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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So‚ turning on the TV‚ he turned down the sound and poured himself a full glass once he opened the bottle. As he sat in the recliner with the glass in his hand‚ he took one sip and then another before drinking the entire glass in two gulps thinking he could get a little bit of sleep if he drank just enough to get a buzz and take the edge off the nightmare. Unfortunately‚ it didn’t take a medical degree or one in psychology to know he was suffering from PTSD or that he was extremely depressed. As
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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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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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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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The man sitting next to Ellie kept trying to inquire where Ellie was going but Ellie just told him that her mother told her she wasn’t to talk to strangers. When Ellie and Piper arrived in Los Angeles‚ they set out to find Audrena. “There’s some things I need to warn you about before we see Audrena‚” Piper said‚” she must have been murdered in a horrible way because she won’t discuss her murder with anyone. So you better be a good persuader because I’m not sure she’ll tell you. It might take a few
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What So Funny? A humorous story is a comedy. A serious story is a drama. Put both of these kinds of stories together and you get Flannery O’Connor’s writing style. O’Connor’s short stories begin with an up beat tone‚ and then slowly trickle into a more serious‚ dramatical tone. This style of writing is what helped O’Connor’s stories stick in our minds from her death until now. Her short stories "A Good Man is Hard to Find"‚ "Revelation"‚ and "Good Country People" are good examples of her writing
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SYLLABUS 2010 STORIES OF OURSELVES: THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE INTERNATIONAL EXAMINATIONS ANTHOLOGY OF SHORT STORIES IN ENGLISH NOTES FOR TEACHERS on the short stories set for examination in June and November Years 2013‚ 2014‚ 2015 * © University of Cambridge International Examinations [ * NOTE: There are separate documents about the different selections of stories set for examination in years 2007- 2009 and 2010-2012.] CONTENTS Introduction: how to use these Notes The stories: The Son’s Veto
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