Description Of The Profectus

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

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

The tickling sensation of heat bathing his face forced him to slowly open his eyes. The sun’s golden rays stunned him blurring his vision as he quickly turned away. As his eyes adjusted, he was surprised to find the absence of his father. His heart started to pound and all the confidence and security that he had built up melted in the space of a few seconds. He jumped up flinging his sleeping bag on to the ground and looked around taking note of his surroundings. To him, it felt as if the trees were suddenly sent out to attack him like stealthy assassins gaining on him as they moved side to side from the winds steady breeze. The faint noise of bugs and animals chattering sounded like the grunt of a predator before it hunts its prey. A colossal cloud

Before they had even gotten off from the bus they experienced a gang fight and saw the Thought Police take them away. The area was all gray, dark, and there was no greenery. “A gray street. Gray buildings. A gray and drizzling sky.

This helps the reader use one of his five senses, sight, through the use of imagery in the diction. The father’s room is described as if the father is lonely and isolated, as if he is devoted to his job and is a full time butler. The author

When we went inside the spiral white wood staircase had fool’s gold railing. In the kitchen there was a table with 4 twine wrapped legs, and a wood stove with a chimney. In the living room there was 3 small chair couches and another chimney but this time with a fireplace. When we went upstairs there were 2 bedrooms, another living room with 4 couches this time and another fireplace. In my bedroom there was a big dresser with plenty of space, and there was a window, with a window screen, and glass! The bed was big and luxurious. And John’s bed was smaller but luxurious. His room was pretty much like mine, except mine had a fireplace with a chimney.

The wind is harsh and piercing as the gusts reach up to 50 mph. Even layers upon layers of clothing do very little to protect people from the harshness of the cold unrelenting wind. The snow on the ground would blind them as they trekked across the barren wastelands of snow and wind. As they all began to peal back their layers of masks to speak, the pain of the fierce wind immediately ran across their faces. It felt as if a stroke of lightning had ran across their faces and down their throats with every breath of the icy wind. Each one speaks with the same raspy bark from the brutal cold ravaging their vocal chords. The wind laced its way through their clothes like it was not even there and chilled them all to the bones.

He looked up at the boy who has spoken to him in confusion. He was dark skinned, and his hair was cropped short in a buzz

Crumpled newspapers scattered the table like the bones of dead bodies after war. Windows wiped down of memories huddled between oak frames, facing a street with cosy cottages. Single embroidered carpets hugged the floor, covering the marble tiles in delicate silk. A whisper of wind floated in through cracks of the panes of glass, whispering it's songs of misery throughout the house. I breathed in gulps of air, allowing the icy coolness to fill my lungs, and the morning frost creep out. My glistening blue eyes presented purple bags, and my sleek hair was a tangled cobweb. My feet dragged along the stone floor like the walking of the undead. I’d been up all night, searching and seeking for answers.

For once, she wandered toward him with no children in tow. Today, she wore no linen coif, and her elbow-length, blond hair hung down loose. Percival had not realized how thick and glossy it was. And instead of wearing her typical nanny uniform of a stiff beige tunic dress, she wore a pale blue dress, more fitted at the top, and cinched at the waist with dark leather girdle belt. The belt accentuated the curve of her hips, and he color of her dress brought out the light honey color in her eyes. She was even more beautiful than he recalled, and in that instant, her presence was the balm he needed to soothe his agitated soul. He realized that he’d had but one brief interaction with her earlier in the day, yet her presence was exactly what he needed.

A single beam of light shone thru the curtain. The specs of dust in the room danced between the rays, whisked into the air by the pleasant breeze tip toeing thru the screen door. I could feel the warmth on my cheek as I rose from the sheets, thoroughly rested. I briskly got ready, slipping on my tennis shoes, old and worn. Stepping outside, I was greeted by the painfully sweet aroma of sweet pea flowers, entranced by the blissful gleams of sunlight, and spellbound by the familiar screeching of parrots, flocking in clouds of bright vermilion.

The day was gloomier than I thought it would be. The air was humid as if it had just rained for days and you could feel the thickness in it. Past the trees of the nearby woods, thick, and gray fog lined the ground,

     The story starts out with the description of a grey fog over the place where the story is set. The significance of this is to set the mood of the story. It also is a possible representation of how the main character

Through the use of juxtaposition, the author attempts to represent the complexity of the human mind. The story takes place at an old mansion in a secluded part of town, surrounded by a “delicious garden” (Perkins 130). The narrator describes the home to have been “long untenanted” (Perkins 129) and have a haunted appearance, which leads to create the image of a shabby-looking establishment. Such juxtaposing qualities of the setting could be said to represent the narrator’s own mind; the garden symbolizing freedom and happiness and the house symbolizing her neglected mental

He landed his arms and hands onto the top of the desk and bent over it heavily, without glancing at me. He seemed too weak for the ability to speak and I asked as few questions as I could for his purpose. His hair, which resembled the ebony of a dark oak tree swung low across his face from the perspective of him that I had. I stood silently nearer the door than he but also closer to the man than the door, about more than in the middle, here I spoke. “Would you not be more comfortable on a couch, to cushion and rest your body, Sir?” his appearance when he spoke was rather brusque but his voice of a measured gentleness. “Thank you madam, I do envy the couch for its comfort if, of course I am of no ill-will bother to you nor your furniture”.