It was a picturesque evening. The sun was just beginning to set, painting vibrant hues of orange and red across the fading blue sky. A light breeze toyed with the lofty branches of nearby trees, casting shadows onto the colorful but fading colors of the grass sashaying in the wind. Kirkwall was now just a distant memory; shrouded in grey far in the distance, as was the events that had taken place there. As I thumbed a pale blue wildflower, light footsteps approached from behind me, and I knew who it was before I even heard his voice. "Anders," I whispered softly.
"I want to avoid Starkhaven, if we can, Arya," the mage attempted to induce. He lowered his frail form just to my left, his amber eyes lowered so as to avoid contact with my own blue ones. I could sense his dread while speaking of the city, and I should've felt it just as well. I had saved Anders, after he had destroyed Kirkwall's chantry and Elthina with it. My mercy had infuriated Sebastian, and in turn, he vowed to reclaim Starkhaven and raze the city of chains to the ground, taking Anders and I with it. I should have shared Ander's dread, only, I couldn't. Despite my strained relationship towards to prince, I felt a queer sort of kinship with him. We had both lost our families, though under different circumstances, and despite my apparent outward hatred for him, I always had a soft spot on the inside for the man. Anders would never understand, and so I danced around the subject whenever it was brought up.
"You need to eat more. Look at yourself, you're getting so scrawny," I chided the apostate.
"And you're avoiding my conversation."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Of course you don't. You're absolutely besotted with that blasted Prince, aren't you!? Ever sinc...
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...ed but who cares? You were going to do it anyways," Izzy pleaded. I was still pissed off at her for bring up my regrets, but the pirate had a point-and a ship-, and she was usually never this eager to help. And who was I to turn down an ally? And a neutral one, at that? I bit back my anger and looked Isabella square in the eyes, my stare pinning hers. "We leave tomorrow, then?" I asked.
Isabella let out an obnoxious squeal and molested me in another one of her groping 'hugs', before running off to her room without a word. I swiveled on my heels to follow her and trailed up the stairs to say good-night to Anders before disappearing into her room. It's a shame I didn't notice the hooded figure who had listened on to my and Isabela's entire conversation, the golden clasp of his robe glinting maliciously in the dim lighting, revealing the crest of Starkhaven's royalty.
Have you ever thought about what it would be like not to be free? What would it be like not to be able to make choices? What would it be like not to be able to do what you want? It's scary to think about not being free, but even in the world today some people don't even have basic human freedoms. Lois Lowry shows us in her books The Giver and Gathering Blue what it would be like not to have freedom and how important it is that we have it.
He just turned and left without a word. I touched Lennie’s grave. The rough touch of the wood deflecting to my fingers. I walked back to the ranch. Everyone was asleep. I wanted to run away tomorrow but I couldn’t let this chance pass up. It also prevented any chance of Candy following me. I tiptoed out of the room and went straight to the woods. I made sure to mix myself in with the shadows of the trees. I saw the river and It felt like I did it...until I felt something grab me by my neck. I quickly got flipped over and pushed to the ground.
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
Blues music originated in the cotton fields of the southern United States where the majority of the slave hands were put to work. “The earliest folk-blues were sung by nameless African-Americans living and working in the South’s cotton belt in the early 1880’s and 1890’s- in particular, the region from the Mississippi Delta to East Texas”(Barlow 3). It was believed that this began as a call and response style, which matured into the work song. From that standpoint, after the release of the slaves, the work song then matured into their Spirituals, and later was introduced to the whites through black-faced Minstrel of Medicine shows (How the Blues Overview). As the music matured and became more renowned, its influence became prominent in the music styles of the time, and in the intertwining relationships between the races. “The music was a unique and cultural offering that whites could not deny. It was something new and intriguing to whites that shed a new light on blacks and their place in American culture and society”(Overview). The music did not seem to have the same color restrictions as the music previously performed. It drew blacks and whites together in a place where everyone could leave the Jim Crow laws at the door (Overview). This offered a new and beneficial lifestyle for the blacks as well as the whites. Maybe the interest was that the white people had found a new talent to exploit and from which to make easy money, or perhaps, maybe it was because the whites genuinely understood the cultural significance in the music and respected this talent of the black race enough to overcome racial and cultural differences.
