Statement of intent: The purpose of this piece of creative writing is to demonstrate the course of events taking place during the day in the wild and the intended audience are those who like fiction, my peers and my teacher. “I was falling, falling into a deep dark ditch. I could hear my mother's voice calling out to me, but all I could see was a hazy image of her. Appearing and disappearing in front of me, like a distant memory trying to say something. Only the language seemed foreign and I kept on falling not knowing the end…” I woke up startled, breathing heavily and covered in cold sweat. It has been a week since I first arrived in Alaska, but for some reason I have been waking up to the same dream daily, feeling suffocated, like I’m …show more content…
From the position of the sun, it seems It’s around midday, but from the cloudy gray of the sky I know the weather is changing. I peer into the water and spot one of the most magnificent sights. A group of vibrant light blue fish with silver stripes are swimming gracefully through the rippling water, nearly covering the whole surface. Unable to stop myself, I roll up my pants until I cannot bear the tightness and step into the water. Its depth only comes up to half of my calf, but as the freezing liquid surrounds me, it seems like it is almost stinging my bare skin. Yet I ignore the pain as I roll up my sleeves and slide my arms under the water. I can feel the slippery fish slithering around me as I stand still, waiting for one of the fish to come into my hands… Instantly, as fast as lightning I clasp a plump fish and lift it into the air like a trophy, while it tries to break free from my grasp. I trudge out of the water as the fish gasps for its last breaths until finally giving in. Pulling out my pocket knife, I cut open the fish and dig into its raw, rosy flesh with my eager …show more content…
Suddenly I feel something cold and wet fall on my face. Looking up, I see it's started to rain, the tiny droplets quickly turning into big heavy drops. As I was too far away from the bus, I look around to find some sort of shelter. At a short distance I spot something rocky with an opening. Without thinking twice, I sprint towards it stopping at its entrance I realise it's a cave. I step inside. My eyes take time to adjust to the darkness while I reach for my lighter in my pocket and flick it on. I look around nervously. Inside it is really gloomy and smells musty. On the wall next to me, hangs a very old torch, but as soon as I light it up it ignites into a blazing ball of fire bringing brightness to the dark cave. The walls of the cave are covered with creepers. Yet it seems like a place where once some human may have inhabited because there is an old steel cup lying on the floor along with some other man made items that are hard to distinguish. Outside the rain has now changed into snow so knowing I will be here longer I travel deeper into the cave, stopping at a
THE PAST :.. In days gone by, the four species managed to live in perfect harmony. Witches, werewolves and vampires lived in secret, blending in with the humans on a daily basis - and the humans remained completely in the dark about their existence. It was after thousands of years of living this way, whilst everything was completely normal, that a small group of vampires decided that they’d had enough. They spent months devising plans.
The previous week they had performed the spell successfully. After contacting Mordred, Merlin and Morgana had arranged to meet him and Aglain, the leader of the druid camp, in the woods near a small waterfall, halfway between Camelot and the grave of Gorlois. Morgana always went on her annual pilgrimage to her father's tomb at this time of the year, at the end of spring.
There were once three friends Luke, Adam, and Eli. They were running for their lives from alien soldiers. They had only some food, water and a knife each. “Runnnnn they're gaining on us!” yelled Luke who was at the front. After they lost them they stopped to rest. They were in the forest of pyrex. They knew they had to get to hi valley for it was the only safe place in all the world. They were close to the place thought they just had to avoid many soldiers and bullets and then it would be a straight shot to the valley. Eli pointed to a map and said “It might be a few day stretch from here.” “But” interrupted Adam “There are soldiers everywhere that will shoot you on the spot,” luke said “We should go this way through the Spirit forest because, there is no way any soldier would go through it.” even though the voyage would take longer it was the safest way.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
As the night approached, Cassie dreaded going to sleep. She had been plagued by dreams of a young man with mysterious hazel eyes. As she prepared for bed, she grabbed her old worn out blue journal full of notes about her dreams. She laid down on her small, yet cozy bed, engulfing herself in her grandmother’s tattered hand-me-down quilt. As soon as she fell asleep the dreams began.
