Finally Mary contemplated confidence. Confidence, that elusive creature with the shifting eyes who lived just out of reach. The slippery one who briefly lived in the hearts of bold men. For why would Confidence need a home, when he depends on no one? He pops in and out of his many dwellings, gracing his hosts with his presence. Waits calm and patient at the ready, wishing for some brave soul to summon him. Been lurking there, then leaving and returning and going again. With luck, she would find a scale from his fin on her skin one day. She was nervous and worried now. Shy Robby! He shouldn't hafta encourage her when he had his own problems. She wanted Joe to boost Robby's faith, but he said no. These issues must be worked out alone. He'd be fine once his courage showed itself. He wouldn't lose his cool. At least, that's what he believed. But Joe said the contrary, so she knew the real outcome. Even if he hadn't, the next day she would know for sure, because people started to whisper and laugh and the faith fled to the cold, dark waters. Fears that wouldn't have risked showing themselves in the light darted out into the dim depths. Just crouched there and mocked. Doubt, that crippling whisper, had stolen another chance.
To match Hurston's writing style, I used(besides the same sentence structure) alliteration and interesting verbs. I think the pastiche is kind of vague, too, a lot like how Hurston is vague throughout her whole novel.
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