Today wasn’t an average day it was in the dead of winter, when it happened the thing I can’t forget began. Me and the mushroom men, who looked kinda of like a red and white overgrown mushroom with hands and feet, were going to play kick the toadstool when we got a message from azrial, who warned us that a man was coming to get the harp, the only thing keeping the forest alive, can you believe the nerve of that a man. The harp kept all things in the enchanted forest alive by keeping a barrier up obscuring anybody from seeing it. I decided that the best course of action was to go and turn him around, without hurting him, I mean for all I knew he didn’t know where he got himself into. I walked up stealthful to him like a lion stalking a deer, …show more content…
While I was doing that the red and white mushroom men spun him around making him lose him sense of direction or so I thought. He just started walking toward the harp again, only this time he was close dangerously close, to seeing it. I ran toward the harp silently and grabbed it, normal this would be punished but under the circumstance it was acceptable, and started bring it to azrail. She would know what to do with it, however I was wrong, she didn’t know what to do especially when the man, who I thought I lost, came toward me and grabbed the harp he started saying things like this will make me rich and stuff like that. To see his toupa, short shirt, which showed his fat rolls, and really badly torn pants, was unpleasant, so I decided to get rid of him by using another method, luckily death himself guaranteed that I won’t die unless wanted. I then grabbed onto his toupa jumped off the nearby cliff, and watched as he followed, that’s when death showed up and asked why I did brought a man to his demise. Showing him how the mushroom men grabbed onto him when I jumped off the cliff, he was answered. Now we can get him away from the harp I thought. However, I didn’t account
I slowly turn and face the monstrous sound. Him. A disgusting, horrid, pathetic excuse of a man. Of course, I did not voice my thoughts. Instead, I charge for him, my fear fading into an anger like never before.
In the poem “The Double Play”, the author uses metaphors, words, and phrases to suggest turning a double play in baseball is like a dance. Some words throughout the poem could be used to connect the idea of a double play being like dancing. One word that could suggest this is, the word used “poised”, “Its flight to the running poised second baseman” (12). Poised in this sense could mean that the player knows what he is doing and has mastered the double play, while a dancer can be poised meaning light and graceful. Another word in this poem that relate to a double play and dancing is the term “pirouettes”, “Pirouettes / leaping, above the slide, to throw” (13-14). The player is described to be doing a pirouette in the double play while in the
At the store, Abanazar Bolger, realized that I had priceless, ancient treasure in my hand. When I didn’t agree to lead him to the rest of the Sleer’s treasure, he locked me up in a room. I overheard Abanazer talking to his friend Tom, and I learned that Jack (the nasty killer) has been to Abanazer’s pawnshop looking for me, and he left behind his business card. Then I heard Abanazer and Tom arguing about whether to use me to find more treasure or to sell me to Jack. They were both greedy and wanted the brooch for themselves. They finally ended up in a fight until they were both somehow knocked out. Luckily, Liza showed up and helped me fade, or become invisible to human eyes. I used human skills to unlock the door, and Liza and I went back to the graveyard. Later, I used paint, a paintbrush, and a huge paperweight to make Liza a beautiful
Fog clung to the streets suffocating everything in a blanket of grey mist. The streets were dark and damp and the houses were crammed tightly into rows. It was eerily silent. A large black car drove through the fog, disappearing into the distance. The once green grass was crunchy, grey and dead. There were no trees, animals or laughter.
Nolan narrowed his eyes at me, ready to retort but suddenly he shut his yap staring past me. I glanced over my shoulder and spotted our principal, Kay Pal, and his daughter, Janine. Next to her was a tall guy with black hair and dark blue eyes. I recognized him as Kayden Adams, Janine's boyfriend, according to Instascam--I mean Instagram.
"Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste." Rolling Stones - Sympathy for the Devil Well, I'm neither a man or wealthy and have questionable taste, but this is what comes to mind when I'm asked who I am! I usually end up blurbing something garbled, and laughing strangely before trailing off into awkward silence. This my friends, is why I write.
With preparations out of the way we set off for Morgana's castle knowing that most of us would not return to Camelot. The journey passed like any other I had been on, but the night before we were to arrive at Morgana's castle I awoke to the sound of horses fleeing. The knights all of them cowards had stolen almost all of our supplies leaving me with my suit of armor, a dull dagger, and my horse. I wanted nothing more than to chase after the knights, but they had tied me up and left me to die. There was no way I could get out of this trap the sound of wolves howling echoed across the land, and I was sure I would be dead by morning so I decided to fall back asleep. Whilst I sleep a carriage made its way down a dirt road and stopped in front of the remains of the camp me and the knights had set up hours earlier. The coachman helped the woman out of the carriage, and they walked over to my unconscious body to see if I was dead or not. The coachman bent down beside me and placed his left hand against my mouth. Seeing that I was still breathing the coachman picked me up of the ground threw me over his shoulder and carefully placed me inside the
Then I saw him. In the middle of the church half swamped by the blood, he lay. I struggled to my feet and wadded with great difficulty through the coagulating blood. It was definitely him and he had a faint pulse. I dragged him by his arm outside and yelled. The gargoyles that adorned the front of the church were peering down at me. At that moment I saw movement out of the corner of my eye again, but I was startled by the claxon sound warning of a bombing raid.
I twist him by the neck and kill him. I feel very bad. I feel not like human. Like beast or something. He give me his food and he hold me like he hold his mother and I kill him” (146).
It was a warm midsummer's day in a small village just outside of Wales. The village was quaint with not even a hundred people. Like any small village everyone knew everyone and things never changed. Everything remained the same from the crops grown to the people who lived there, except for one man. His name was Nathaniel Daly.
ow this is amazing I have never been behind the scenes of a Carnival look at all these animals. Oh no what was that sound that I just heard it sounded like a horse, oh no it actually was a horse and now it's chasing me and it's fast, this is awful.
On the drive home from Scott’s birthday bash, the night’s events blitz my brain. What in the hell possessed me to bring up Elizabeth? Not that I regret it, I don’t. His secret festered inside me.
All I could hear was Sebastian and Ciel’s cruel laughter, I tried hard to block out the sounds but it was no use. I started to feel very faint and knew that my soul had almost been fully eaten. I tried to scream but I was too weak to even let out a murmur. Suddenly I felt my body go limp, but it still didn’t stop the ringing sound of laughter in my ears…
Too late! He had heard me. Why had I been so stupid as to scream? I had lost valuable seconds and drawn negative forces to me.
When discussing the poetic form of dramatic monologue it is rare that it is not associated with and its usage attributed to the poet Robert Browning. Robert Browning has been considered the master of the dramatic monologue. Although some critics are skeptical of his invention of the form, for dramatic monologue is evidenced in poetry preceding Browning, it is believed that his extensive and varied use of the dramatic monologue has significantly contributed to the form and has had an enormous impact on modern poetry. "The dramatic monologues of Robert Browning represent the most significant use of the form in postromantic poetry" (Preminger and Brogan 799). The dramatic monologue as we understand it today "is a lyric poem in which the speaker addresses a silent listener, revealing himself in the context of a dramatic situation" (Murfin 97). "The character is speaking to an identifiable but silent listener at a dramatic moment in the speaker's life. The circumstances surrounding the conversation, one side which we "hear" as the dramatic monologue, are made by clear implication, and an insight into the character of the speaker may result" (Holman and Harmon 152).