Hearing Marak's reassuring words that her people would not be harmed the elf expelled her breath and smiled with relief, loosening her grip on the goblin's shirt. “Thank you...” she uttered softly.
Estelil's eyes then lowered to her hand as Marak place his upon it. She gazed back up at the goblin with a slight tilt of her head. Listening to his words, her eyes grew wide at the mention of elven history.
“Wait, you have our history here?!”, surprised that the goblins held such possessions yet Estelil was curious at what these elven historical artefacts were. The elf placed her hands together as a wide and casual smile appeared on her lips. “I'd dearly love to see them!” she added excitedly as she rubbed her hands together, unable to hide her eagerness to witness the items with her own eyes.
Estelil thought it would be
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Do you use magic often?”
Estelil glanced at Marak and became flustered at his question. She had not expected her action of kindness would have been followed up with questions, she had thought it would merely be appreciated and then forgotten about. In hindsight, however, she supposed it would look odd to appear so happy while performing magic when magic was commonplace.
“Not as much as I would like to” Estelil replied curtly as she stared at the book in her hands, attempting to keep thing vague. It was not quite a lie, but it was not quite the truth either, hoping that Marak wouldn't ask any further questions about her magical knowledge. It was embarrassing for an elite elf to only know a basic healing spell; Estelil was certain that elven children knew more spells than she did.
“If you have an interest in learning more, I would be more than happy to teach you”.
Estelil glanced up from her book at Marak, surprised by his kind offer. “I...that's...” pausing with hesitation as she lowered her head. She found herself interested in learning more about magic yet felt guilty for having told a little white
The ability to make the reader immersed in the story and the main character is the best thing to have when writing a piece. It helps the reader decide whether to keep reading or not. This ability is known as imagery. Imagery is writing with metaphors and the five sense, which creates a scene for the reader. Imagery is basically the way the author shows the reader what the main character or narrator is seeing. Janet Burroway, author of “Imaginative Writing”, which is a book about writing and the components of it, states that Image is, “An image is a word or series of words that evokes one or more of the five senses.” (Burroway, 15) Imagery is very important and good authors know how to use it to add more meaning and power to their literature.
“Pardon me?” Miss Allen asked, finally putting an end to the creepy ass moment of deadly silence. The perplexed expression on her face grew more confound with each passing second, but the gentleness in her eyes remained the same.
In The Princess and the Goblin, the author uses many literary devices to bring his writing to life and to illustrate specific moments in the story.
...t express the wealth of knowledge that I feel that I have learned from this class. There seems to be so much more to learn, so many places we never had the chance to go; so much so, that I have opted to take your class again next semester.
"You like it, eh?" Her father bestowed on her his secret smile. In truth it was more of a smirk. Right lip raised slightly to expose an endearing dimple beneath his moustache, his cupid's bow lips pursed so it looked like he was pouting. "I forget you are fierce, like she was."
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
“Will you calm down?” Maribelle chuckled lightly, brushing a few tears away from her red puffy eyes. Her stuttering words relaxed at Harry’s soft hum. Every time she would read to him, he would hum to her. His hum was enough to calm Maribelle from her
matriarch, a great person in her way, but to talk of her possessing many Elven-rings was
“You see everything that you have, it is all so beautiful,” said the witch. She took a break to breathe. “BUT NONE OF THIS SHOULD BE YOURS!”
Larah’s eyes glistened. “How can I ever repay you, for what you have done for me?”
She sat for a moment as he apologized for the umpteenth time before heading back to the field. Every once in a while, he would glance back and if wasn’t for the fact that she was in pain, she would’ve mentioned how bright and calming his smile was.; especially with the afternoon sun gleaming behind him.
I turn around, the unsettling feeling of something following dawns on me. A wave of mist rushes over to me and blurs my vision. Crows cackle into the dark night and I’m suddenly aware of how alone I am. I start running, the fear of a creature lurking in the forest is my worst enemy. Constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to see a monster staring into my soul. A light suddenly shines onto me and I am illuminated in the dark surroundings. Startled and confused I back away from the spotlight, thrown into complete darkness again. The light is being thrown around the forest, hungry for a living being. I crouch behind some bramble and hope the light disappears.
“It’s all right,” Pawl told her. “There are always risks that come with magical healing; it’s not ideal. But I thank you for
As I saunter onto the school field, I survey the premises to behold people in coats, shielding themselves from winter's blues. The sun isn't out yet, but the place bursting with life and exuberance, with people gliding across the ice covered floor almost cat-like. The field is effervescent and despite the dire conditions, the field seems to have taken on a life of its own. The weather is bad and the ice seems to burn the skin if touched, yet the mood is still euphoric. The bare shrubs and plants about the place look like they've been whipped by Winter himself. The air is frosty and at every breath the sight of steam seems to be present. A cold, cruel northerly wind blows across the playground and creates unrest amongst some. Crack! The crisp sound of leaves is heard, as if of ice splitting and hissing. Squirrels are seen trying to find a point of safety, scurrying about the bare trees that lie around the playground. Mystery and enigma clouds the playing field, providing a sense of anticipation about the place. Who is going to be the person to spoil the moment? To kill the conversation?
“Death?” Liesel interrupted my thoughts. Flustered, I responded, “My apologies, I was thinking of a response to your question.” She chuckled, and I was confused. “What’s so