Color is sensed when white light bounces off an object and is reflected into the eye. Objects appear different colors depending on what colors were absorbed and which were reflected. Color is "seen" by the rods and cones in the eye. Cones detect color and rods detect black, white, and shades of gray. People who cannot see colors properly are colorblind. There are many different kinds of colors and they are classified in many different ways (The World Book Encyclopedia p 818, 819).
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.
prince, urging him to have nothing to do with "old father antic the law? Do not
In light of our class discussion about the light skin, dark skin dichotomy I decided to write about my perspective on the issue. Growing up I quickly found out the color of my skin impacted my life in a foremost way. In my childhood years I traveled a lot, but I spent the majority of my life in Jacksonville, Florida. Jacksonville is mildly diverse, especially in the area where my family and I lived. Moreover, the school I attended was predominantly white. With that being said, I was immersed into a setting where I could not culturally or ethnically relate to anymore. Furthermore, I found myself struggling with my identity. In school my peers and classmates would ask: “are you white?” Of course inside I knew who I was— I knew I was black; however, I began to lose sight of my ethnic background and ethnic identity. Furthermore, I found that it was harder for me to connect with people of my own race and ethnicity. Most of my friends where white; yet, I noticed that I was always stigmatized as the odd ball out with my “friends” and it was almost as if I was not good enough to be their f...
"You defy me. You disobay me in public, in front of the royal staff. I am your Prince, Sophia. And you are my Princess." he gave her right cheek a swat.
“We’re lost aren’t we?” I heard stammered from behind me. “No, we’re not we’re exploring”, came the hesitant retort,” come on let's see what up a head”. As two small figures raced past me I sighed in defeat scrambling to catch up. Truth was my siblings and I were lost in the woods, had been in fact for a good while now and still, regardless of the distance we walked the forest's edge never appeared closer.. It hadn’t been frightening at first, we came up here often and today had been lovely for walking. But now the sun whose rays shone through the forest canopy cast a cold light, giving the trees a stark, bleached visage. How strange that one wrong turn could turn the woods familiarity on its head. This is transformation at work.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
... as my hike the day before had. The secluded intimacy of the forest stunned my sense and made me feel as if I were apart of a land no man had before seen. As I passed the guardians of the forest, those gnarled, knotted, crooked trees overlooking the balds, I bid them farewell and a thank you also, for protecting the secluded interior forest from the harsh winds of the balds.
In a famous TV show which is broadcasted in Korea, for some people questions were thrown by one particular scene. A man was walking with pink shopping bags then his male friend sarcastically mocked him with it saying do not being a girl. Some might see this scene with no problem but some may ask themselves why a man should be ridiculed for bringing pink bags? According to several studies conducted by corporations and sociologists, clearly the notion of blue color for boys and red color for girls exists. Although women and men like blue-type colors (blue, green, purple and etc), most women are more preferences to red-type colors (red, pink, yellow and etc). Some neuroscientists argue that this norm of gender colors is because of biological differences between sexes. Back in prehistoric days, people wanted clear skies for good weather. Therefore they started to have a tendency of preferring blue colors and that tendency had been passed through generations. For explaining why women like red-type colors, neuroscientists claim that women worked as 'gatherer' in ancient times so that they had to be sensitive to red which is the color of ripe fruits. Though this evolutionary explanation seems plausible, it misses the major parts for explaining the norm of gender colors, socialization. As one individual grows in a society, he or she are constantly socialized in many ways. The norm of gender differences in color preferences socially affects individuals through three of their life time stages of infancy, adolescence, and adult.
With a slow dawn I remembered. Had I slipped or had he hit me with something? My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as I relived the figure advancing towards me. It was dark. The street light that shone from behind the man in the faceless thickset man in the grey hoody ensured anonymity. Now he was coming. How long had I been here? My head ached as I struggled to assess my surroundings.
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.