I tried to slow my heart rate. Time seemed to stop as a horrendous creak burst from the boards beneath me. I could no longer hear the men's chatter from inside the house. I know they're on to me, I surely thought. I heard footsteps inside the cabin coming toward the wall I was leaning against. I had no time to think. I jumped from the deck that had so brutally betrayed my location only seconds ago. I ran into the abyss of a forest that lay beyond the fence of the cabin. I dodged the trees and rocks that laced the ground in my attempt to scurry to the safety of the trees. They won't find me here, I told myself over and over again with only the slightest trace of confidence. I jumped behind a fallen log about one-hundred yards from the cabin. …show more content…
Something is going to happen, my thoughts echoed and jumbled through my mind. I got up to face the window that looked upon the neighbor's garden. He was a fine old man with a crinkled nose and a short merry stature. He was the kindest gentleman one would ever meet. But, as we all do, the old man had his differences. Beneath all the layers of wrinkles and large dark eyebrows, he had a glass eye. It had never bothered me to the least, but the old man's tenant has complained for hours on end about that glass eye. He always came up with the most eerie details about it. I for one though, have never seen the eye quite like the tenant does. He has always frightened me, that tenant. The old man has had many different tenants over the years, but none utterly like the latter. His name is Warren Clyde, a crude young man, only but twenty five of age, but his face hints toward a much older maturity. His eyes are black with the most delicate fog over them. He is lanky and slim, and his face forever solemn. I shall never understand the reason why such a kind old man could house a tenant as ghostly as Warren.
As I gazed out the window into the dark night, I could only observe what the moon favored to shed light upon, which just so happened to be the old man's cabin. The night was dreadfully warm for an October night and not a single noise could be heard over the howling winds and rain that dashed
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There was a flash of lightning and immediately after a bloodcurdling howl from the old man's cabin. I lunged back to my chair in front of the fire. The sound lingered in my ears for a unfavorable amount of time, and it echoed awfully in the warm night air. Although, a moment later, everything stopped. The night was again quiet and dark, except for the buzz of the rain. I immediately bustled toward my children's rooms, only to find them fast asleep. I consequently ran to my husband, who was lucky enough to have the same pleasure. I awoke him in a panic, but he told me I was dreaming and that I needed to go back to bed. Nevertheless, I raced out to the barn and galloped my horse toward town. It was a half an hour's ride during the ungodly course of the morning, but it was going to be worth every moment of it when I knew that my children would be safe from what or whoever caused such a commotion. I strode into the ghost-like town, only to find one storefront light up; the police station. The light flooded from the window into the street, and made the rain glisten. I tied my horse in front of the station, and cautiously walked up the creaking steps, which the fog hindered my view to some extent. I hurriedly opened the door, giving more and more light to the street as I rushed inside.
"Hello?" I managed to squeak out through a fear-clenched jaw. I looked around the cramped room, only a desk and two chairs could fit in the space. The walls were made up of wood panels, and there
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.
All he could see was red, pure anger seeping through every one of his actions. He kicked and kicked in a brutal rhythm, not thinking about anything other than the fact that he hadn't been there when it happened. What if Amaimon had found out, said something and then been hurt because the other him lashed out in anger. He would hate himself forever. What if Amaimon had been killed? What if he'd come home to that? He couldn't stand the thought. In the end he may have been hitting the other him for touching his brother, for being here and convincing him he was his mate. But really it was his anger at himself that drove most of his actions. He could understand the other trying to cover things up to try and avoid any time line mishaps, deep down
Jake watched as Miss Collins’ horse galloped through the trees and out of sight. He made an exasperated snort and slid the Winchester into the rifle scabbard. His duty was to get Duvall, and he’d start by doubling back to the dead or wounded outlaws.
The previous week they had performed the spell successfully. After contacting Mordred, Merlin and Morgana had arranged to meet him and Aglain, the leader of the druid camp, in the woods near a small waterfall, halfway between Camelot and the grave of Gorlois. Morgana always went on her annual pilgrimage to her father's tomb at this time of the year, at the end of spring.
It was August of 1819 in Mississippi. Men were harvesting corn and beans. The smell of the Choctaw own acorn bread filled the air. All the children were prancing about, playing with friends, shooting squirrels with their little toy bows, and wrestling for the last bite of jerky. All but one child. That lonely little boy’s name was Koi. Koi never got to play with the other Choctaw boys, as he had to prepare to become chief.
The fog was heavy, the distance we were able to see was less than 30 yards from our position.
I have received your letter, are the children healthy and well? How are you lately? Have you been sick recently? I am fine, well, as right as one is capable of being over in this land. I have thought of you every second of every day, there is not one moment I have forgotten about you. I just wish to be back home again. Last time you said that Henry was feeling slightly ill, I have some medicine stashed away in the bottom cupboard near the grand clock. If he shall start to feel very poorly, you may go there and find him medicine. You will know which one it is once you see it, I do not want Henry to turn out like poor Will did.
