It was all too much. Every single bit of it. With each second that passed, Cassandra decided that it had been a horrible mistake to use the transportation device. All that time before her first jump she'd been so very eager, filled with so much longing and happy anticipation at what she'd discover. How naïve she'd been. How naïve they'd all been. Ever since that fateful day, her life had tumbled into chaos. And the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she even had a life to go back to. As it was, she'd already gone back in time, to one of the greatest civilizations in human history and...
Tears welled in Cassandra's eyes as she lied there in her bed, rough blankets pulled up around her slight body. Oh, she couldn't sleep, couldn't rest. There was no way. She'd tampered with time, disrupted history. Her blood chilled knowing that life as she'd known it was forever changed—big or small—it wouldn't be the same. How could it ever? Now that she was hunted, their prey?
Cassandra groaned against her pillow, sleep continuing to evade her. Ironic that a part of her was desperately grateful that her body refused slumber. With sleep came dreams, with dreams...came him. A shiver ran along her spine and she recalled the dream she'd had in the bath house, the way he'd gently nudged her mind, her body. The worst part of it all,
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however, was that it had all felt good. And what did that make her? Some sick puppet meant to be tugged and manipulated? The very idea made her want to vomit. Just then, she felt the bile rise and she reached for the basin by her bedside. Immediately, Maddox raced to be by Cassandra's side. "Shh..." the blonde whispered as she gently caressed her back. "Best to just get it out. It's part of the sickness." She paused. "That'll pass soon enough though." Cassandra winced as she pushed her dark hair away from her face, dark circles having formed beneath her eyes. Despite how tired and worn she looked, there was still a radiance about her, a glow. "I'll let Angelica know what happened and that you're all right," Maddox stated as she cleaned things up and then brought Cassandra a cup of water. "Thanks," Cassandra said, her voice soft. She looked at the woman as she made adjustments to some of the gadgets monitoring her body's vitals. She could only hope that nothing else was wrong...save the pregnancy. Ugh! What was she thinking! It wasn't fair to think that...it wasn't. It wasn't her fault or the baby's that this situation happened. But...but what now? The fear that coursed through her was more than she'd ever felt before in her life. For as long as she could remember, she'd dreamed of finding the perfect man, one who adored her, protected, would do anything for her...that they'd find each other against all odds and start a family together. But instead, this was the hand she'd been dealt. Steeling her jaw, she clenched her hands into tiny fists. No. No, she wouldn't feel down about this. She couldn't. Licking her lips, she let her hands relax and slowly, hesitantly brought one of them to rest upon her belly. She closed her eyes, which stung from tears that refused to fall, and wondered about the life she'd be giving her child. "Get some rest," Maddox stated plainly. "Angelica and I will be around. Our leader will see to you tomorrow, which...." her voice trailed. "Is in just a few hours now. You want to be rested when you meet him." She smiled and then moved to bring Cassandra another cup of water. "And you'll get your code and chip tomorrow too." Cassandra just nodded, a dull throb forming in her head. A tiny groan rolled over her lips as she settled back into the bed. Maddox eyed her, noting her pain. Her smirk cut deep as she made her way back over to her bedside. "I wish you'd stop doing that," Cassandra hissed, pulling the blanket over her head. "I don't think so," Maddox chided, yanking the blanket down.
Oh, that smirk! What Cassandra wouldn't give for the enigmatic Angelica instead! Just then, Maddox stood up straight, her head twisting from side to side as if she were searching for something. She then darted over to one of the benchtops and grabbed a tiny device and began mumbling into it. Tossing the thing back, she stared hard into Cassandra's eyes. "Don't move," she demanded. Cassandra just nodded, she wouldn't dare. Reaching around to her back, the blonde pulled out a knife and twisted it around in her hand and then went for a gun that had been hidden under her
coat. Cassandra's eyes widened. Just what the hell was going on? What had Maddox so on edge? Her hands gripped the bed rails and she sat up a little, her head hurting causing her to grunt from the pain. "I said don't move," Maddox scolded. "I fucking meant it!"
