A Short Story : The Story Of A Hero

This story all starts one day on a cloudy night at the supermarket on 4th street. Bob was walking to the supermarket when he saw a veteran's swoop down to save. He said what a mighty fine hero you are. Turned out his name was Mr. Veteran. So, bob thought... hmm, he must a strong veterinarian. So, Bob took a stroll in the park only to find Mr. Veteran suit had been covered in blood. So, Bob looked for clues.

A beam of early morning sunlight played on his face. He turned and scooted to another part of the bed in order to avoid waking. Within a few minutes the beam of sunlight had caught up with him again and was shining again directly on his eyelids. He lay there, his head in a fog, rubbed his eyes and stared at the white plastered walls trying to determine where he was and even who he was. The brightness of the room overwhelmed him with a fierce intensity. It was a few minutes before his eyes became accustomed to the light. He entertained his semi-waking mind by tracing patterns of the earthy colors on the tapestry that hung on the wall facing him. He rubbed his hands slowly on the bedsheet, felt a smoothness and said to himself, "This

“Run!” the little boy cried. The roman soldiers came attacking at village and killing 2 dozen men and women. The little boy was named Damon. His father is a god, his name was Mercury, the god of speed. Damon was just a demigod.

“Small town big heart,” they say locked away behind their cold immaculate castle gates that rest on the remains of the previous farmland and plains. The collective heart beats but only at a convenient time suiting parties involved. “A place where everyone matters,” they utter as their motto in indistinguishable monotone voices. The people are too wrapped up in their everyday lives to ever be concerned about their neighbor, they look through life with gilded glasses. It’s as if a fog had descended slowly creeping into their view distorting what they once held most dear.

It was a clear tranquil London evening, warmer than you would expect in mid fall. At this late hour these streets were completely vacant, with only the street lamps and occasional shop window illuminating the road. The only sound was the pounding of sneakers frantically hitting the pavement. With every step the noise grew louder, bringing the woman closer to the street and,she prayed, safety.

The blood moon is a fateful night for all Werewolves, a child born on that night is sentenced for death, but through a twist of fate she is sparred, but her family is not. No one knows what happens if the blood moon child is allowed to grow, yet fate has a way of discovering secrets. Raised in wolf Form Ember becomes a relentless hunter, but what happens when she experiences her first full moon? Will she annihilate all werewolves like the prophecy foretold, or can predestination be overcome?

Palmiro and his sleeping son Josh are on a plane near South America when his pilot died. He started making weird noises over the intercom. Josh was curious what was going on so he asked his dad. His dad, Palmiro, said everything was going to be ok. All of a sudden they hear the wind whistling against the sharp edges of the plane. They both looked out the window and saw the ground getting closer and closer. The plane started to plummet to the ground. Josh started freaking out and had no idea what to do. He saw only one parachute and an emergency door. Palmiro told his son to quickly grab the parachute. They both strapped in together and jumped out. The plane crashed on an island, no one knows where.

By the time Peter arrived at the castle the sun was close to setting. He sat down in the solar to read for a little before Adelina came to collect him so they could walk to the chapel together. Afterwards, they walked back to the castle and Adelina finished preparing the deer meat that Peter had caught that day. They didn't like to waste time in eating fresh meat, as it would go off quickly. Adelina was a great cook and Peter loved the vegetables she prepared from the gardens. The two of them ate the meal and chatted about how the estate was going.

“Then you must take up your well-shaped oar and go on a journey until you come where there are men living who know nothing of the sea,” said Teiresias, a famous blind prophet.

Charity awoke just before daybreak to the sound of a wolf’s howl. She was use to all sorts of wild critters, but there was something about a wolf's howl, that always gave her an eerie feeling. She peeked out from under the wagon flap, but it was so dark that she couldn't see five feet in front of her. She decided to wait a little while to get up to use the bathroom and make coffee.

Three grueling days of marching. until we arrived at a small village. To the center plaza we marched, many of the frightened and confused villagers had gathered there. The legate leading the legion began reading a memoir written by a team of scouts on the horrid atrocities the Hunnic hordes have committed. We needed their support in the fight so they would agree to supply us with the provisions that had been rapidly depleting. Just before he had finished a scout rode into the plaza bloodied and battered he warned us of the Huns and there overwhelmingly large force before finally dying of his injuries. The villagers began to panic and some fled with their belongings. The Legate tried to comfort them telling them we can ensure their safety. We fortified the town built an castra. It was all we could do. Later that evening after I took a small excursion I could see the torches and the yurts atop the craggy mountain. It also became apparent that the terrain advantage they had could not be overcome by our inferior numbers. Evan so the legate informed us we would begin marching on the hill the next morning. I couldn't sleep knowing that death awaited us the at dawn. I went to the mess hall for a hiatus. While there a centurion asked me to take his shift at night watch. I humbly complied.

Tree seedlings, called woodsprites, control the plot and the actions of the Na’vi, propelling the plot when possible, along with the archetypes of the evil figures. Jake was following Neytiri back to her camp, with her telling him to leave the whole time. Suddenly, a bunch of woodsprites landed on Jake, causing Neytiri to let him accompany her to the camp. This propelled the plot forward since it made Jake get allowed into the camp and continue his hero’s journey. Without this happening, Jake wouldn’t have been able to help the Na’vi or even join them in the final battle for their lives. He probably would have ended up being killed by them. Earlier in Avatar, Jake was wandering around in the forest, and Neytiri was preparing to kill him.

The relevant data was brought to him on a tablet soon afterwards, the Replicator informed him it was the Planetary Governors and now it belonged to him. It was more powerful than the others, with this tablet he could access any console or any Ustrian tech he came into contact with, not just tech on the Xerxes. The data pile was immense, it would take him forever and a day to read it. After only a few hours of skimming through it he put it aside and rubbed his eyes, it was starting to give him a headache.

Shadow and James took over and helped by speaking soft words of encouragement to them. Shadow found that if he sang their favorite chant Rae seemed to calm down. James noticed and started in with Shadow.

There was no denying it; the walls of Malwrath were insurmountable to the legion. Even the almighty Zues trembled at the sight of such a city, for even his divine aid could not overcome Cerberus, the monstrous guard of the underworld. The stench of death proliferated from the nearby river canals; Hades, hated by gods and men alike, was at work again, spreading his diseases and suffering like a plague upon his realm.