‘BURN HIM AT THE STAKES!’ They screech. I was getting drowned in the endless crowds of vicious peasants. Their shrieks and screams ringing in my ears. Why was I getting stomped on? The peasants should be kicking themselves! ‘Enough. THROW HIM!’ Throw me? How dare they offer to do such foul things to an upper-classed individual such as myself! Now the peasants offer to throw me?- Wait, No! I cannot have such foul creatures even lay a finger on me.- ‘THROW HIM!’ I come to my senses. I’m thankfully not tainted by the foul peasants. It was a nightmare... Humph, I don’t have time for a nightmare, but obviously, I need time for myself; because no person is above me. Outside, A maid is awaiting my presence. ‘Mr Smith has cancelled his meeting with …show more content…
What a joke. We’ll let it be! He’ll be begging on his short knees when he comes to my mansion crying like a peasant begging.’ The maid stared sceptically. ‘I suppose…’ Now, I’ll traverse to the town and see how the ignorant masses are surviving. I arrive at the puny town which peasants call home. The house had shattered windows and the streets were filled with mossy pathways. An officer stands, kicking a peasant. ‘You haven’t paid your taxes! I’ll have you arrested-’ Their glistening eyes gazed into mine. ‘Is that the governor!’ ‘GOVERNOR! PRAISE THE GOVERNOR.’ Peasants will keep on shouting my name, passing on the message of my presence, this love for me never end! Until… A passage of silent kicks in. Merely standing there, a peasant glaring at me. Their monotone glare hit me harder than being kicked by the peasants. The atmosphere… brisk and tense. The cheers, cryptic and static. ‘PRAISE. THE. GOVERNOR.’ They continue. No… make it stop. The peasants… Why do they sound like a broken record! I must go. ‘HURRY!’ I shout. I must return to my mansion. The atmosphere still murky from the decayed city, I arrive …show more content…
‘You’re here… I see…’ Her head tilts and she smiles gently as she offered tea. The events from earlier flash in my mind. The static voices clash and overtake my thoughts. The velvet carpet, the dark red wine, they are all so mesmerising. The room is going to blur into black, until a shadow appears. A harsh sensation of pain crosses my face. ‘What are you doing-!’ She stood highly, her narrowing florescent green eyes conflict with mine. ‘When will you stop your nonsense, what will that give you!’. ‘Ha! Obviously, I’ll have fame, money and power!’ She stares at me, but now with disappointment. ‘Is that it? I’d beg to differ.” A powerful shock knocks me to the ground, the events earlier today replaying. My fists tighten and I’m sent back into my nightmare. The peasants kicking me, each hit harder than the last. ‘Actually… I don’t want that. I just want to go. Even if I become as measly as a peasant, just let me get out of this mess!’. Her composure softens, and she begins to speak. ‘I’m glad you think that way.’ She clutched on a machine and pressed the button. The red velvet curtains start melding into pitch darkness. The darkness starts engulfing the mansion, bit by bit my vision starts to
and me going about our own business and being civil. I remember the warning which we had received from the Prince not a few weeks ago. He said that anyone caught fighting would be punished by sentence of death. I would not dare betray the Prince, especially after the entrance he had made the last time. The way in which he had entered with his bodyguards all on horseback, was so gallant.
Try as I might, I can’t seem to focus on the words coming out of my best friend’s mouth, my heartbeat echoing in my ears, drowning out any sounds she made. The table’s edge is smooth, gliding across my hand as I run my fingers over the corner. The droning continued, but I could only catch snippets: seating....invitations....decorations. All of these things seemed so trivial, so unimportant, compared to the thoughts that ran through my head.
“Your demands are tantamount to slavery. It might not look like it, but the NCR’s bureaucracy is more efficient at controlling people than any slave collar. I made a mistake, backing your cause,” Thomas spat. “I swung the odds in your favour, and this is how you decide to repay me? A knife in the back?”
