leaves soothed the moment accompanied by birds overhead. But the overcast day was soon disrupted by a distant snap of a twig. It was followed by thuds of a foot connecting to the mossy forest floor. Then a figure of a man popped between the dense forest. “Run!” he said between every pant‚ “Run hurry!” A small group of 5 gathered their gear swiftly and proceeded to do as he says. Run. “Why are we running!” exclaimed a hunter. The man trying to gather his breath said‚ “Mekas‚ a bunch of them!” Synced
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peered inside the ball and coughed as a puff of thick gas escaped from the opening. The smoke shimmered and flickered around her body‚ licking at her face and tasting the nerves on her skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms as the smooth air slithered between her ankles and curled around her neck. She swatted the air‚ backing away to escape the veil of iridescent gas. Disoriented‚ she stumbled further into the crowd of bushes and fell into the dewy grass. The air began to crackle with a tense
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quicken in his movements. He began shambling his way back towards Steaks and Mary‚ who by now had spaced themselves a distance. Steaks quickly pulled Lovienthal’s small kitchen table in front of him and Mary creating an impromptu barrier between them and the infected man. Lovienthal finally appeared in the kitchen behind Steaks and Mary to see what all the commotion was about‚ his sudden appearance causing the dead man to turn his attention on him. The dead man gave Lovienthal an
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crossed the unspoken line we had agreed upon back in my apprenticing days. "Wolfspirit‚" Flamestar meowed calmly‚ breaking the silence. My eyes raised up to meet his‚ "I understand what this looks similar to‚ but I assure you‚ nothing has happened between me and Leafwatcher...I love Morningshine with all my heart and I would neve-" "What about that time I found you secretly meeting with Deerpatch?" I interrupted with an angry growl before he even used the chance to start his poorly-planned lie.
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because that is where all their dreams are able to come true. No one wants a world of grief and sorrow. Life should be lived to its fullest. It should not be wasted. It should be embraced. When we are faced with agony‚ we must either make a choice between accepting it or hiding from it. In the play “A Streetcar Named Desire” by Tennessee Williams‚ the author mainly focuses on Blanche Dubois‚ a woman who moved to her sister’s house due to the loss of Belle Reve‚ her family home. She is a deceptive and
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The minibus jolted to a halt. Taking a step down‚ I tried to piece everything that had happened. Aunt Adeline‚ Ava‚ the man – strangely by the name of Dimitri Viavondachi… Mama. The gap between the last step and the molten coloured dusty earth‚ was wide and as big as the fissure of weariness‚ agony‚ and hurt‚ swirling deep in the empty depths. Ten years‚ and I had lived on a cloud of lies‚ as each day had passed‚ I had turned with a sense of direction – a future. Now all there had been was shattered
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The red sphere of fury. Ever since day one of the sport‚ that’s how I referred to the kickball. It never changed. I have been terrified of this faded red ball coming anywhere near my face‚ so I never bothered to run for a catch‚ or even really try. That’s probably why I was never any good at sports. I was okay at tennis‚ and maybe even moderately good at cross country. But anything that involved me catching a ball‚ you might as well already say I lost. So naturally‚ when I ran up to kick the ball
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One cold morning‚ just as the sun had risen above High Street‚ two men‚ both in black‚ dashed hurriedly out of the Merlin Bank. One of the men wore a beard‚ and both were trim and fit looking‚ in their late thirties or early forties. They both carried briefcases‚ from which large denominations of banknotes were poking out; the first man was also carrying a sack with rectangular shaped packets silhouetted against the side; he called out to the one following‚ “Get a move on‚ Gilbert; we will miss our
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One serene spring evening‚ the snow goddess Chione was helping her mother Orithyia grow trees in time for the season of winter. Chione was a wonderful young lady‚ she had long luxurious dark hair indistinguishable to that of a wolf‚ splendid cocoa eyes that mirrored the sap that is expelled from a Sycamore tree‚ and snow white skin. Being the daughter of Boreas‚ the Bringer of Winter and divine force of the North Wind‚ she had inherited her father’s forces of the cold. Moreover‚ she had been honored
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Short Story Content Analysis Essay What is the point of any piece of great literature? Or rather‚ what is great literature? Some would say that accomplished literature is a way of exceptionally telling a story. However‚ what is the point of storytelling? In many cases‚ stories are told for entertainment. However‚ most stories have a moral or theme conveying an important message about life or how to live it. This is the point of great literature‚ to convey this message beautifully. Some pieces of
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