A Narrative Essay On The Alligator

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

Vibrant colors of red, orange, and yellow slowly replaced the once green fixtures above. Autumn's sweet breath chilled the tiny hairs on the back of their neck. Echoed laughter and faint odors of wood smoke filled the air around them. A miniature figure stood in the middle of the thick tar. Hair strung high, imperfectly intertwined into two thin braids.

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.

One windy autumn day she dropped her purple, floral hat out of her window. She watched as it flew to the mysterious woods. She had no other choice but to go and chase the hat. She slipped her cloak on and went out to retrieve her favorite clothing accessory. She headed toward the forest the feeling of anxiety and dread filled her body.

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.

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

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.

The light reflected off of the green and yellow of the leaves and the trees, making the trees seem much larger than they normally would. Rustling of the leaves was the only sound that could be heard over Frisk’s breathing. The rays of the sun warmed their sweater. All that could be heard is the soft crunching of the leaves underfoot. The birds rustled impatiently as if waiting for Frisk to leave. Yet they still continued through the bulk of the woods, breathing quickly. Frisk looked at their hands shadows of leaves and flowers covering the warm light. The knuckles white still from the firm grip they held, small indents in the palm from their nails. Frisk took a deep breath, putting a small hand on their heart.

I breathed warm air and rub my hands together against the cold. I blink from the frigid January weather as gusts of wind blow through my glasses, whipping my hair against my eyes. I rubbed them together, and the red brick buildings and patches of snow blurred together for an instant. A huffing wind rises up, stirring the flaps of our shirts, and I absentmindedly look up, looking for the source of the wind. The incandescent light of the lamppost shines a shadow behind us, reflecting against the glassy surface of the frozen ground. Jack leans in close to me, also gasping from the gusts.

Crisp, chilly breezes tugged at the brown and red leaves which lay on the slightly frosted ground. A forest of trees dressed with orange leaves allowed the wind to move their branches, some of those leaves detaching from their spots and gliding away with the cool draught. Grey clouds float in the sky, showing no threat to rain. This casts an eerie yet calming glow upon the forest below it. A figure, Ali Whiteman enters the silent forest, appearing to just be a young woman. Her thin, pale hands are gripping the opposite sleeves of her over-sized white sweater as she meanders around the expanse. Her black leather boots cause what little frost has formed on the ground the crunch audibly with every step.

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

The crisp summer air filled the local park as the vivid sun glistened in the sky. One could hear magpies tweeting and dancing across the horizon. The unbounded vault of celestial blue was hemmed with silver. Trees stood as majestic as soldiers, whispering sweet secrets to each other. The luscious emerald green grass was a carpet, as soft as wool and the clambering, azure river was muttering and lisping through the mossy park. The salubrious, Spring aroma drifted and whirled from the primroses

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.

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 grass whispered under his body. He put his arm down, feeling the sheat of fuzz on it, and far away, below, his toes creaking in his shoes. The wind sighed over his shelled ears. The world slipped bright over the glassy round of his eyeballs like images sparked in a crystal sphere. Flowers were suns and fiery spots of sky strewn through the woodland. Birds