The Collision The wind whispered secrets through the rippled dunes, carrying the acrid tang of ozone and the faint echo of collapsing realities. Starlight, fractured by the colliding timelines, cast an eerie glow across the Asepian camp, where makeshift shelters huddled similar to weary travelers in a storm. Inside, a lone figure knelt by the flickering embers of a campfire, sharpening a blade that gleamed with an almost unnatural sheen. The air crackled like a thousand dying stars, and the scent of the burning metal one was acrid on the Asepians' tongues. Reality itself seemed to bleed at the seams, with landscapes shimmering and dissolving, resembling mirages in the desert heat. Then, from the churning vortex at the camp's edge, a shadowy …show more content…
Their target, a lone Asepian woman by the fire, froze, her face a mask of pure horror. Before the spectral blade could cleave through her, a figure surged forward: Simon, the stoic warrior, his roar a ragged gasp against the storm. His blade met the cursed metal in a shower of sparks, but the impact sent a jolt through his arm, the force of the blow threatening to overwhelm him. Behind him, the camp held its breath. The holographic screens atop the sundial, usually pulsing with the rhythms of the merging timelines, flickered to life, revealing a chilling scene: the Crannion army, a dark tide of obsidian troopers, marching towards them across the fractured sands. Simon gritted his teeth, his gaze flickering between the spectral warriors and the approaching doom. Doubt, a cold serpent, slithered within his mind. Could they hold the sand? Is their fragile unity strong enough to withstand this tempest of darkness? In the silence, a single word echoed from his lips, more a desperate prayer than a battle cry: …show more content…
Fear gave way to a grim resolve. Warriors, their faces hardened with this noble purpose, hefted their weapons. The Asepians, abused but undefeated, stood on the crag of a collision, ready to face the storm with the combined strength of their forged reality. The silence after Lampar's roar hung heavy in the air, pregnant with the thrumming tension of impending conflict. But before panic could take root, Elder Brighton stepped forward, his weathered face etched with resolute wisdom. Elder Brighton's voice, amplified by the sundial, rang across the sand, a beacon in the gale of horror. "We are Asepians," he boomed, his eyes blazing with defiance. "Forged from timelines shattered and reforged! We stand united, a testament to the influence of hope and resilience. But power alone is not enough. We must be smart, weave illusions as intricate as the realities we mend." "Strength alone," he boomed, his yell amplified by the sundial, "is but a hammer without a nail." We need to be strong, yes, but we must also be cunning. Power without smartness is weakness, a blade dulled on
"The monstropolous beast had left his bed. The two hundred miles an hour wind had loosed his chains. He seized hold of his dikes and ran forward until he met the quarters; uprooted them like grass and rushed on after his supposed-to-be conquerors, rolling the dikes, rolling the houses, rolling the people in the houses along with other timbers. The sea was walking the earth with a heavy heel.
Before entering the battle, Theoden becomes preoccupied with the rays of sunlight breaking through Sauron’s clouds. Gazing at this particular view initiated Theoden to strike hope into his soldiers as he claimed, “A sword day...a red day...ere the sun rises!”, Within that statement, parallelism is utilized to enhance his powerful tone as he proclaims the significance of this battle and how this day was especially important in ensuring the safety of the human race against Sauron and his army. This vigorous tone is also demonstrated through the development of alliteration, especially when Theoden states, “Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered!” Theoden’s dynamic tone is amplified within this particular statement as it exemplifies how his soldiers will inflict damage to the enemy while they battle. The phrase in itself works to initiate motivation and dignity within the soldiers, thus allowing them to defend the last hope for human life. The dynamic tone, supported by parallelism and alliteration, was thoroughly instilled within this brief speech in order to invigorate optimism towards the
The day started with clear blue skies and not a cloud in the sight. The only noise that you could hear was a concert given by the nearby crickets, and a lonely bull frog singing nearby in unison. As the evening passes on a sharp snoring noise can be heard muffled softly.
[A]nd as we struck into town and up through the middle of it--it was as much as half-after eight, then--here comes a raging rush of people, with torches, and an awful whooping and yelling, and banging tin pans and blowing horns; and we jumped to one side to let them go by; and as they went by, I see they had the king and the dike astraddle of a rail--that is I knowed it was the king and the duke, thought was all over tar and Feathers, and didn’t look like nothing in the world that was human--just looking like a couple of monstrous big soldier-plumes. Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry for them poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn’t never feel any hardness against them any more in the world. It was a dreadful thing to see. Human beings can be awful cruel to one another.
I could hear the car engines roaring to life, horns honk above me. Tiny footsteps echo throughout the tunnel as I leant up against a brick wall. The tunnel seemed to carry on forever like there was no ending. Yellow dimmed lights lead through the path of the tunnel. I tried to control my breathing which got heavier by the second.
