One time there was a violinist named Bert Flapp who wanted to become famous really bad he was good at playing the violin‚but he wasn’t the best.He tried so hard to become famous practice every night.He went on stage one night to try to win the competition for best violinist.Sadly he lost.He was so upset for years he wanted to win this competition it would of made him number one. He thought maybe if he won his dad would accept him back into the family. Since Bert told his dad he wanted to be a famous
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More success‚ more triumph. Why not? There isn’t a man‚ nay a soul‚ that could best me. But it is with wine that I celebrate my glory. The more the better‚ as wine is my source of comfort. I indeed celebrate with my trusted friend Montresor‚ who had accompanied me during the carnival season. Dusk lay across the land‚ and while the people cheered and laughed‚ I was mesmerized my what my friend had to tell me. “A pipe” I stumbled a bit by the news‚ unsure if I’d even heard it right. “Impossible! And
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“Yes‚ I have lived her as long as I can remember.” Klara grimaced a little at his next question. It was not like she was hated by the town. In fact‚ Klara had a fairly decent reputation within the town with the farmers‚ Innkeeper and the Mayor. No‚ she grimaced at the fact the townspeople were the ones to worry about. He was concerned‚ rightfully so‚ about her when Orin should be focused on them. “Well‚ the local farms would say that I am very helpful and a hard working. The Mayor would say I
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Filch fall into the deep dreams‚ He was fully sleeping and thinking about his relationship with Mrs Norris how they met. The darkness surrounded him and he was left alone in a cold place lit with dull light coming from the street lamp‚ he was sitting on a very cold road during Christmas and counting his last galleons‚ "No money‚no job‚ no family and I am 28" he thought‚ icy tears fulfilled his eyes‚ the cold and pain was killing him but he couldn’t do anything he was hopeless. The snowstorm covered
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“The Story of an Hour” by Kate Chopin is a short prose that portrays a negative point of view of the women of the Victorian Era. It unveils a woman’s true inner conflict between reality and idealism. Marriage is viewed as a constrained and male dominant relationship. Louise Mallard is led to believe that she is a widow after being incorrectly informed of her husband’s death. She is consumed with a strong mixture of emotions. At this point Louise feels a great sense of “monstrous joy”‚ in
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Ailduin ran his hand through his long black hair and rubbed his neck with a sigh. "Yeah‚ being around Zoroail isn’t exactly easy‚ or pleasant most of the time. He is not good with other people‚ not even in his own race." Ailduin paused and closed his eyes a look on his face that told Amalthea he didn’t mean to say something. "Well I guess since you are stuck with him I will tell you a bit about him. Zoroail isn’t a normal human‚ he is from Zagrazat‚ it’s an island nation far from here past the Iileria
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Toughie I used to have a husband‚ but now‚ I have a pain in my right thigh. As I rub in a deep-heating cream‚ I remember when I had a husband and our children were small. My husband brought home a tiny white kitten that was injured at a house party. His paw was crushed by a person sitting on a chair. I took the kitten reluctantly and nursed him back to good health. The kitten grew into a cat named Toughie‚ who loved us‚ his family‚ and was protective of us. We did not need a dog as we had a watch
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Jen saw the dogs first‚ their short muscular bodies scudding along the pavement like torpedoes. The Brothers and their men came after‚ followed by the girl and the fat woman. The shoppers and the tourists sensed the change in the atmosphere and parted instinctively‚ allowing them to pass. Jen hung back‚ keeping close to the buildings. Daniel and Joseph Avery were dangerous; catch their eye‚ come into their orbit‚ and you would become their victim. They stalked the streets like warlords‚ their dogs
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Once upon a time there was a man‚ Kanye. Kanye seemed to be just another normal man with normal desires til one day‚ his life as he knows it was about to change for good. Our fellow Kanye was about to start his morning routine by eating a pack of crisps and watch the telly. What he did not not was that meanwhile‚ Carl walked the pavement outside the front porch. There was not anything special about it really. But suddenly‚ the telly started to make weird noises and the lights started flashing. The
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Bivouac night sky ensnares him under a bleached moon. The pitter patter of his steps quickens as he sprints down the street. Trepidation takes him by the throat‚ filling him with shame and regret and a stagnant knell. I thought I could hear the night making noise‚ the whispering and uttering of incessant static coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. The constant‚ inescapable enigma that drapes him and everything he’s ever lived through: it’s nimbostratus veiling his heart. He can’t see through
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