Honey, this has been the longest year of my life, life here is absolutely terrible. It’s only been a year since I have been ranked to Specialist E-7 and sent to Verdun and it has been nothing but pure chaos. As of Last week the 21st of February at 7:12 AM the first shot from a German Krupp landed at Verdun. Lifting up your head you can only see bullets flying everywhere nonstop, it’s a constant battle for land and to weaken the oppositions army. We were told to stay low until ordered to fire, but then our Commanding Officer almost forced us into charging into the Krauts Trenches. Luckily they chose to send a different divisions to risk their lives, God bless their souls. Though since they charged we got bombarded with hundreds of shells the next few days. Disease ran rapid as well, such as Trench Foot it has been a major disease here, my friend Private John Huberts shot himself in his foot after getting this disease, he’s been sent back to Dijon to be treated ever since I haven’t heard from him since. The mud is the second worst part of these trenches, though the constant Rats running around definitely take the cake, every night being woken up from these rats running across you is infuriating for the most part. Also these rats have been eating all our food supply leaving many to starve in the trenches.
The war has been more than I could ever imagine. I have seen such horrific sights, that will remain with me for as long as I live. War is not as they tell us back home. There is no dignity and pride in killing another man; there is only damage and grief. War is exhausting. Half of us do not even understand why we are here, except to kill the Germans. We just want to be home, even the Germans have families they miss too. The trenches we have been staying in have been especially brutal. We stay here for days on end, staring into fields of shrubbery, waiting for the Germans. Sleep is limited and cherished.
The day has come. The day I've feared but tried so hard not to. Two men grab me by the arms and lead outside to the blinding sunlight, reluctantly. My tattered shoes scrape along the rocky sand of the camp, everyones watching me now. They all know what's happening and feel sorry for me, except for a smug figure in the distance, obviously Sergeant Hanley. My eyes dart helplessly around the camp, I see the firing squad and a lump swells in my throat. Then I see Tommo, and remember my promise to him.
I awoke in the forest. It was evening, the sun had long set. The smell of the woods surrounded me, almost suffocating me with the musk. I gazed before me as I stood, no lights, no way to see the path. I was lost, the thick trees blocking any light that might guide me. I began to walk slowly, watching each step carefully. The silence pressed against my ears, it was deafening. My eyes began to adjust to the pressing darkness with each step, and I noticed I was in a large clearing. Fear gripped me, how I gotten here or, why, I did not know.
Through the sound of the thundering rain and howling wind, an ear-piercing scream slices through the air. Never in my life have I heard a sound quite like this one. It’s the type of scream that’s so desperate and horrific that its cuts right through your body and down to your soul and shakes the life out of it. Just on time, the well-known Virginian winds whipped open the door to the privy to let me out into the blasting wind. Through the rain and sleet assaulting my face, I heard the terrible scream rip through time and space again. Right away, my feet start taking off without me, trying to reach the main house, to my family. Through the raging storm, I can see the blue side door come into view, or the spot that used to be where the blue door was.
I peered around through the rain, desperately searching for some shelter, I was drowning out here. The trouble was, I wasn’t in the best part of town, and in fact it was more than a little dodgy. I know this is my home turf but even I had to be careful. At least I seemed to be the only one out here on such an awful night. The rain was so powerfully loud I couldn’t hear should anyone try and creep up on me. I also couldn’t see very far with the rain so heavy and of course there were no street lights, they’d been broken long ago. The one place I knew I could safely enter was the church, so I dashed.
The darkness of her bedroom crept into her body. As time progressed the sounds of the evening grew louder leaving her in a state of fear. Amongst the dark room she would see the shadow of someone standing outside her bedroom window. She didn’t know why someone would want to hurt her. Afraid to tell her parents she found refuge underneath the sheets of her bed. After several sleepless nights she spoke to her mother about the mysterious person outside her window. Her mother shrugged it off and told her that no one was there and not to worry. Her mother believed that this was either her imagination or eating too close to her bedtime. However, Elyn was determined to catch this mysterious man. Next, she enlisted the help of her brother Warren. Frightened they hid in the closet waiting to capture the bandit. Unfortunately, this heroic attempt was unsuccessful as the bandit never revealed himself to anyone but her. Soon it became apparent to everyone that no one was outside her window. But, these feelings of a watchful eye never fled her. As a result, Elyn spent many nights terrified underneath her sheets only falling a sleeping from
The night ebbed in the darkness brUGHT t about the memory of the most tragic event in the history of the small town of Greenville. Not knowing the tragedy that would unfold the citizens rested quietly in the slumber of that hot August night. Storm clouds loomed on the horizon with blazes of light that speckled the sky. In the distance the soft rumble of thunder brought no alarm to this quiet little town. Jenny and Blade lived in the rural area of green pine forests on the outskirts of this sleepy little town. Nowhere in the history of Greenville had such a tragedy happens, and no one was aware of the destruction that loomed on the horizon. As the night closed near the midnight hour, the wind seemed to awaken the lifeless living things in