Freesia: A Narrative Fiction Essay example

The narrator shares this story from his youth in the words of an educated man. His actions as a teen are in stark contrast to his phraseology as an adult. Early in the story, he viewed “nature” as sex, drugs and rock and roll (Boyle 112-113). However, as the story ends and the turmoil subsides, the narrator sees nature for the first time, through the eyes of a person matured by this traumatic experience. The “sun firing buds and opening blossoms” replaced the once revered beer and

“ Yes, I want her in my office in 30 minutes.” I told him as I walked past him. I went to the top floor of the house where my room was and cleaned myself up. The closer I got to meeting the girl the more restless my wolf got. As quickly as I could I got ready to meet the rouge that was brave enough to pass on to my

Strutting through the familiar, gate worn by time, I spread my arms, taking in the saccharine aroma of the fresh grass. The remaining glimmers of the sun glisten on every blade that peeks through the moist soil, composing a sea of sparkling beauty, only comparable to a poem. The meadow is breathtaking this evening, as the sun sets behind the trees in the distance, leaving a glow of pinks, peaches, ambers, and crimsons behind as if a bowl of fruit had exploded in the sky.

The air was crisp and clean, as it was a mild autumn day. Throughout the forest, the sounds of nature could be heard. Birds chirping, leaves falling off trees in the midday breeze. The calm sounds of the woods gave way to a new sound: the gentle humming of a young female wanderer, on a quest to visit her grandmother. She quite enjoyed the sounds and view of the forest, as it was her favorite thing to surround herself with as she was growing up in the village not far from the forest edge. As she strolled through the winding paths of the forest road, she thought of the wonderful experiences of the day ahead with her grandmother.

"So what, your life's just one day of shit-reeking demons after the next? That sucks, dude. No wonder you've got something stuck way up your-" Wynonna's eyes intimated she silently chided herself, even though he looked almost amused. Almost. A hint of a smile that could've actually just been a trick of shadows. Feeling him trying to size her up, Wynonna almost felt a little frenzy of insecurity. Everyone in town's mind was pretty much made up about her, no one had freshly judged her in a long time, and she wasn't sure she missed the feeling. She'd been trying her best with the curse, with Revenants, even to be a better sister, and it was uncomfortable to have someone stride in the middle of all that trying and try to put those jagged pieces

After her morning bath she began her daily schedule. She sped through meetings about upcoming events and began her daily excursion through her garden. Until recently, the gardens were her only safe haven from the life of royalty. Quickly after her parents discovered this secret garden they made it open to the public. Nobility began to ravage her only quiet spot, leaving her to find another.

The Judge had inexplicably vanished, however the Beadle stood waiting with his arm outstretched. The Beadle calls on her, all polite, Poor thing, poor thing. The Judge, he tells her, is all contrite, He blames himself for her dreadful plight. She must come straight to his house tonight! Poor thing, poor thing. Dejectedly, Lucy walked towards the Beadle. There were no longer tears in her eyes, but it couldn't of been clearer that she wished she was anywhere but there. With one last glance at the shop, Lucy allowed the Beadle to lead her along an exclusive street of dark, stone mansions. They were grand, but somehow menacing. In time they reached what was undoubtedly the grandest and most menacing mansion in the entire city, Judge Turpin's. The Beadle ushered Lucy inside, Lucy was not keen on entering the house of the Judge. Of course, when she goes there, Poor thing, poor thing. They're having this ball all in masks. Dozens of masked couples swirled around the ballroom, their numbers sinisterly multiplied by the distorting mirrors that framed the room. The hanging chandeliers were draped

The verge of summer was upon the land and everywhere I looked, there were flowering vines and trees. The mixture of white dogwood blossoms and the lavender clusters of wisteria were pleasing to the eye and complimented one another well- the scent drifting through the window was heavenly. The long drive left me with nothing other than my thoughts to occupy me- my thoughts tended to be dark and heavy of late. The night of the Promenade du Boeuf Gras and the succubus haunted my thoughts. I knew that was what she had to be; she nearly tore me to shreds with her fierce

The looking glass that I stared passionately into reflected youthful spirits with bright little eyes and smile stained lips; four chubby-cheeked faces bursted with liquid sunshine from within just like the shimmers which sauntered across the black surface as if light itself could be blown by the wind. The trees which encompassed the lake stood mute in the summer air, they casted shadows, a soft blanket over the quentiestial lake. Delicate rays of light shone through the coniferous trees and mingled with tall tea trees, reached the marshy edges of the lake then climbed up the mountainous hill. They left one small palm tree standing out. The petite tree lifted his pointy leaves to the sky as if his very presence was enough to beat back the darkness

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.

Gwen spun on her heels and continued her hurried gait toward the dungeons, Fredrick not far behind, and nothing left to say. At least nothing that she would listen to right now. They were at the stairs that led to the cells below in no time and not breaking her stride, Gwen hiked up her skirt so far that she bared more ankle and calf that would send some eyebrows skyward. In fact, she tucked the fabric and a kerchief into her bodice so that her legs were free from obstruction even when she was on the ground floor and winding her way through the maze of crowded cells until she stood before

Not gentle, not loving, not stern or cold. He hoped this wasn't what he thought; he prayed to every god he couldn't think of that she was just shy, just startled and defensive. Wild, inky curls bobbed as she peered up at him, familiar grey eyes stark against skin the color of dark chocolate. He'd seen her around camp—a confident but quiet girl who worshiped the ground her cabin councilor walked on and played strategy games til she dropped bone tired. A daughter of Athena. "He's gone, you know. You don't have to be so afraid."

Mother loved watching the tree as the rays of the sun would shine through the leaves, giving the world a warm, green glow. It was even more beautiful when it would slowly turn orange and red in the fall and tumble to the ground where a little girl with long brown braids and jean overalls and her mother would rake them up in piles and spend hours laughing and playing. Squirrels darted to and from the hordes of acorns they collected from the trees in the yard, and woodpeckers hammered at old oaks in the woods. When spring came around the yard was a beautiful home to many new baby animals. And spring was a great time for picnics. Mom ‘s heart was stirred as she recollected all the picnics she had shared with her family under

I sat near the window as a pop of orange then a strand of yellow started to appear. They gradually wove together in intricate patterns leaving a trail of light behind for the sun. The concoction of colours slowly revealed the barren world filled with nothing but white snow, sprinkled on its landscape. The sun followed pursuit of the blend of colours as it began its journey to the skies. Its rays penetrated through the windows bringing warmth that seeps into me along with the cold, frigid air of the Canadian winter. I would stay still to admire the view until the trance was broken by the familiar pressure of the student’s feet on my back.

The daylight crept grudgingly from behind the hills, like a mother that delays awakening her children to enjoy their peaceful slumber for another second. The whitethorn tree lost its glow, and the dancing aos si began to vanish beneath the first sunrays.