As I fell, my stomach lurched in a thrilling, heart pounding way. My brain was screaming, demanding that I grab onto something, anything to slow my fall. My body, however, knew exactly what to do.
The building Cain and I had taken refuge on wasn't terribly tall; only fifty feet or so. Enough to kill or break a few bones for somebody else. Instead I landed roughly on my feet, the impact sending a jolt up my spine, and making my teeth click together-though, thankfully, those pearly whites of mine missed my oh so beloved tongue.
Now that I was on the ground, I tugged the hood of my jacket over my head, hiding my face-the first rule Rook ever taught the Knights of the Red Cross was "don't let people recognize you." Breathing deeply, I stepped
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out into the crowd, forcing my way to the front. A few overzealous, blood hungry citizens blocked my way with their bodies, but I pushed them away, scowling. Up on the dais, the Red Hood knelt in front of the guillotine, flanked on either side by a guard. The third had walked to the center of the dais, gesturing for the crowd to fall silent. After a few moments of unhappy rumblings of "what's going on," "just kill him already," and the weirdly hilarious, "feed him to the pigs!" the crowd grew quiet. "As you know, each and every one of these criminals have betrayed the King.
Betrayed you." He paused briefly, allowing the importance of the statement to sink in. "But none have betrayed you as much as Jordan Heitor, former Guardian of Magnel. Yes, you heard right, my friends. The Red Hood have invaded us. They're waiting for their chance to destroy the kingdom."
Keep talking asshole.
"Because of this... deception, the King has ordered interrogations to every single member of the High Society, including those that work for them. If any of them are associated with Red Hood or The Knights of the Red Cross in any way, their punishment will be swift and severe."
As I walked, I ran through the names of those Rook had inserted into the High Society. Madam Lorraine, a well trusted and well liked psychic; Alastaire, a Guardian; and Dysis, a servant to the King himself. All of them-and probably more-put at risk because this idiot couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.
Rook was going to be pissed.
If Cain hadn't taken that moment to shoot the guard to the right of Jordan, I would have turned around and walked away. If Rook learned that he had compromised any of the other sleeper's positions, than it would be a better fate to die at the guillotine than in Rook's hands. He would make the Red Hood's life hell. Worse than hell. But I couldn't let Cain try his hand a being the
hero. When the guard fell, slumping onto the guillotine, Jordan rose to his feet and tackled the guard to his left. People surged backward, trying to get away. A few stumbled and fell, only to be tramped by their neighbors feet. Some would die, and the blame would be placed on Rook, just like every other tragedy in the city. I was running now, the crowd parting for me easily. I felt a hand underneath my sneaker, squishy and grabby. Fingers hooked on the hem of my pants, but I pulled away before they could bring me down-because death was selfish, and when you were dying, you didn't care if another joined you, all you wanted was to live. There was another shot, this time taking down the guard who had been talking only moments earlier. Cain had gotten better; more accurate. I launched myself up onto the dais, grabbing the last guard and pulling backward, removing him from Jordan's back. Together we slammed into the guillotine, its hard wood pressing into my skin. But it didn't last for too much longer before the guard was pushing my head down and reaching for the rope that would release the blade. Shocked at the speed of which the man had moved, I stare down into the pit built into the dais. A pit to catch the heads. Gritting my teeth, I rear backward, slamming the back of my head into the guard's nose. I felt it crunch under my skull, and I grinned in triumph. Whirling around, I slammed my fist into the man's stomach, making him double over. There was a pause in action as the man scrambled for the gun in his belt, but then Jordan knocked him to the ground, a feral look in his brown eyes. He reached for the guards shirt, twisted the front into his fist and held him there. "We fight, we die," he hissed, punching the guard. He brought his fist back and did it again. And again, and again, and again. He had his fist pulled back for another hit when the flash gun fired for the third time. The guard fell limp in Jordan's hands. "We have to go," I said. The crowd of people may have ran off, but they'd bring back Guardians. "Why did you help me?" Jordan asked, still holding the corpse. He watched it like he was expecting the man to breathe again, and I half expected it to reach out and wrap it's hands around Jordan's neck, squeezing to the Red Hood suffocated. That, of course, did not happen. "Questions later, running now." I bounced on the balls of my feet, already feeling a nervous energy start to bubble deep within me. The Guardians were coming. I peered up at the rooftop I'd dropped from, nodding when I couldn't see Cain. Jordan scrambled to his feet, looking as if he had just gone three rounds with a tornado and lost. "Who are you?" Deaf. He had to be deaf. Because what part of, "Questions later, running now," couldn't someone understand? It was there. Plain and simple, perhaps said in a slightly irritated tone-but who wouldn't be irritated?-but still clear. The jittery feeling in my gut whipped and whirled, demanding action. "Come on, we gotta go." Not caring whether or not he was following me-because while Cain had convinced me to help save the guy's ass, he hadn't convinced me to ensure its safety-I hopped off the dais and ran down one of the side streets. It was only when I turned a corner into an alley that I heard several footsteps following after me. Then Jordan went running past, legs carrying him faster than I'd seen since Tabitha-rest her poor little soul-got scared by the blast of a flash cannon. I picked up my pace as well, only taking a moment to glance over my shoulder. Four Guardians were trailing behind us, though by as much as I'd have liked. They were all wearing the standard uniform with normal guns at their sides and a sword strapped to their backs. One of them, a petite woman with a fierce glare, yelled for us to stop. Obviously we didn't stop.
