Short Story : ' Into The Deadening Mist '

“The gentle green hills which on either hand enclosed the village, tufted here and there with magnificent trees, the village itself, straggling and wide, each cottage being far apart from its neighbors and each ornamented with flower beds and shrubberies; these with a lovely stream which would through the valley, formed, as far as my memory may be trusted, one of the most exquisite panoramas, on which it has ever been my good fortune to

glamour, and fortune. He is an uncommonly great warrior and has performed many heroic feats.

The enchanted forest pulsed in, it’s ancient heartbeat, the deep, haunting song sweeping through the swaying leaves. The woody incense of thousands of leaves and branches matting the forest floor filled the air and dominated our nostrils. Soon, the branches will bend to the will of the whispering wind, allowing the sun to fill every nook and cranny with its the lustrous, golden light, illuminating the full grandeur of a forest that is steeped in plushness and opulence. But for now, the sprawling limbs of centuries-old trees still guarded the darkness, blotting out most of the gentle rays of dawn’s light.

Deep in the Alps lies a small town called Clay. The sun was rising over a frosty blue mountain, and drops of dew dripped down from the leaves in the valley. Arthur awoke to find his bedroom filled with light. He went downstairs and drank a glass of water, not hungry enough for food. Arthur went outside into the chilly morning and started walking down the road. The road was lined with hundreds of huge alpine trees. A large flock of birds flew over Arthur’s head in the sky.

Section 5: I chose a “musical” sword as my symbol of strength. I chose a sword because a good sword in the Medieval times could be used to show your worthiness as an opponent, and the point of a symbol of strength on your coat of arms was meant to show your worthiness as an opponent. I made the hilt red to show the militant purpose that the sword served.The sword is musical to show another one of my areas of strength. I did this by drawing viola/violin f-holes to both sides of the blade. I also added a piano design to the sword’s cross guard. These two instruments were chosen because they are the most recognizable instruments. They were also the instruments I first learned to play.

The sun was glistening through the tall, swaying pines. To the right of the trail, a gentle river flowed softly down towards the mouth of the lake. Walking across the rickety wooden bridge, I inhaled a deep breath of refreshingly crisp mountain air. The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the bridge and back onto the well-used hiking trail. The ambient sounds of chirping birds, babbling water, and the croaks of several frogs filled my ears as I made my way around the bend. As I entered the mouth of the forest, I could see my father standing in the middle of the path, glancing upwards, taking in the beauty that had began to engulf us. “We better get going.” he said, looking back at me. “There’s still many miles to go.” I smiled and turned, taking in one last view of the beautiful creekside. Then, with determination, we set out to finish the challenging trek we had started.

the wagons were long gone. Some men went to try to get help but they got

In the “Symposium“, respondents argued that Karl Seidl, is asking Simon Wiesenthal to forgive him, but who is Wiesenthal in Seidl’s eye? Mary Gordon stated Karl is “ wrong to ask one man to serve as a public symbol to all Jews” , and Rebecca Goldstein thinks that Nazis, such as Seidl, think of a Jew, as a “mass term” such as water or salt. (The Sunflower 148-153) Karl Seidl asking Simon

He understands that this is a trial which he must face and he has made up his mind to do all that is in his power to make it back to

Into the back of his head and neck. Christoph manages to escape their grasp and stabs one of the guards in the neck with Riedel's old knife he took from his corpse he then pins the other guard and stabs the crystals in the guards neck and head now with a soldier following his every command they overthrow the leader now in control of the leader of a whole army he slowly brought more men into the throne room to ambush and then reprogram. Eventually having the whole army under his control. Now at the helm of a civilization Christoph commands his army to the surface where he uses his army and technology and newly made weapons to take over all of Asia and Europe reprogramming more people into his vast army. One could say he became what he destroyed but that would be wrong he was always like this as a soldier killing,surviving,taking and oppressing. Disgusted by what the world had become he took it all over and then visited every nation and ordered them all too kill themselves leaving only a select few villages to inherit the world hoping humanity had learned it’s

“How am I, someone who buckles under the weight of armor, supposed to go on this journey to the foreign land?” In disbelief, Minimus refused. However, the advisor warned him,“ If your father doesn’t get the herb by the end of the year, he will surely die. You are the only one that is capable of returning from this journey alive. If you don’t go, your brothers will not hesitate and will meet their end. Think of this as atonement for your sin and save your father.” Minimus, convinced by these words, agreed to set out on the fateful journey that would either change his life for the better or turn it into a

The actions on display here are portrayed in an honorable light thus making them seem as though they are something that every citizen of Anglo-Saxon society should aspire to. In a way these actions are displayed as propaganda, obviously if this is the case this is a certain behavior the society of the time wants to encourage. Here he is displayed almost as the ideal warrior and an ideal all other warriors should look up

I gazed up at the mountain now drenched in light red and squinted, trying to keep my eyes open, as the bright sharp light burnt into my eyes. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I finally closed them unable to the pain any longer; I wiped my watery eyes and thought where Samneric’s fire was? There was a rumble inside me, and I looked hopefully at the jungle wondering if I could find Samneric’s fire as well as something to eat. In the morning light the jungle seemed like an old and tattered rug chewed to bits by moths, yet despite this the jungle and the whole island was beautiful shining in the sun’s warmth. I kept on walking as the jungle beckoned me calling me with its beauty. As I passed between the trees, the canopy overhead plunged me into velvet darkness. The only source of light was from the small gaps in the shell of overlapping leaves, where the sun glistened through. Moss and lichen covered the ground in abundance, thriving in this humid atmosphere, and feeding on the eerie green light that managed to penetrate through the ceiling of emerald leaves. The strange green shade and the various knotted pillars made it impossible to see for great distances or to walk about freely.

Resting underneath the shade of the trees, I found myself appreciating the scent of pine needles; the ambiance of Christmas. Encompassed by the thick heavy air, I watched as a single sparrow fluttered high above the emerald forest. A few feet next to me an eager chipmunk hastily scampered from tree to tree, awaiting the chill of winter. The forest, I realized, was home to many wild creatures. In giving protection and food, the forest was gladly rewarded with the company of these animals. Beyond the horizon, I could see the community of newly formed saplings. They appeared as little children, learning under the guidance of their grown and fully matured parents.

“Behemoth!” I screamed, overjoyed, causing a few people to turn their heads, “Finally, it’s coming out! I can’t wait!” My father and I have always shown substantial interest in book series. One of which was the Bowl Of Souls series. Until recently, I would have never compared anyone in my family to a book character. One day, I was brainstorming and commenced to realize how similar my father is to Sir Hilt, a named warrior from the Bowl of Souls series. Author, Trevor H. Cooley implied that Sir Hilt was quick-witted and how willing he is to assist people. In many ways my father is similar to Sir Hilt; weather it be mental/physical strength, impact they have on others, or the admiration and loyalty to those around them.