Wasting no time she pulls the dagger from between her teeth cutting the Bullongs throat while it was down. The cut deep enough to cull across the jugular as it raised it arm to hit her with what was left of its strength. The young woman hopping out of the way with ease from its slow movements before falling to the ground on its stomach in a heap. But she wouldn’t drop her guard her eyes glaring at its back till the last raise and fall of its breath. Then and only then would she let out a sigh of
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Chapter One Sherlock Holmes had made an enemy. It was not in his best interests‚ with the detective just closing up a murder case that involved a bloodthirsty beast and multiple killers. It’s no secret many people would love to put a bullet through him‚ but those people are‚ more often than not‚ put behind bars. Of course‚ it did not seem to bother him at all. “Watson! You’ve made tea‚ haven’t you?” exclaimed the gentleman that sat‚ with his hands clasped‚ in a green armchair that faced the fireplace
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betrayal to my kinsmen. A lad from the king’s stable quickly offered his services and promised to tend for our tired horses. For the lost time we spend at his sister’s house‚ we climbed the stairs‚ two-by-two‚ then strode through the empty halls‚ with the exception of a few servants. Upon arriving the great hall’s open doors‚ we slowed down. The same guards‚ I had met‚ crossed their spears‚ blocking our way. “I presumed the King is aware of your visit Kushite or you wouldn’t be in my face today
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Dorothy takes a sip of water. Brian Dorothy‚ will you marry me? Dorothy starts choking from the shock of his question. Dorothy What?! Brian I have to ask you that every night. Dorothy catches her breath and clears her throat. She turns to him. Dorothy Oh‚ right. Then I always answer ‘No’. Brian stands up from the table. Brian Then good night. Dorothy Good-night. Brian leaves the dining room; and only turns back‚ now and then‚ to look at her as he leaves. Panel Dorothy reaches
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CHAPTER THREE Chris felt his stomach drop and his head spin. He tried to scream but the fall stole any sound. He knew no one could survive this fall. He saw Rose down below him. He clamped his eyes shut. The fall continued. Suddenly he felt himself slow down. His skin tickled and burned. His lips went dry and his hands numb. The heat increased as they went farther down. Their descent slowed and the tickling stopped. Finally‚ Chris felt his feet touch ground and heaved
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My eyes widened as incoherent words spilled out of my mouth‚ begging‚ "please‚ don’t shoot! It ain’t loaded!" but to no avail. I saw Dally go down‚ a crumpled heap; desperate‚ violent‚ and suffering‚ the way every hoodlum went out‚ just the way I had always hoped that Dallas could avoid. I could hear Two-Bit’s voice next to me‚ wild and panicked‚ but I couldn’t make out the words. I felt like I couldn’t move. Suddenly‚ I saw Ponyboy swaying unsteadily on his feet before he hit the ground with a
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-3‚2... "It’s off!" Shelrock shouted. "I...turned it off." he breathed out taking a few steps back. He ran his hands through his hair and inhaled deeply. (Y/N) let out a sob that was more out of relief and a little bit out of grief for her dead sister to be honest. "So‚ we’re safe? We’re- we’re okay? Sweet Jesus‚ I-" John stuttered feeling his knees shaking. Betrayed by his own legs‚ he stumbled backwards and rested his whole body on the wall beside Victoria’s painting‚ taking a good look at the
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"No‚" Aiden cries to himself. Hugging his knees to his chest‚ sea salt continued rolling out his tear glands. He hurls the book into the air— Vance’s diary he received the day before yesterday — he left it on the floor and put his attention elsewhere. Scanning the white walls that proceeded to drive him crazy‚ the sweat-drenched sheets‚ and the canopy which represented his sadness were his eyes. Barraging in his mind like a stampede were images; memories. Buzzing in his ears were words and regrets
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Ami built the evening fire to a roaring inferno‚ and as the bright orange flames filled the summit‚ licking with vigour at the darkening sky‚ the shadows danced like nymphs on the stone walls in a frenetic display. Soon‚ the fires would recede‚ leaving behind a bed of molten-red embers. Their invitingly warm glow would safeguard against the savage chill of the Arthe night. Her father and Umonakalisi had not strayed from the summit since their earlier discussion‚ and it seemed they would not be returning
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Aspects of Postmodernism in "Happy Endings" and "Videotape" According to Neil Bessner (Bessner)‚ postmodernism is a "slippery term to define" (15). If we look at the literal meaning of the word in a regular dictionary‚ we may encounter something like "a style and movement in art [ ] in the late 20th century that reacts against modern styles‚ for example by mixing features form traditional and modern styles" . In fact‚ it has extended many of the fundamental techniques and assumptions of modern
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