" Well apparently the kingdoms are fighting, Lord Crailimor 's soldiers killed a family cause they couldn 't pay their taxes and Lord Crailimor 's praised them for it " she says as she looks at me. I can feel my face go red, I can hear my heart beating. My blood is boiling now.. If war is what he wants we will give it to him, we start by seeing Lord Williamson in the morning.
In paragraph 1, King outlines the possibility that might have caused the reaction from the clergyman. He begins by revealing to him that he came across his recent statement on his existence in Birmingham. He then gives a reason as to why he has...
Everyone’s childhood was filled with fairytales, and stories that will forever be programed into our minds even memory that continues from generation to generations. You’ll remember in school your first book were both the three little pigs and even Little Red Riding Hood. Yes, good old fairytales who knew when you was reading the most famous little red riding hood it was actually a lot history behind the tale. Just to allow a slight backstory about the tale we were taught of the story going like this little girl goes to bring her grandmother a basket of sweet on the way she encounters a wolf she tells him she on her way to her grandmother’s house from there the wolf bets the little to the grandmothers house eats the hopeless grandmother then
"One of the Cursed Generation. So, not all of them have been executed by now," a deeply-voiced traveler couldn't help but stare at the guards with a smug look on their faces. "Where has the kindness of the world gone? It's a shame he might not live a full life."
This shows how the King’s conscience is getting the better of him. He is becoming more and more paranoid as to what others know about what he has done.
watched the rims of a crevasse I was leaping, and at hust the right instant I flinched. Nothing
Lance Freeman tackles the issue of gentrification from the perspectives of residents in the gentrified neighborhood. He criticizes the literature for overlooking the experiences of the victims of gentrification. The author argues that people’s conceptions on the issue are somewhat misinformed in that most people consider it as completely deplorable, whereas in reality, it benefits the community by promoting businesses, different types of stores, and cleaner streets. These benefits are even acknowledged by many residents in the gentrified neighborhood. However, the author admits that gentrification indeed does harm. Although gentrification does not equate to displacement per se, it serves to benefit primarily homeowners and harm the poor. Additionally,
"And what do you want from me, you frightening monstrosity whom my innocent and sheltered eyes should never have been made to look upon?"
The legend of Robin Hood has survived in ballad, book, poem, play, and modern media. The story of Robin Hood has been of great interest among a select group of historians. It is highly debated whether he actually existed. Many historical texts of the time describe outlaws that closely match the description of Robin Hood. The legend of Robin Hood was originally based on a real person.
“I have other business to do now.” Charles explains. “I’ll see you later.” The King goes across the hall to check on the Queen. But before he had gone in the room, a feeling of impending doom strikes him. He looks out the window apprehensively. Nothing seems to be wrong. He goes back to his own business. Suddenly, he hears screams from outside the castle. “The kingdom is being attacked!” he exclaims. He runs down the stairs as fast as he can. “Julian, while I lead the army, I need you to keep guard on the room in which the queen is right now.” He commands. “We cannot lose the heir to the throne!” King Ch...
My sweat soaked shirt was clinging to my throbbing sunburn, and the salty droplets scalded my tender skin. “I need this water,” I reminded myself when my head started to fill with terrifying thoughts of me passing out on this ledge. I had never been so relieved to see this glistening, blissful water. As inviting as the water looked, the heat wasn't the only thing making my head spin anymore. Not only was the drop a horrifying thought, but I could see the rocks through the surface of the water and couldn't push aside the repeating notion of my body bouncing off them when I hit the bottom. I needed to make the decision to jump, and fast. Standing at the top of the cliff, it was as if I could reach out and poke the searing sun. Sweat dripped from my forehead, down my nose, and on its way to my dry, cracked lips which I licked to find a salty droplet. My shirt, soaked with perspiration, was now on the ground as I debated my
The two stories of course are similar and of course not the same. In the Grim tale, The story centers around Little Red Cap. In Roald Dahl’s version, the story is centered around the wolf. Both stories have the wolf eat the grandma, but Grimm had the wolf ask Little Red Cap where her grandma lived whereas in Roald Dahl’s version, it is implied that he already knew where she lived and knew that Little Red Riding Hood would come for a visit. Both stories had the wolf dressed as grandma to deceive Little Red Riding Hood(Cap) but Roald Dahl goes more in depth in describing what the wolf does to pull it off right. When Little Red Riding Hood(Cap) goes in to grandma’s house, they both have that whole dialogue:
I believe that Mr. Hoodhood motives are centered on himself. I think this because he does not typically make decisions about what is best for his son, but based on what is best for his company or his own wellbeing. For example, when Holling tells his father that he thinks Mrs. Baker hates his guts, he replies by saying that he needs to be good in her class so that his architectural firm has a better shot at being named the builders to build the new Baker Sports Emporium. Mr. Hoodhood says this unsympathetically and does not seem to care about what Holling thinks. What Mr. Hoodhood does think is that if Holling is behaved in Mrs. Baker’s class, he is more likely to win the opportunity to build the new Baker Sports Emporium, a company that is
A Comparison of Little Red Riding Hood by Charles Perrault and Little Red Cap by the Brothers Grimm
My stomach retched, my throat dry, had I got myself into this mess? A distant thud echoed across the cold, hard floor, ricocheting into my ear. Someone was coming.