in a proper fix now. The haunted road. The possessed car. And now, this mysteriously appearing girl filled with sorrow and magic. But it was true—if she hadn’t slowed the car, he might have had a heart attack by now. Her sadness touched him.
Gently, he said:
“Hey… don’t be sad. We’re friends now.”
He extended his right hand for a handshake. She looked at it suspiciously. Then wiped her eyes and took his hand. A soft smile spread across her lips.
“You seem like a good person. That’s why I came when you called for help. Okay, then—we’re friends from today.”
The car was now cruising gently along the straight road.
Another change:
Earlier, the road was flanked only by thorny shrubs. Now, silk cotton and gulmohar trees lined the path, ablaze with red flowers. Even the black tar seemed to blush with their hue.
Prabir hesitated a bit, then asked:
“Yes. Definitely—we’re friends. But tell me something. What is happening to me? The car is driving itself. You showed up out of nowhere. How did you hear my call for help? And how did you enter this locked car?”
The girl laughed, like a waterfall—clear and musical.
Then said:
“You really don’t know? Well, just like crows fly—Sometimes, humans get to travel that way too. Not everyone. But some. On very special days. Like today—you got the chance. As for how I knew? And how I entered the car? We can do that. Such things aren’t difficult for us.”
Her voice had regained its sweetness—but her words were strange.
Prabir stammered, “N-now w-who’re we?”
She replied, quietly, seriously:
“I’ve never told anyone this. I won’t again. We are the forms of consciousness—the Chaitan-rupis. Those for whom rainbows rise even in deserts. We are they. Keep this secret. You can’t trust everyone like you. Usually I lock my heart in a vault. Too many spoil it. Not everyone’s like you.”
Prabir didn’t fully understand. He just laughed awkwardly and scratched his head.
After that, they passed time chatting. Prabir lost track of how long. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. Grotesque figures—half-human, half-beast—stood blocking their path.
They circled the car, leering and making obscene gestures at Prabir and his mysterious companion.
Yes, Anamika—that’s what Prabir had decided to call her in his mind. Maybe she isn’t ordinary and somewhat uncanny. But she is good.
The grotesque cheers of those hideous humanoid figures had nearly deafened the two of them. Anamika had been quite composed until now. But suddenly, she seemed to shrink inward. Tiny tears streamed down her cheeks. Prabir’s heart ached too, but his jaw tightened with resolve. He held Anamika close with both arms.
A few words escaped his lips.
“Don’t be sad at all, Anamika. Why should you let people who hold no place in your life, good or bad, hurt you? Don’t let them make you sad. Just imagine you’re watching a film. They’re all acting. So don’t let it get to you.”
The girl wiped her eyes and softly said,
“Anamika… what a beautiful name! I really like it. And now I’m no longer sad. Because you’re here—as my friend.”
The car had started moving again, gathering speed. Those grotesque human-like figures had been flung far behind. A few tried to chase after the car—but failed to catch up.
In a tone of mock regret, Prabir said to Anamika,
“Looks like I’ve lost my job!”
Anamika replied,
“You’ll find another. But if you hadn’t come this strange way—like a crow in flight—we’d have never met. What would’ve happened then?”
Prabir gave a soft smile and nodded in agreement. As the crimson glow of the setting sun stained the horizon, his lips gently touched Anamika’s forehead.
The car kept gliding forward in a soothing rhythm—straight and steady. Just like a crow flies!
