A Story Of A Short Story

"She did not take the broad, beaten road which led to the far-off plantation at Valmonde. She walked across a deserted field, where the stubble bruised her tender feet, so delicately shod, and tore her thin gown to shreds. She disappeared among the reeds and willows that grew thick along the banks of the deep, sluggish

Amidst the journey of the last woman executed in Iceland is the ‘nature [that] is watchful of all of us.’ Kent parallels the protagonist Agnes’ story alongside the force of the harsh Icelandic climate and country that ‘is as awake as you and I’ and often determines key events in the novel. The ominous foreshadowing of death represented in elements of the landscape highlights how the country is an essential aspect of the novel, often adding to the dramatic effect. Agnes’ road to spiritual redemption, both religion based and personal, is greatly influenced by the natural occurrences of the country. Ultimately, the harsh Icelandic conditions impact the lives

It was at the peak of the night’s darkness, fog covered the kingdom. The town was fast asleep, the King and his thanes were also out cold. There was an eerie sense in the air. It had almost been too long without any commotion. The kingdom, at the top of the Food chain, hadn’t been attacked for nearly two years now.

The night’s sky was a foreboding glow, displaying the remnants of the chaos that proceeded on that very night. The air was calm and still, leaving no trace of the strong, mighty wind that had once seized it. Seeker Gawin and Annabelle emerge from the Great Fall forest, heading in the direction of the marketplace of the Masonburge Village with a bewildered first commander, who was heading back to the castle, passing them with his men riding a few feet behind. The people of the village have gathered in a somber mood, watching the last of the king’s men carry away bodies on one of their horses.

She retraces the mountain of her ancestry every single day quietly. In the wind she can smell the scent of her ancestors made from crushed pale blue leaves of the mountain. The smell is coming from up the mountain side from which her ancestors descended from, where the mountain lion laid down and ate their deer. It is better to be where she once came from, where her ancestors came from, up on that mountain watching nature. The elderly that remember it once are all gone, the old songs of ancestors are forgotten, and the story where it all began died with its memory. The memory of the culture dances in the snow frost moonlight, swam in the freezing mountain water, went through the

She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.

Andrea sat in the break room, waiting for her shift to start at 8:30, her long, crisp black hair covered the back of the seat. Andrea had her face deep into paperwork but, then noticed Mary walked into the room and looked up, took off her glasses and wiped her forehead. Andrea’s porcelain skin, looked like it has barely seen any sunlight, or even touched. Mary and Andrea had most of the day piled up in paperwork, except for their breaks. At lunchtime, Mary added to her stories of sleepwalking into the forest, including the one early in the morning.

Ann, a sprightly women with blonde hair in pitch black attire roamed over Pontypridd, a mining village. She was seen smoking and bawling everyone ‘darling’. She told the people about her escape from her husband after he pummeled her. According to Ann, a woman helped her in rehousing in a council flat and gave her life a new start.

She slowly lifted her vision from the ground up towards the view of the forest. As she moved her head from side to side she looked in wonder at her surroundings. All she could see expanding right in front of her eyes was a beautiful crystal clear water hole with waterfalls rushing in from either side. Behind this amazing waterhole towards the right there was yet another exit out of the forest, although this one seemed different … it lead towards her street that she last remembered living on. Annabel seemed very relieved to see this exit but there was something that seemed to stop her walking out into her freedom. The thought of leaving the forest meant she would say goodbye to her parents for good. Annabel couldn’t bear to do this; she couldn’t live with herself if she knew there was something else she could do that might reunite her with her

Her breath shown in the cold moist air of the lake side. She quickened her pace, dashing from one underbrush to the next, twigs and branches scratching at her face as if begging for her to take them away with her from this wretched land, her breathing became increasingly vigorous. Her limbs grew heavy as more and more mud started to cling to her boots as if also wanting to go with her and the distance she had to cover seemed to become more and more. She started to think she couldn’t go on anymore, except for one reason and one reason only. The warm infant wrapped in blankets and cloth started to become heavier and heavier in her arms as she felt her body starting to fail her. But she couldn’t stop she had to get her baby to safety. As the sound of dogs barking and the hooves of horses and the screams of soldiers yelling,” She went this way!” “No this way!” The ever growing thought of are they going to find me, did I do all this just to get

Running into the woods Sarah’s eyes fell on familiar sights. Trees she had climbed as a little girl, old trails her father had made, the old stream she loved to sit by and read poetry. Sweet, delicate memories flowed into her mind like warm, caressing fingers attached from loving angels, as Todd pulled her deeper into the woods. The world outside the community is exciting…but this is my home,” Sarah thought as Todd hurried slowed down to help her step over a fallen log

Katherine stood at the edge of her yard, staring at the crashing waves just beyond. The salty wind brushed her face gently, inviting her to breathe deeply of its scents and calmness. Reaching a hand up, she plucked the pins from her hair, using her fingers to brush through the auburn curls. She hated wearing her hair up all the time; it made her head sore. To avoid attracting any undue attention, she put it up like the rest of the village women. To be considered modest. everything must be covered. Kat thought it was a silly rule, like so many others among the Puritan women. Those rules, and the looks that she received from the villagers, were some of the main reasons she chose a home farther away.

The door shut behind him and Georgaina walked down the steep, grassy hill. She was near the bottom when a pain, familiar to her, ripped through her abdomen like a dull, serrated knife. She collapsed, gasping for breath and clutching her stomach. Slowly, after what felt to her like hours, the pain went from a sharp knife to a dull ache. Tears had filled her eyes and she blinked them back as she stood cautiously, not trusting her own legs. She took a deep breath, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, determined to get to the forest that lay around the hill. Her head pounded, but she figured she would worry about it

She decided to look down for the rest of the walk after getting glared at by a passerby. As she was watching her feet and skipping over the cracks in the pavement, something had yanked the back of her jacket. Whipping around, Becca saw a shambled family. They were tan and soaking wet; their cardboard home shaped the background of the frightening portrait Becca was faced with. A wave of angry words, desperate words confronted her, echoing without meaning her mind. The mother of the two children fell to her knees weeping, pleading for something Becca would never exactly know. The daughter, the girl Becca realized pulled her jacket, stared at her. Dark chocolate colored eyes were melting with the heat of her pain and her brittle lips smoked with the speed of her pleading words. Becca was being pulled away unknowingly when she heard a familiar rumble coming from the pit of the girl’s stomach. And just as soon as the encounter had happened, it was over. Concern replaced the sound of desperation and she let her family know she was fine. She went back to looking at her feet. In a couple of minutes, Becca’s family arrived at the

Summary: In the way north by the Arctic Sea live the People Who Fear the Winter Night. One of these people is a young girl named Teune, an amazing robe maker. One night, during a blizzard, the sparks from Teune’s fire sets the Blizzard’s robe on fire. The People Who Fear the Winter Night rejoiced because that the Blizzard is no longer a threat, but Teune is filled with sorrow. In a dream the Blizzard comes to Teune and ask her to make a new robe with the promise of gift for her and her people. After making the robe Teune and her people are given the gift of the Northern Lights and no longer need to fear the winter night. These people are now known as the People of the Northern Lights.