Nevermore Ding dong echoed vigorously through a miniscule village encompassed with hundreds of pounds of snow, trudging among its thin gravel roads, in front of its surrounding rustic, fragile homes, and around its arched, stone architecture that loomed across the center. The sound vibrated from a glimmering, porcelain, steel clock tower settled southeast of the neighborhood, its hands closed on a bold number twelve painted delicately above the pendulum. This curved, bulky pendulum then accelerated a swift swinging motion that quivered the enclosed town into deep silence. As soon as this thunderous rumble was emitted, narrow figures hastily dimmed lofty street lamps, and the low crunch of footsteps through thick snow suddenly diminished. The …show more content…
Wh-why’d you co-come here?” Leonard then sat in the other swing, arching at an obtuse angle. “It gets boring real fast.” He began to wheeze. “It’s also painful after a while. Don’t know if you’d understand. I mean, you don’t like football, do you?” While I was peering through my book previously, this inquiry suddenly heightened my interest in the conversation. “I actually really like the game. See,” I pulled a football strategy guide from my coat’s left pocket, “I just don’t like the noise.” “What’s that book you’ve got there?” Leonard asked. I passed him the novel. Hastily flipping through the worn pages, he grinned from ear to ear. “Haven’t read this one in awhile. It’s always been a favorite, though,” he exclaimed. We then discussed the book, from its humor that drove us to deep chuckles to its horror tales that provided us with insomnia for days. We perpetuated our conversation, which ranged on topics from tennis to art, until the sun faded down toward the sky’s metamorphosis into blurred, warm tints of crimson and orange. “Nice meeting ya, Dante. You know, you’re welcome at my house any time.” I shuddered upon hearing this invitation, my face turning pale and hairs on my neck standing like acupuncture
“[I miss it], I really do, but as I said we will be entering into a new group of people, who do things differently. I still go to the games, which is the main thing for me – I just don’t sit in The Burrow anymore.”
“Fine, but I still don’t understand how this game is going to make me feel better.” I grudgingly sighed.
“ You know, if I knew as little about a football as you obviously do, I’d be ashamed to admit it. It’s no wonder you’ve never won a state
Since we play college. Do you want to ask Mike Matheny if he can watch us play just 1 game?”
“Fine, but only this time, the last time. I swear, and if we don’t win, I’m done for
“For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection on her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened - then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.”
He’d read it before, but it was still a good, solid read, easy to while the time away with. By now it was just gone half-six in the evening. His plan was to get a quiet table, eat dinner slowly, have a couple of drinks in the bar, read his book the entire time, and hopefully he’d be in a fit state to sleep fitfully for a change. He made sure he had his room key in his pants pocket, checked he had his Blackberry in his other pants pocket, pulled himself back into his suit jacket, then walked out of his room, pausing only to make sure his door had closed
Bella creaked the door open. Inside there was what looked like a library...but with empty shelves, all except one, On the one shelf, the one book, was glimmering mysteriously. She walked toward the book and picked it up. As soon as she did, she heard a whisper.
“No. I love football, but flag football is much safer because you don’t get tackled! I-I can do ballet in the summer, spring, and fall, and flag football with all my friends in the winter time! It’s a perfect schedule. Please, please let me do this!
She walks to the centermost oak tree near Mason Hall, she finally has found the perfect shady spot on an 80-degree day. She passes the boy from her Psychology class and gives him a small smile. She’s taking a journey to a jungle she doesn’t normally observe, a place where many humans and animals inhabit. There isn’t a breeze and the air feels drier than usual. The Diag seems unfriendly today, as she sits down she’s nervous of her surroundings. She plants herself on a somewhat clean patch of grass and pulls out her shiny laptop. She is reading “Werner Herzog’s Conquest of the Useless” for her freshman English class. As she dives her way into the reading she starts to think about where she is, what is going on around her, and the journey that she is on. A bushy red squirrel approaches her, she’s confused why it’s coming so close and quickly gets up to escape its presence. “Why in the world is this squirrel so close to me” she thinks to herself. The girl moves from the tree but as she get up she starts to notice specific details she hasn’t before.
“I just figured that if we played a game, it would take your mind off of it.”
“How long has it been since I’ve felt like this?” I wondered as I walked along the greenish-gray pond. My back baked in the radiating light of the sun while I pondered on about the life I lived leading up to this serene moment.There was a hectic crowded rummaging about, everyone filled with astonishment, boredom, irritation, and exhaustion. Despite all of this everything was in a calm silence. Hordes of people, but I still felt alone.
An unsettling evening wind started to blow its way through the Central Park. The sun began to set, sending a cascade of colors streaming through the evening sky. The day had started with the normal chaos that a normal Friday had encompassed. John was having difficulty finishing the last piece of business for that day, his mind kept day dreaming towards his lovely wife and wonderful children. As he set in his chair completely exhausted in his tattered office listening to the clock that was ticking in the background, and it approached the wishful hour of five o’clock.
He glanced out of the window, watching the sky turning from a deep blue shade to a clear, blue, breezy morning. ‘A good day.’ He made a mental note to himself. The sun baked through the curtains, sharpening his enormous shadow. He thought of that fussy factory owner and sighed.
“Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I'm very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that.”