The silence was deafening… with each step, the lump in my throat was expanding, almost ridding me of all oxygen. My heart was pounding erratically and my hand, firmly gripping Scout’s costume was now soaked in perspiration. Amidst the overcast night, a dark shadow consumed Maycomb. The thick air was a blanket of humidity that offered not security, but the assurance of a storm. The pageant was but a distant memory by this point. We had only left a few minutes earlier but my thoughts were congested by an uneasy presence. The warm wind whispered through the rustling leaves. They seemed to dance about my feet, which wouldn’t have been so bad, had the night not been pitch black and unnerving. Instead, it felt as though I could tumble at any moment. I was immensely regretting my decision to reject a ride home when Scout burst,
With only the moon and stars to guide her, she picked her way down to the trucks, where a few embers of the fire remained. She could hear something that sounded like wind On the ground were unidentifiable lumps that seemed to be moving in the nonexistent breeze. On the front of one of the looming vehicles was a blood stain. Emmaline crept toward it. On her way there she accidentally stepped on one of the lumps and heard a man-like squawk. She looked down and saw two eyes glistening in the moonlight and an open mouth still. She slowly turned around in a circle. The lumps that Emmaline had assumed to be tree stumps earlier were now rising from the ground and shouting. Fear was welling up inside Emmaline but she told herself to stay brave for Edgar’s sake and she let out a deafening battle cry and charged at the nearest man. He ran towards the blood-stained truck and jumped up into the cab, Emmaline close behind. The soldier shut the door in Emmaline’s face and she turned around. The other men were all packing up as fast as they could. Emmaline stayed until every truck had left, watching silently with an evil glare. Then she raced back up the hill to join her Father and
This relates to Of the Horrors of War as Duggan mentions the “mistrust and enmity for centuries to last…[,] where mistrust and hatred is rife” and how disbelief is seen throughout all warfare (Duggan). Both of these works portrays how suspicion and uncertainty is an abundance when it comes to warfare. Another connection between these two pieces of literature is the pursuit of revenge for those who have wronged. Remarque describes how the soldiers “seized the bed-cover, made a quick leap [towards Himmelstoss], threw it over his head from behind and pulled it round him so that he stood there in a white sack unable to raise his arms” and impotent to move (Remarque 48). Himmelstoss, the leader of the band of brothers, has been cruel to the boys and, even though these men are all aiming towards the same goal, revenge will always still be present. Draftees are “those who for their sense of revenge extreme violence pursue” and aim to seek vengeance and violators (Duggan). Although all fighters desire for the same objective, the idea of revenge will always be present due to the mindset of being seen as the
‘With one hand I felt above my head for the line of the steam whistle, and jerked out screech after screech hurriedly. The tumult of angry and warlike yells was checked instantly, and then from the depths of the woods went out such a tremulous and prolonged wail of mournful fear and utter despair as may be imagined to follow the flight of the last hope from the earth. There was a great commotion in the bush; the shower of arrows stopped, a few dropping shots rang out sharply—then silence, in which the languid beat of the stern-wheel came plainly to my ears’ (Conrad, 82).
The door gave away, so toughened with iron, at the touch of those hands. Rage-inflamed, wreckage-bent, he ripped open the jaws of the hall. Hastening on, the foe then stepped onto the unstained floor, angrily advanced: out of his eyes stood an unlovely light like that of fire. He saw then in the hall a host of young soldiers, a company of kinsmen caught away in sleep, a whole warrior-band.
The night was tempestuous and my emotions were subtle, like the flame upon a torch. They blew out at the same time that my sense of tranquility dispersed, as if the winds had simply come and gone. The shrill scream of a young girl ricocheted off the walls and for a few brief seconds, it was the only sound that I could hear. It was then that the waves of turmoil commenced to crash upon me. It seemed as though every last one of my senses were succumbed to disperse from my reach completely. As everything blurred, I could just barely make out the slam of a door from somewhere alongside me and soon, the only thing that was left in its place was an ominous silence.
The inner garden courtyard would be deserted at this time of day and no one would think to look for him there. He had spent a good deal of time over the last fifty years there, relaxing and rethinking the events of his day. Rarely was he interrupted and that is why he liked the place so well. The garden courtyard was large for an inner courtyard and flowers bloomed all along its paths. Gardens filled with plump tomatoes, carrots and green vegetables were found near the entrance and were harvested daily by the cooks of the manor. He secretly made his way to the courtyard and sat down on the stone bench near the narrow path in the middle of the yard. Mangus closed his eyes and began to relax, when a strange feeling began to overtake him. He opened his eyes and from the bench, he could see the large stone statute at the northern side of the garden, peeking through the tall grass. When he first started coming to the garden many years ago, he had noticed it but he had totally forgotten it until just now. Mangus got up and walked over to it. Carved into its base was a passage that he read out loud. “The World is in Chaos, only Order can set us Free.” Suddenly, he heard the sound of stone sliding on stone. He stepped away from the statue. The statute slowly moved revealing an entrance leading down underneath the its base. Mangus peered down into the entrance but it was too dark to see anything. With a flick of his hand, he produced a flame in his palm that lit his way as he descended the stone steps. After only a few steps, magical torches flit on emitting a bright blue flame that illuminating the rest of the way. He closed his hand and extinguished his flame and continued down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairway was a rectangular chamber with a statue of a large eagle was at its center. In each of his talons were a single orb
The beginning of an inevitable nightmare begins as ammunition and warriors pepper the horizon Their dark silhouettes emerging and growing closer by the minute as they march with their backs against the sun Enemies and allies who may or may not be unknown to each other Foes and brothers, driven apart by their beliefs Invigorated by hatred yet compelled by love Side by side no more As the blinding sun sun sets a wave of darkness falls over the plains Reality sinks in as the first shots ring clear through the air, penetrating the obscurity Enmity and animosity stenches the air While flaming denotation blinds thy eye till one can see no more
There was what appeared to be a scramble and a rush rather than any regulated movement. The hill side was alive with clatter and motion; with sudden up-springing lights among the pines. In the east the dawn was unfolding out of the darkness. Its glimmer was yet dim in the plain below." which tells me they were attacked. As i continued reading, there was a priest and a negro passing by who saw a boy lying down.
I stood on the ground and it crumbled away as if it wasn't there. My reality, my dreams gone. A lone rose in the snow, a frozen cage. I pray and pray but the snow never goes away. Secluded in a blizzard without mittens, the only warmth is from ashed cigarettes the ice age only exists in my head, it's summer time outside, lies so cold i become numb to the ice.