I 'm For An Early Night

That sudden burst of noise caught the man by surprise; I told him I know who you are then he said, “I know you do” I said; you’re that one guy…. Shilew of the Rain. I know the man because he came to my folk’s house when I was younger; you came by because you had some sort of business with them I don’t know how you came to know the famous underground crime

“And now dear, it is time for bed. Charlotte will show you up to your dormitory, won’t you Charlotte?” smiled Auntie Cockles, before giving Charlotte such a stare, that she at once stood up and began to lead the way.

Along in with the author’s use of metaphors is the frequent use of imagery. In this reading, it is simple to envision the scenes as the different scenarios are explained and the audience can easily picture Staples in the places he is describing and also the people he comes across. Perhaps the most powerful and memorable imagery is provided in the author’s description of people’s different reactions and faces when they come into contact with him. Actions speak volumes and an immediate change of facial expression is possibly one of the

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

There was an hour maybe two before sunset and the end to a day of hard work. He had spent most of the day packing and repacking his own wagon in preparation of tomorrow’s departure. The wagon he was currently using belonged to the inn. It wasn’t easy trying to

Flicked, short motion of his thumb against his forefinger, that piece of filth she had missed from the table, uncaring as to which surface it was to sail to next- dispassionate gaze barely lifting from the table top long enough to assure that she had observed him doing so. Correcting that which she had been asked to do, to fix. Personal objects, dirt, and all manner of other he didn't want to examine too closely littering the surfaces of this apartment that he had followed her back to- serpentine gestures and back alleyway paths as if she could shake off whatever shadow it was she felt no doubt trickling down the edge of her spine. Was a creature bathed in deception and suspicion, shouldn't have at all been surprised that it was such

Uneven in shape, his derby cap rests upon his head at a point, only identified by his distinct suspenders and coat. Air lightens his loose jeans, which appear to fix like an inflatable bunch at his lower legs, where his larger than usual shoes oblige his feet to point outward, making him waddle when he strolls. Adjusting himself, he conveys a bamboo stick that holds his stance. Looking as if the once sweet life cruised him by, his clothing is worn out and his eyes dim, however, his mustache is short and trimmed, and his air is consistently polite. But, his high conduct is hitched with a freed feeling of opportunity and severance, dislodging him as an outcast dependent just on his most human impulses.

It had taken some rearranging, but the Payne’s were going to have to share a room, with each of her sisters and their husband bedding in one of the girl’s double beds. Pa grumbled the most when he was sent out to the shed to share the space with his sons, who had been carried there earlier. Alma sensibly pointed out that the senior Paynes couldn’t be expected to sleep in the shed and Ma’s bed had taken over the parlor. Still, he took some persuading to go back out into the pounding rain and race to the barn. Finally, Alma propped her legs on the edge of the bed and slept the night away in the bedside rocker. The day had been long and hard and she was exhausted. She had planned to sit through the night with Ma anyway. But if Ma stirred, she didn’t call enough to wake

Once we get the horses in Rowans stable and get them brushed off and fed we head inside. Rowan offers us food and drinks but I give my apologies and ask where I am supposed to sleep. When he shows me where I am to sleep I bid him goodnight and fall into a deep slumber that I have missed greatly and will come to miss in the near future.

“What?” he barked as he finally turned towards her. As he loomed over her, standing at the foot of their bed, buried in his cellphone, she got her first good look at him for the day. She took in his ragged demeanor; his dirty worn out clothes too large for his scrawny frame. Through a tear in his pants she could see a cut on his leg, no doubt attained by begging on the streets of St. Louis. She never saw him do it anymore but there was no doubt in her mind that he had kept that habit, among others. His disheveled black hair was covered by a grimy nondescript

They woke at the edge of the woods close to the village. Prue woke first and started shaking Jane and Elizabeth to wake them. They woke up, oblivious to where they were and how they got there. The girls got up and they were starting to walk back to the village because they knew they were going to be punished for not coming home. Jane was sick to her stomach, Elizabeth was short of breath, and Audrey was calm and collected. Prue stopped the two girls and made them promise to say that they were possessed by the Devil and also to declare they saw

After an afternoon cocktail party, a Latin man named Camilo escorts her to the subway station through the rain. Camilo makes several gracious gestures to try and pay for her, but she refuses, as she is afraid he may fall on the rainy steps when returning. She states that he made an effort to small courtesies but ignored "the larger and more troublesome ones." Here we

In Macbeth, the scene “The Knocking at the Gate” is debated whether the Porter’s common references to the devil and his annoyance with the equivocator have a dramatic effect on the story, or if his drunkenness adds comic relief after the death of Duncan.

The time was midnight and the weather was unbearable. The dirt roads had become frozen shadows of the night, making it hard for anyone to see anything. Nay one was out, most were either sleeping or stuffed into the tavern, drinking, and gambling. Nay one 's dumb enough to be outside during this night, nay one but me. From a distance, I hear a piano being played inside the tavern, just barely audible due to the sounds o ' the snow storm. I eased closer to the tavern, desperate to get some warmth and perchance a meal that doesn 't taste like crap. Nay one noticed as I entered, they were too busy drinking and gambling or both. Always too busy to notice.