In this fast-paced novel, Cass Shipton and her circle of friends are called in to find a local family that has mysteriously gone missing. Desperate to find the missing family, they find the trail points to a vicious killer with a violent past. Between Cassandra’s circle of devoted friends, her booming herbalist venture and the wants of Scruffy her eccentric mutt, she finds her hands quite full. Things become worse when she has to take in a troublesome teenager. Winifred “Freddie” McGinty comes into Cassandras life bringing along a whole lot of chaos to complicate her
In the short story "Leaving the Iron Lung" Carter, Anne Laurel Carter emphasizes contrasting characters to demonstrate that dreams and safety have their own limits. First, Agathe represents Pauline’s safety
As the protagonist, Taylor leads a life far from the ordinary, and gains matures and gains worldly knowledge through a journey most couldn't dream of. Deciding to leave her home in Pittman County, Kentucky she was the one to get away, both in mind and body. The culture of where she grew up didn't fit her personality, and she decided she wouldn't let herself fall into the life of the other people in her town. She bought a car and hit the road, with no plan or destination to adhere to. This journey shows the type of personality she possesses, and throughout the journey how it advances. Taylor was already quite an admirable person, and she already possessed many good traits. She was already independent and knew there was more to see in the world than what there was in Pittman County. She knew that there was room for improvement and infinite things to learn in the world, she just didn't know what they were. Sadly, most of what she lea...
Imagery returns once more, allowing the reader to sense the nerves that were beginning to affect the narrator; preparing them for a suspenseful turning point. The turning point that follows had been the revelation of the narrator’s thoughts about stealing the book- which may have been why she must’ve lost her doubts prior. The narrator could not bring herself to steal the book, but was not ready to forget her special moment; looking to the book for an
On that night, Dewey Dell’s got a weird dream. “I rose and took the knife from the streaming fish still hissing and I killed Darl. She remembers a dream where she killed him. But it was only a dream. ” When I used to sleep with Vardaman I had a nightmare one I thought I was awake but I couldn’t see and couldn’t feel the bed under me and I couldn’t think what I was I couldn’t think of my name I couldn’t even think I am a girl …
Gods. After it was taken over by humans, it was a proud and happy city
Her pale, bloated face wore an expression of imbecile happiness. Every now and then her eyelids closed, and for a few seconds she seemed to be dozing. Then with a little start she would wake up again杦ake up to the aquarium antics of the Tennis Champions, to the Super-Vox-Wurlitzeriana rendering of "Hug me till you drug me, honey," to the warm draught of verbena that came blowing through the ventilator above her head-would wake to these things, or rather to a dream of which these things, transformed and embellished by the soma in her blood, were the marvellous constituents, and smile once more her broken and discoloured smile of infantile contentment.
The encroaching of cold, hard reality upon peaceful dreams is the cause of anguish for many people. Again and again, throughout history, there is ...
Oprah Winfrey once said, “The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don't know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.” But, what actually is a dream and what do dreams really have to do with one’s everyday life? In essence, a dream is a series of mental images and emotions occurring during slumber. Dreams can also deal with one’s personal aspirations, goals, ambitions, and even one’s emotions, such as love and hardship. However, dreams can also give rise to uneasy and terrible emotions; these dreams are essentially known as nightmares. In today’s society, the concept of dreaming and dreams, in general, has been featured in a variety of different mediums, such as literature, film and even music. While the mediums of film and music are both prime examples of this concept, the medium of literature, on the other hand, contains a much more diverse set of examples pertaining to dreams and dreaming. One key example is William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. While the portrayal of dreams, in general, plays a prominent role in Shakespeare’s play, the exploration of many aspects of nature, allows readers to believe that dreams are merely connected to somewhat unconventional occurrences.
& #65279;Cassandra as a Tragic Figure Cassandra is a tragic figure in Agamemnon. She is destroyed by a web of circumstances beyond her control, but not beyond her awareness. Cassandra has full knowledge of what is going to happen, yet she cannot change the tragic events. Cassandra’s tragic role is Agamemnon is best filled in three instances: as Cassandra is getting out of the chariot, during her dialogue with the leader of the chorus when she reveals her prophecy, and as she is approaching the doors to face her death.
Dreams have long been the basis for extensive analysis, their meanings interpreted and reinterpreted. Some people believe that dreams reflect our repressed emotions, providing a necessary outlet for the negative aspects of our reality. Others find answers through dreams, believing that dreams provide simple solutions to seemingly complex issues in our lives. Louise Bogan, in her poem "The Dream," describes a dream that expresses both repression and solution. It is a poem about fear, and Bogan's message--the message of the dream, in fact--is that fear can be tamed through trust.
...dreams – not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion.”
Cassandra is one of those characteristically Aeschylean women who are touched with a divine force that expresses itself in a visual and visionary imagination.
...y grandma’s bed was in the center and my bed was next to her. My grandma sets the mood for the story. She starts to tell a story and we all listen to her with adding our expressions to it. She puts her gentle hand on my forehead and massages my forehead. Grandma’s stories went on along with the night, but I was never able to know the end of the story because the serene surroundings along with grandma’s tranquil massage takes a moment for me to fall asleep.