The gale was causing great waves of grass to roll across it. Dotting the plain were small, scorched pits that billowing smoke. The man eyed them warily – there seemed that nothing was safe. He figured he would freeze to death soon enough and ran under a pair of gnarled trees. Streams of rain poured down from the branches and down the trunks – however, it shielded him from the worst of the gale.
The rain suddenly beat down onto him, blurring his vision beyond recognition and making his footing slippery. His foot suddenly shot out from under him and he ended up crashing his tailbone on a rock. Pain flashed up his lower back and down his legs. The pine trees started to mock him with the wind blowing through their branches, creating a rustling noise equal to a thousand voices. A thousand voices that told Marquis he was insane and that it would be better to drown himself in the mud then defiling the earth with his madness.
It was 6am and the sky was crying again. As the tears pelted down and hit my skin like needles, which left me shivering and raw, I stumbled to my feet, dazed and confused, with no idea of where I was. The skeletal trees were grasping at the pallid sky and as I stood in the midst of this empty hell-hole a sudden burst of realisation hit me that I was on the run. Running from the demons who took my innocence, but deep down, I knew they would find me. I shook of the pessimistic thoughts and pulled myself together the best I could.
The Myth of the Almighty Dragons and God An ear-piercing scream rang throbbing through the forest branches. Twigs snapped and cracked like brittle bones. The gusts of wind whipped up the smooth sand into blinding clouds of grit, as the white foam swirled amongst it, mingling together like storm clouds. The tribe slowed down to a jog and looked warily at their ominous surroundings. The impending trees' branches entwined like spidery fingers, clawing at the overcast sky in an upward spiral.
My fear became stubbornness, which refused me to answer. The men were walking rapidly and they ferociously lugging me around me in the mud and they had tied my hands very tightly with rope and I felt excruciating pain in my arms, I felt if I was holding a cactus with long sharp needles which buried in my skin. Every minute the sound of “creek, creek, creek” was building up the pressure within the white men. Each ‘creek’ made them... ... middle of paper ... ...rsh whisper, as if anticipating the cruelty to come. There is a sharp chill in the air, like a slap in the face and the crickets had increased their tempo of ‘creek’creek’creek’ like a heart thumping.
The adrenaline shot me forcing me to move but shock shattered me into thin slices that were impossible to put back again. I fetched frantically for a plastic bag, my body sweltered with heat as I felt away for... ... middle of paper ... ...rt. I could taste real blood leaking out of my mouth. A bolt of lightning jolted every nerve within me and an aggravating pain caused me to collapse. I was shaking and by eyes bulged out as a sharp pain forced its way through every nerve and vessel in my body.
The wintery mix feels like shards of glass ripping into my skin. I attempt to move, but my joints were nearly frozen from the sub zero temperatures around me. My fiery anger, overflowing with hatred towards God, may have been cooled by the hyperborean atmosphere had my aching rib cage not protected it. I breathe in the air, only to breathe in snow, then cough violently to try and rid my body of the pure, white, burning flakes. “I hate you, you filthy tyrant!” I scream, shrieking as more snow enters my lungs, burning them.
A screeching north wind raked the moor with bitter talons, driving the snow before it in lances of vicious ice. It depressed the sky in iron-grey clouds, their billows cloaking the moon, and flayed the dead brown sedges. The mud froze hard, their customary treachery exchanged for the new danger of slippery ice for the duration of the winter. Far beyond the mire, in the stone castle at the edge of the moor, a woman screamed in the agony of her labor. Droplets of sweat beaded her brow and shone in the flickering firelight, and flowed freely in hot rivers between her tightened shoulder blades and down her ruddy face.
Every bit of my emasculated body ached in torment. My stomach gripped in protest, as I screamed in dismay. I could here footsteps echoing in the abyss that lay outside the oak door. It was coming. All the hope I had drained away, and utter fear settled in.
As I begin to swim towards what I believe to be land, the sounds of metal clanking against each other fills my ears with each... ... middle of paper ... ...before.” Ralof said in a condescending tone. After another thirty minutes of walking, a loud, deep roar came from behind us. Its sound shook the ground and hurt the ears as it came, billowing from the sky. “Uh oh, boy we must hurry, dragons are coming!” Ralof said, bursting into a full on sprint towards the town. On instinct I started sprinting too, to catch up with Ralof, but he just kept getting further and further away from me.