It’s a cool evening March, I know so because the hairs on my arms can’t stop talking to me, and even though the sky is not really visible through the luscious grown forest trees I can still make out the eerie glow of the moon envelope the dark path that lays ahead. Suddenly I hear the crunch of footsteps; they were barely audible not much louder than a fading whisper noticeable among the forest seemingly holding its breath. I haven’t had much luck looking for the one they called Grendel and so I was tempted to sprint in the direction of the footsteps. The thought that it could have been my mind wanting to hear something that wasn’t there crept unto me as I decided to just slightly pick up my pace instead. As I kept going the only sound I heard …show more content…
It wasn’t very clear but no doubt his skin didn’t seem fleshly rather dry and cracked like Solid sand. How this behemoth could make almost no noise is even stranger. I stayed hidden behind a tree among thousands, devouring his every move. Just as he swiped his hand in the air revealing a house made of wood that wasn’t there before Although I should have known something was up every part of this forest was covered in trees and that spot was clear of them. I crept closer and closer until he was no more than 10 feet away in my previous encounters with many creatures at this distance I could usually smell them but this one didn’t seem to have any detectable smell, though no doubt this was my target the townspeople had spoken about. Unwilling to wait any longer with a cold hand I threw a dagger and watched it soar through the tree line and enter the clear space, cutting the wind as it went until “Swish” penetrating the skull from behind. Not my brightest moment as he turned around fuming scanning the tree line just as I took cover behind my tree. if I die I die I said as I bolted from behind the tree, and sprinted towards him covering ground very fast until I got within distance then I jumped a good 10 feet high, sword blade pointing down as gravity brought me down straight on his
Kristina and Trey gathered all of their little belongings mostly caring about the lockbox containing about $3,600 of the finest mexican glass a.k.a meth. Rushing out of their little apartment as soon as possible after seeing a wanted picture in the newspaper of kristina stealing money illegally with a fake id. She thought it was odd that she had very very little remorse about getting up and leaving without saying goodbye to her baby that wouldn't even recognize her, her mom which she stole her identity and money from. It didn't phase her and she kept loading what little belongings she had into Trey's mustang. They rushed onto the snowy freeway still tweaked as usual, but exhausted from no sleep like usual and running from the police and the mexican drug lord that they owe and weren't planning on paying back.
Dusk had come, silent, ceremonious, which brought her painful but pleasant memories in the diminishing light. Her shaking hands and arthritic fingers from the passing of time were holding the record player’s metal arm. The stylus hopped, moving lightly and quickly over damaged grooves from excessive use, landing very deep in the vinyl recording. She attempted again, one of her hands embracing the other, to the point where the overture’s rewarding hop and crepitation signified the precise spot. The incongruous speakers passed a faint melody of music.
At first, he thought it was an extremely large dog, but he was mistaken. The creature also walked on its hind legs, and had rows of razor sharp teeth with an extremely long tongue with a needle at the end of it. If I was getting chased by this beast then I would be scared for my life. I would not know how to defend myself either, since the beast is 15 feet tall and is pure muscle. You have no chance to defend yourself if you’re by yourself.
It was a beautiful day for the beautiful game of baseball to be played in the friendly confines of Wrigley Field, Chicago: breezy, sunny, but not a scorching hot, sweat-bead kind of day. Merely six miles south of Wrigley Field, we boarded the CTA purple line el train, along with clusters and clusters of Chicago Cubs fans also getting on each and every rail car from who knows where. But, let me tell you, I was in awe; I have never been with so many true fans who knew, not only baseball, but knew the Cubs! “Who’s ready for the Cubs to crush the Astros!”
Grendel Sentence Length In Grendel by John Gardner, the author's use of varying sentence length between Grendel and the dragon in chapter five represents the shift in Grendel from immaturity to understanding of the world. For the majority of the chapter, Grendel's dialogue consists of short, few word sentences in contrast to the long, almost rambling sentences of the dragon; these differing sentence lengths serve to represent the intelligence of the dragon and Grendel's immature misunderstanding. Before voicing anything, Grendel's thoughts are long and descriptive as revealed in his description of the room when he thinks: "vanishing away across invisible floors, there were things of gold, gems, jewels, silver vessels the color of blood in
More than 450 million years ago, the Niagara Escarpment sprawled under shallow seas teeming with marine life. When these creatures died, their remains mixed with the sediment and became interred in rock. When the seas evaporated, a cache of fossils was left behind: the trilobite's feathery legs, the sea scorpion’s claw. Over time, water and wind whittled the land, creating caves like the Grotto.
"Are you reading this? If you are, then you have woken. You have been in a coma for 23 years. Everything you've ever seen, felt, heard or tasted was a hallucination. Your friends weren't real.
The chief of police I am slaving for wants me to write in this journal. I’m not a sissy, but there’s nothing wrong with that either. I had no choice in the matter because I was her last option as a field agent. Jerry was on family leave, Michael was investigating a child abduction case and here I was, alone with my boss in our lonely, yet homey, police station.
The Raid Angry shouts shook the waking kingdom as the mob of unclean villagers were stoning the King’s Palace because of his new weapon rules. “How are we going to defend ourselves if you confiscate our blacksmith weapons!?” exclaimed a villager. Sir Gerald smelt burning wood, smelly manure and odours from the unclean villagers as he was overlooking them at the King’s palace. He saw pitch black figures rapidly marching towards the palace and exclaimed “Bandits! I need to warn the villagers!”
I was thinking about trying to turn around and fight him, but obviously more than likely that would end with my death. I figured It was going to have to do something soon, so I did something most would not do in an unknown area, I jumped in the murky green water and dived to the very bottom and hid in the mud. I did this till I thought the monster was gone, but just to be sure, I stayed down there for a little over two hours, just to be absolutely sure. I was glad my suit, had a large supply of air
"Alec Ramsay and Black Minx are out in front, five lengths ahead, AND THEY ARE UNDER THE WIRE!" the radio in the barn blared. I had just finished jumping my palomino "Above the Clouds" but I call him Cloud for short. Blackwater Ranch was owned by the Leigh's but they were at a horse show, so I was watching the ranch for them. I took my hunt seat saddle off Cloud's back then removed the saddle pad and set it out to dry.
“The mammoth vanished overnight in May. The Viking Ship has run aground. The graffiti-covered T. rex has been lying on its side for years, its puny arms aloft. Swan-shaped gondolas lie scattered in the undergrowth, the occasional head poking above the weeds. The Old England village’s mock-Tudor buildings are charred from a fire in the summer, and the Wild West Village is merely a pile of rubble.
As I see Fog coming over the mountains, I know it’s not good. Is he looking for something or is he hiding something? The taste of the dampness is making me feel like there is something in me. As I’m listing for anything a sound or ANYTHING I don’t hear a single whisper, I scream, my fingers are getting more and agiler. As I am flowing, the smell of Fog gets me so riled up I just want to rip myself in half.
Sounds coming from the forest remind you just how alone you are right now. You haven't seen the face of another person in days, and the nearest city, which is where you're off to, is still three days' ride off. You slowly come to the realization of what the sounds from the forest are, though. Shouting. Human shouting.
He stood in a pure black cloak, with its hood resting behind his head, a gray tunic, fastened by a black belt covered his torso. The finish to his garb was a pair of soft black leather moccasins and a silver bladed saxe knife, whose black and leather pommel, protruded from his belt. Despite his garb, it was hard to see, how he had escaped the notice of everyone, even though his figure seem to disappear and reappear frequently, giving his head, a disembodied look. One could see that with the cowl of his cloak up, he would be almost invisible, blending in perfectly with the shadow of the room.