He waited until the night’s 11th hour. By now the Princess rested in the highest tower of the castle, locked away from the dangerous world, yet so oblivious to the dangers that which fated the rest of her life. Silently the peasant journeyed outside, where he stopped at the wall of the tower where she lay. He watched her in the darkness from below, lifting his face to her, letting the light rest on his every surface of darkness. The night was cloudless. The winds wailed between the motionless oak trees as its thin branches clawed out, ever so slightly disturbing the leaves with its hostile screeches. Not the thick moss of the trees nor the damp leaves squirming in his toes could distract the peasant from so enticing a scent. All that encircled him was the sweetness of lavender and rosewood, filling his entire being as he sunk into the grass, like sand washed over by the water, with every breeze passing
Tears pour out of my dark, blue eyes and roll down my flushed face like a waterfall. I stand barefoot on the peppermint green tiles in my parent’s bathroom, and I draw a heart into the dusty mirror. The bright moonlight reflects the image of a chubby five year old girl with dashing, dangling braids in her purple polka dot pajamas. Resting between my tiny fingers lies a photograph with the portrayal of a young girl clinging to a dark haired man’s broad shoulders in a park scenery which causes my little hands to tremble. The young girl holds a yellow bucket in one hand and a plastic red shovel in the other, and the father and daughter both smile with delight as the sun sets behind them, shining through the fall colored leaves.
Kent does not respond. The brisk air makes him shiver. The once treasured scent of damp leaves now makes his stomach turn. Around him, everything seems sharper, more daunting. Shadows darken. Leaves suspiciously shift. The breeze hisses like a snake. A rope of emotion snares Kent’s chest. Gasping for air, he curls up further, shutting his eyes.
A purple dusk splashing over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. When the sun set, no candle replaced it. Only the lustrous spark in glossy eyes to spare. Under the willow trees, the leaves lay deep and so crisp that a lizard made a great skittering if he ran among them. Elegantly, the innumerable flashing fragments lay shining in midst of the church. Ahead, the path vivaciously glistening like white quartz, yet raindrops on the weary concrete was all it was.
The moonlight illuminated a dripping figure that emerged from a shimmering lagoon, as if covered in liquid metals. Glitter rained down from his head as he ruffled his hair, the view of him walking back up the path to us was like a scene from a movie. The moon was the fullest I’d ever seen it, teetering on top of Silver Lake. Summer noise was my favorite thing, the crackling fire a few feet from me, leaves above me whispering to the sky, even the low rumble of
And while she desperately looked for the keys that would open the barrier between the furious wind and the protective inside, she caught, with the corner of her eye a figure behind her. That blurry figure that was across the street and barely visible behind the white curtain of snow dust lifted by the monstrous gusts. Curious to know what it was, Emma turned around and stared in front of her in order to decipher the statue like figure. Slowly the outline of a human body was fully visible. "Who would possibly dare to sit out here on a day as cold and windy as this?", she whispered to herself, as the wind demonstrated his anger once more with an ear-piercing roar and not far away from where she stood, a tree was defeated by the gust. The 35-year-old women, clinched her eyes, so that several small hills gathered on her nose, for this helped her improve her sight.
Today someone threw an alligator at me! It really hurt. Now I have two options f what to do next. I could either kill it, and make a profit, or I could make it my pet. First let me explain the situation. The alligator was thrown at when I went to the zoo. I was at the 11:30 alligator show. It was a full house. The hoast of the show went cazy in the middle of the show went cazy in the middle of the performance. He started picking up alligators and throwing them at people. One of the aliigators bit me, and scince I did not have any healthcare, I went home. It was sitting on my lap all the way home. I think that it is trianed not to hurt people, but still I am thinking of killing it. I could make a wallet out of him, and with that money I could
Her arm ached with every step she took through the woods in the cold, under a sky covered by rolling clouds closer to black than white-- Rat-black, dirty grey. Any minute, rain would start to drizzle, and then pelt, and then savage the woods, driven by wind that already made the forest canopy murmur and growl.
It was a warm spring day as so many were in these parts, a fine morning for a walk through the hilly pasturelands. The sun blazed high above, but comfortably so at these elevated altitudes. A fresh spring breeze blew softly through the seas of grass below, invigorating the three excited youths that had appeared but moments before. The mercurial wind caressed their silvery golden locks and silken finery with its gentle kiss, highlighting the exquisite artistry of the youth’s attire. The abstract designs seemed to flow with a life of their own in the gentle breeze.
Cassandra shifted the quiver slung over her left shoulder into a better position before she chased after her brothers. Her flaming red curls fell out of the braid she'd allowed Polyxena to give her that morning and they tumbled down her back in a thick cascade. As she ran down the slope, following her brothers who were heading toward the forest beyond the horse stables, she let out a peal of laughter at the rush of joy she felt as the cool summer wind wiped around her and the beautiful sun warmed her milky white skin.
The wind blew softly, pressing against my skin; the heat was humid, sweat licking down my back. Leaves danced in the wind, like ballerina's taking their turn in the spotlight afters years of practice. It was a nice day, and Autumn day, a day for family activities. It was cold enough to need a long sleeved shirt and pants, maybe even sweats. But it wasn’t so bad to wear layers upon layers of clothing. It was a normal day in the small town of Duncan, a mix between everything. I felt the breeze ruffling my hair, but complaints about the heat were all that was talked about.
Music floated through the brisk cold air from the open window of the music school looking over the peaceful lake where families and young lovers basked in the morning gentle rays. The spring flowers, which were gently swaying in the breeze as their petals reached toward the sky while enamoring the hearts of poets and painters alike and the flowers blushed at the attention they received from the young children who’s greedy hands yearned to clutch the colorful beings in their dirty little hands, only to have their mothers and nurse maids smack their hands away. The trees bend, rustled, and sung to all around them as they attempted to tempt people to rest beneath them, though their longing would have to wait till the summer sun began her
Despite her condemnations, the sun sent saffron whispers, travelling through the winds and planting soft summertime kisses on her lips. The river hummed gentle lullabies, singing in mellifluous rifts and delicates lilts. It was all she could do not to fall asleep.
The sunless sky covered the woods over the treetops which created a canopy over my head. The crimson and auburn foliage was a magnificent sight, as this was the season known as Fall. There was a gentle breeze, creating the single sound of rustling leaves. The leaves appeared as though they were dying to fall out of the tree and join their companions on the forest floor. Together with pine needles and other flora the leaves formed a thick springy carpet for me to walk upon.
She stood in a laced primrose red dress with her arms resting over the luxurious balcony decorated with snow white leather seats accessorized with robin blue designer pillows. It was a wet and foggy April’s day and it was drizzling ever so slightly. The small rain drops dripped down her neck like bugs. The heavens peeked through the storm clouds and showed exultant colors of coral and lavender. It was as if the sky above was whispering to her the most tragic secrets of life.