The Forest Monologue

POV: SteveI never seen Sodapop look so...gloomy. He was always the happier one of the bunch, but ever since our gang has fallen...with deaths. First it was Johnny and Dally, then Darry and Ponyboy. His own brothers. Two-Bit was off somewhere with his children.

We were afraid at nigh in the winter. We were not afraid of outside though this was the time of year when snowdrifts curled around our house like sleeping whales and the wind harassed us all night, coming up from the buried fields, the frozen swamp, with its old bugbear chorus of threats and misery. We were afraid of inside, the room where we slept. At this time upstairs of our house was not finished. A brick chimney went up

"Come read the rest of this, honey. " His mother had joined him on the porch. "It's a trip. " The torture chair looked normal in the hours before tea. M​adame poured a second cup of tea for herself, and offered to do the same for the visiting luminary.

Margarita Engle grew up in Los Angeles. She developed a attachment for her mother's country. She visited her family in Cuba during the summers. She now lives in Central California. Margarita Engle shined light on complicated Cuban history through her poetry book The Surrender Tree.

“The journey will be long and hard. Are you up for this?” Mel asks, acting like he doesn 't know the answer to the question already. “I 've never been more ready in my life.” Bill’s hard tone showing him a new side of his brother.

LaBouef, who has been concealed from sight, fires a single blow that kills the scoundrel just in time. It was an exciting final showdown full of excitement and as anticipated, the good guys won.

A country was truly frightening. Even Kirin, the lone wolf, gave in under such pressure. With a sigh Willem opened the scroll. «Kill her, you have my blessing. Your

I wanted to run away. I didn’t want to be here, I said. “Where is here?”, a voice echoes back to me. My mind, swimming in forsaken thoughts…I couldn’t even answer that. I feel a gush of wind roll down my back.

Chapter 1 Something in the Forest: In this chapter, a character named Charles Monet. a Frenchman living in Kenya, is introduced. Describing his daily life, the author points out some risky behaviors that may have led to Monet contracting the virus. Some of those behaviors include over-interaction with wild animals and sleeping with many women, as implied by the author. After contracting the virus, Monet goes through many symptoms such as headache and vomiting feverishly.

My name is Bob and I am a maple tree. I hate it when people put dagger-looking things in me. Why do the people need that gold, yellowish, sticky stuff anyway? When someone comes near me, I dump my leaves on them.

It was a cold gloomy night in the village of Sleepy Hollow, the fog was thick and the wind was roaring. The crow sat perched on the Sleepy Hollow sign as an indication something wicked was lurking in the town. The leaves were beginning to fall and soon so would the heads of some the people in this scared little village. I was riding around the town one foggy night looking for my next head to take. All the sudden my emotions charged at me from the inside out.

Dear Ellie, I have read your story “The Night” I found it very interesting and informative. There is obviously a reason you wrote the novel I think it was to portray the theme of survival.on page 31 of “The Night” You had to lie about your age to stay with your father so you could live,If you had not ran into the strange man you would have been separated from your father and maybe even killed. Even on the way to Auschwitz there were ways you could have died according to page 23 it said “There was little air the lucky ones found themselves near a window”. If you had not gotten enough air you could have suffocated and died before you even made it to Auschwitz. From the time you got on

"Take the back door. Run until you drop and don 't look back, do you hear me?" Darian 's outrageously curly hair fell over his eyes as he nodded erratically and scrambled to his feet. In the next second, he was gone and Ephanias immediately forgot about him as the creature advanced on him, screaming and lunging with all eight of its hairy legs aimed to pierce his body. He sighed, drawing a runed dagger from his belt.

Small, stagnant puddles, on the uneven planks of timber wood reflected the dark, brooding sky above - rarely disturbed by the callous slices of moonlight seeping through the clouds, creating a specular reflection through a ripple in the languid water. Surrounding the lake, lay a rigid, pine forest, which stretched far past the mountainous boundaries - rising high, around the solitary lake. A death-like mist pervaded through the trees enveloping them in a gelid, cutting fog. A silent, lonely willow shivered as the still, biting air engulfed its aged branches in an icy cage and suffocated its stiffened lungs, causing each freezing breath to drag. Crusted leaves stacked one on top of the other as

The cool, upland air, flooding through the everlasting branches of the lively tree, as it casts a vague shadow onto the grasses ' fine green. Fresh sunlight penetrates through the branches of the tree, illuminating perfect spheres of water upon its green wands. My numb and almost transparent feet are blanketed by the sweetness of the scene, as the sunlight paints my lips red, my hair ebony, and my eyes honey-like. The noon sunlight acts as a HD camera, telling no lies, in the world in which shadows of truth are the harshest, revealing every flaw in the sight, like a toddler carrying his very first camera, taking pictures of whatever he sees. My head looks down at the sight of my cold and lifeless feet, before making its way up to the reaching arms of an infatuating tree, glowing brightly virescent at the edges of the trunk, inviting a soothing, tingling sensation to my soul.