The fire, page 36: “I could literally smell his sweat, hear every ragged breath, every cry, every cut of the whip. I could see his body jerking, convulsing, straining against the rope as his screaming went on and on. My stomach heaved, and I had to force myself to stay where I was and keep quiet.Why didn’t they stop!”
Thus, at the end of the story the townsfolk laugh at Guis as they march to the bank to demand their money. Guis, they believe, has nothing while they have a remarkable treasure in cheques. Little do they know that disaster awaits when they demand payment for their blank cheques. When their demand is refused, their little town will no longer be happy and content. Moreover, their attempt to cash the cheques will lead to the discovery of the artist's murder and the ruin of the village. The doors of prison will swing shut upon them as quickly as the doors of the bank do. But in reality the village has already been ruined, its innocence destroyed by the capitalistic power of witch's money.
Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are Who, trimm'd in forms and foreheads of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves And throwing but shows of service on their lords Do well thrive by them; and when they have lined their coats Do themselves homage. These fellows have some soul, And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago. In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not for love and duty, but seeming so, for my peculiar end.
They are drowning me from the inside, I find myself desperately gasping for air – struggling to keep consciousness. Someone, please put me out of my misery! I would have preferred decapitation instead of this form of torture. Someone please chop my head off and get this over with. Everything is pitch black
"I visited, last night, some virtuous folk, and, quite by chance, of you they spoke . . . the quantity of gentleman you see and your by now notorious coquetry . . . I came to your defense as best as I could, assured them you were harmless, . . ."
Timon then rejects the thought and sends his servants to his friends to ask for a loan. All of his “friends” reject the servants. A crowd of creditor servants swarm Timon’s house. Timon is then outraged that he is trapped in his house by swarms of creditor servants. Timon then plans a last party.
...e whole town against me, branding me with their fiery fingers, persecuted by people who claim to be decent, and right in front of them I will put on a crown of thorns, like a mistress of a married man!” The free flow of words from Nora’s and Adela’s hearts triggers the audience to think about the power of transformation.
As I walk down the stairs, step by step, it appears to become darker and darker. Water drips on my head from the ceiling. I must be in the basement. I see a brass candleholder with a lit candle placed on it. I put my finger through the loop, lifting it off the dusty table to light my way.
As we walked through the woods on the dark cold night in October we notice screaming of what we had thought to be the neighbor girl. We creep closer to the large mansion and climb the gates to get in the massive front yard. As me and my friends Kevin, Douglas, and randy reach the front door, we slowly creep open the front door, we hear screams and yells and very quickly leave the situation. We head back to the house for the night and decide that we will make a plan and return to the mansion tomorrow.
I no longer saw my father before me, but a tyrant from the Old World where only men were people. To him I was nothing but his last unmarried daughter to be bought and sold. Even in my revolt I could not keep back a smile. “It’s no use talking to you. I see to my sorrow that my words won’t help you.
(.) We ain’t got much, but such as it is”, and his wife who, just like him, is ready to feed the hungry “set right up to the table an’ take a good swig of tea whilst I make y’s toast” and console the poor and needy. The reader wants the Councils to be right in their beliefs in the goodness of the human soul, and in their religion as the husband declares “When I see a man down, and things all on top of me, I jest like to kick 'em off and help 'em up. It is the last straw for the farmer, who “transformed into an avenging demon.”
...ght, illuminating her round face with the artificial glow. Pulling the bottle out of my coat pocket, I curl my fingers around the cap and rotate it. With a few turns the cap falls into my palm. I put the rim to Olivia’s small lips and slowly tilt the bottle, allowing her to sip the warm milk. Suddenly, I was joined by the woman. There she was again, her face lit up with the glow of the fire. Her beauty almost made me forget everything that was happening. She has a devilish grin on her face and her eyes twinkled in delight. “After that dinner I’m sure everyone would prefer something sweeter.”