Creative Writing: Gwen's Narrative Fiction

His mouth tightened. There were days he’d pled for her silence and now that he had it, he felt betrayed. Dammit, she had no right to impose on him any further. “I’ll see to the horses and string a windbreak.”

" Only helping me confirm the almost sibling like bickering and distain the two help for each other. And yet through all that Claudette still felt a twinge of guilt for betraying her

“You can, you can come back,” Anna pleaded, sounding defiant, as if she believed hard enough, she could will it to happen. “I’m sure they’re fine, I’ve come back from worse than what they took that night.”

Chica has a way of talking, Bonnie thinks, that makes everyone around stop and listen. Everything about her voice mesmerizes him: the lilts and lows of her voice that give everything she says a quality similar to Beethoven -- the way her lips curve around soft words and her teeth bear around the ones that get stuck in her throat -- the way she looks deep into his eyes to make sure he's understanding.

As Jack drove through the streets of outer city Melbourne, he couldn’t help but notice that Phryne had barely said a word since pulling away from the Stanton Manor. He couldn’t be sure as to what was plaguing her, but he inferred that it would either be about Lord Stanton hiding something from them, as Jack was thinking or was concerned about her daughters. Jack glanced over to Phryne and he felt like he needed to do something. He wanted to reach across the invisible boundary and take her hand in his. He knew it wasn’t much in the mind of comfort, but he knew that sometimes a held hand was all that was needed.

Looking back no one truly knew when the world had begun to change. The once blue sky was now a grotesques grey, the sun no longer shined bright in the sky, nor did the cotton clouds float freely through the sky. The air was barely breathable as many of the forest trees had either died out from pollution or had been cut down to provide the ever growing population within the past century. The life of luxury meant having air filters circulating though out the house making breathing much easier for those who could afford it.

Maela hadn’t spent two minutes in the the tunnel to freedom when she had strongly considered turning back. Each stop brought her closer to otherworldly wailing that got louder with each step.

“I forgive you as well. You no longer need to carry the guilt about banishing me. Banishment was difficult, but I learned a good deal during my time away. And in the end, we found our way back to one another, and that’s all that matters.” Guinevere squeezed Arthur’s hand. “And there’s something else. I never loved Lancelot. I was infatuated with him, yes, but it was nothing like the love I feel for you. I don’t know why I kissed him; I still can’t explain it. All I know is when I did it, I didn’t

Kara stared at the king as he finished his speech, amazed she'd been given a final chance at a reprieve rather than being led straight to the gallows. She knew then that Mordred was right about this man… saddened by the realization that Arthur had a truly merciful heart, quite unlike the monster Morgana had painted him out to be.

husband, she found herself taken a fancy to the young knight, Lancelot. She admired his broken face and found herself falling in love. She loved both Lance and Arthur. She felt

Queen Guinevere was turning out to be a clever and compassionate ruler, and Merlin was happy for her but...

Some days, it makes him sad that she will never know he achieved his dream. When they were younger, his sister had wanted to be known as a heroic knight, and he a magical hero. They would have been quite a duo, and become famous throughout the lands. That’s a future he will only have in the better dreams now. He's still going to become a hero of sorts, and it hurts more then he will admit that no one will think of him as

“It’s time to forget Guinevere. Time to be a man and move on, not behave like some jilted woman,” he admonished himself. And when had he begun talking to himself in the dark like a madman? Pathetic.

Weird. Amusing. Odd. These words would describe my best friend. Emma Perkins is one of my best friends. She seems to be always there when I do something stupid or dangerous. She could as well be the cause. One night, an idea had struck me. This would not end well for me or for those who I would choose to involve.

The sorcerer watched silently as the princess approached him, glancing to her father and brother's with cautious eyes. He didn't need anyone trying to be a hero today. Viktor wasn't here because he desired to be, but Princess Gwendolyn was a prize too important to be left to underlings. The dark markings on his face seemed to shiver with anticipation as the princess walked towards him, his gaze turning to her as Viktor was finally allowed a chance to look upon the woman that had been promised to him. Princess Gwendolyn was indeed a beautiful woman, that he had been able to discern from his arrival, but actually being able to see her now, in all her royal splendor...a sure prize for any man lucky enough to earn her hand.