Friday Evening Alaric occupies a familiar stool at the Grill; a sulky, raven-haired vampire beside him, filling him in on recent developments. “So apparently this Elijah asshole is one of the originals, and Klaus is the original, original.” “So, old then. And apparently hard to deal with.” “Right. Too hard,” Damon gestures with his drink, nearly sloshing amber liquid onto the bar top. “And Katherine says Klaus needs Elena because she’s from the ‘Petrova’ line?” “Because she’s The Petrova Döpleganger. Whatever the hell that means.” “Ok, there’s something I don’t get here though. Rose, I kind of understand giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’s done nothing to indicate duplicity here. But Katherine? Why should we believe anything she says?” “It jives with what Rose knows, and explains why she was so keen on getting to Elena in the first place.
In Shakespeare’s story “Macbeth” the symbol of blood is shown throughout the whole story. Blood symbolizes many things like violence, guilt, fate, and corruption. This paper will explain the connections between blood and the story. As the story progresses, the symbolism of blood starts to have a deeper meaning. In the story “Macbeth”, blood symbolizes the guilt between Macbeth and Lady Macbeth for all the murders and how the guilt progresses over time.
To explain the meaning behind the act of writing would take longer than I'd care to mention. In such a complex world, it is almost mandatory that we should be able to document it—in some way, shape, or form. To write is not one large act, one single motion, but instead many intricate movements towards a greater goal. Why do writers write? Well, why are we required to solve equations, or produce certain results in a lab? Since the dawn of time, the human race has utilized any and every form of interpersonal communication it could get its hands on. So, perhaps, writers write for that same purpose. Perhaps not. There are many great authors who have been deemed insane, whose ideas and style were never really widely accepted. Why choose to write
Take deep breaths, I told myself. Don't get upset. Try not to think about what has happened. Don't start getting angry. My focus had been intently on a puzzle I was doing since that morning, day fifteen of Light's confinement. L stared at the TV screen. Aizawa read the newspaper. And Matsuda ran in reminding us of why we were all distressed.
The hallways always seemed to have a chill around this place. The cold, crisp, and synthetic air the roamed through the interior of the Venator Class cruiser (fig. 1) felt better than naturally produced oxygen of a planet. Too hundreds of thousands of clone soldiers, Venator Class cruisers were home. After being in countless battles, the cruiser known as The Providence had become a well-known vessel amongst the outer rim territories. This cruiser was what CT-2532 called home. CT-2532 was just his rank number, he preferred to be called Jex.
Who am I? I am Number 17. I am a treasured daughter of the One True King, and a child of two precious parents. I am reserved; I often find myself being the most content when I am alone, studying, reading God’s Word, or thinking. I love to think and orchestrate my plans. I can find myself thinking so far into the future that my head will start to pound, resembling a heartbeat. When I feel like my brain is writhing, throwing itself against my skull, I then have to remind myself to release my immediate and far off future, to The Lord. I am the girl who constantly has to remind herself to rely on Jesus and His plans for my future. When I do this, the headaches melt away. My pulsing, discerning brain finds its home inside an olive skinned head with
A Wolf’s Cry Wolves are misunderstood. Beautiful and wild, never able to be tamed, and the epitome of freedom. They only want to be accepted and loved for what they are. Now, here I stood, at the International Wolf Center, located in Ely, MN.
Habits of the Creative Minds is a simple textbook with a particular twist. I began reading the book thinking it was going to be a basic textbook, but the author,Richard E. Miller and Ann Jurecic, changed the tone of the book and put it into a metaphor. This metaphor was about the reader in your writing, or for anyone reading should feel like Alice in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The reader should be reading, and figuratively fall into the reading, by this the authors means the reader should not want to put that book down. They should be engulfed in the book and read from cover to cover. The attention must be maintained and the best way to do this is by making the writing unique. The authors of this book puts
The harsh reality blowing in the snow By Luna Lopez-Andrews, age 12 I lie curled on the ground. The cold is creeping closer and closer. I know I have to keep moving but it is so cold that even the squirrel I killed is starting to freeze. I rise and pick up the icy squirrel in my jaws.
"Okay Autumn, stay calm, if I need to I will come get you." I say, slight panic in my voice