'The Journeying' | Chapter 1 | ------------------------------------------ It was early, the sun was just beginning to peak over the mountains that lined the distant horizon. The breeze carried with it the scents of dew and the variety of wildflowers that grew along the lake shore. Flocks of birds flew over head, their cries piercing the silence of morning.
A major theme that is seen during the Gulliver’s final adventure is the reversal of roles. For the first time in the novel, Gulliver’s crew forms a mutiny and throws him overboard. On this island, we are introduced to Houyhnhnms and Yahoos. Gulliver first meets the Yahoos; a group of humans that act like farm animals and have the brain equivalent of a horse. Meanwhile, the Houyhnhnms are an intelligent race of horses that have their own language and use the Yahoos as cattle. When reality is presented with a different face it allows the reader to make less biased opinions based on previous beliefs. Most people are completely fine with how people treat cattle as a source of food, but when we see the
On the bank of the water, the lifeless trees swayed heavily in the enduring winds. Clouds could be seen not far off in the north, reclaiming the sky rapidly. The mood was changing swiftly as dusk descended dashingly on the hills of the Gabilan Mountains.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I sat down on a green park bench. The sun began to come up, just barely visible beneath a layer of soft gray clouds. A duck slid off the bank to join his raft in the cool water, causing ripples to break through the smooth surface of Lake Wingra. Colorful leaves danced through gusts of morning air, which gently rustled the boughs of a tree to my right. The leaves softly rustled, accompanying the symphony of bird calls and crickets echoing across the lake. Occasionally a shiny black crow broke the cool silence with his ugly call, and twice a grand heron made his exalted, almost dinosaur-like screech as he soared across the morning sky. His gigantic wings flapped audibly through the clear air, seeming to create
All hero stories have similar experiences in their life journey. Every hero undergo growth, development, and transformation through a journey of self-discovery. According to Seger (2013), “Many of the most successful films are based on these universal stories” (para. 2). Some of these stories could be either a search, a hero, or a healing story about a specific character. In the film “Dinosaur” (2000), a young broken iguanodon named Aladar goes on an similarly astonishing journey like in the hero’s journey to become a hero to his family of lemurs and a herd of dinosaurs because of his desire to do special and great acts, pass tests and obstacles, and journey to a special world.
He awoke to the sun peeping over the horizon and through the dusty wooden blinds. The sudden brightness startled him. He took a breath, lifted his head, and gently observed the mystifying beauty of the landscape. But he lowered his head. Once again, he remembered.
Over the course of history the definition of what makes a hero has made many changes. Beowulf, Superman, and firefighters are all examples of heroes, but they are very different when broken down. Today’s society defines a hero by his values, his strength, and his journey.
Regis, a youth studying magic at an academy, passing the entrance exam was already a miracle but it only kept getting harder from there. Born with the only blessing of hard work he studied diligently only to eventually be driven out.
It was a gloomy night, the moon and stars seemed to be hiding away, lurking behind the thick mist that was carried through the marshes, and who could blame them on a night like this. The bitter wind was swiftly blowing, creating tiny water ripples throughout the mire. The air was fresh and clean this night, and all was as silent as could be.
High up in the heather where nobody was and no noise was but birdsong and nothing moved but the breeze, something began.
Heart of story: always do something you don’t want to do, you might like it later on.
The sun had already begun its ascent into the sky by the time they found a clear spot to set up camp. Nights in Cal'rota were blessedly low in temperature; none of them were ready to welcome back the daytime and her scalding embrace, but if they stuck around too long they risked discovery by shadowets.
The chilly air and squishy bugs hit my face as I drove through the prairie. My four wheeler sputtered as I topped it out back in the country. Loud distracting barking of dogs as I zoomed by made it feel exhilarating because I imagined them as cheetahs chasing me like I was a zebra. The beautiful sunset shined on the beans and corn and was nearly blinding ,and the sand fought with my tires taking me side to side on the road. As I drove past a shiny chicken barn shimmering in the sun I saw a flock of eagles on a ripe manure pile looking over the fields for mice. The tall trees were swaying back and forth from the strong wind. Some clouds appeared aflame because the bright orange sunset contrasted with the dense purplish blue clouds giving
Once Upon a time in a land of darkness and desperation, a young maiden journeyed into the most burly thickets and through the most isolated forests in aspiration of finding a spirit who could do her deed. She was losing her health fast, and her hope faster. As she plunged ever deeper into the murky trees, she fantasized about what her life could have been-and maybe still could be.
Clink. Clink. Clink. The ride goes up slowly. Higher and higher, up and up and up, but we aren’t there yet. I was very fortunate to be able to go to Camp Gracanica (a serbian camp) in the summer for a week. My best friend Katarina encouraged me to go. I have been enjoying my time there and made many friends. I stayed in one tiny, cramped room with twelve girls with so many colorful bunk beds. We went to church morning and night for a week. One day, after church, we talked about Great America. We were able to pick partners and I chose Katarina. I was so excited to go with someone I am very close with. The next day we got up at six o’clock in the morning, with the pleasant sound of a cow bell in my ear. I slept on the bottom bunk with a cool
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.