Stupid Monsters Creative Writing

I wander through the misty woods, pushing brambles to the sides with one hand as I guard my Canon camera with the other. I stop as come a small stream, I flip my bag to the front of me and reach into my backpack. “It has be in here somewhere.” I mumble to no one as my hands move around the items in my unorganized bag. I finally pull out my instructions on how to get to the abandon house that I had written down from the internet earlier. I shove the wrinkled paper back into my bag and cross the river then turn left. Twenty minutes later I appear at an old broken gate with a slightly sinking house behind two pine trees. My eyes dart quickly to the rusting No Trespassing sign and back again to the broken gate. I carefully lift the gate above the

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

He is tall, his face white, and hair dark as coal. His eyes are tiny and mischievous but see everything with deep dark circles underneath them. Two small nostrils lay on his face.A horrible largemouth, two sets of jagged teeth, both at the top and bottom, all aligned by pale thin lips. At the top of his head lays a black top hat, where he tries to cover his devil horns. He fails to cover them as they stick up on top of his top hat. Dirty jet-black hair stick out from underneath. A big black coat that drags all the way to his claw like feet cover his body, in attempt to look more human. The arms lay low on him down below his knees. His other claws are at the end of the sleeves. With that it makes it easier for him to reach you, even

Sunshine was pouring out from in between the buildings, casting shadows all around Ponyboy and the gang as they walked to Pony’s school. They were taking their time walking down the streets and for the first time they all were really seeing what was all around them. Memories were surfacing in their minds showing them what it all meant to them. With every step they took on the sidewalk they remembered a different memory as if they were walking down memory lane. Ponyboy didn’t think it was possible for him to be walking down this street for the last time as a high school student, but he had gone through the years with great grades that earned him many scholarships.

At 11.26pm a girl with sleek straight hair walked along the middle of a deserted street, the sharp heels of her shoes making a muted click every time they hit the damp cobblestone road beneath them. As she walked her hair swayed only slightly, as if not even the most powerful of winds could cause it to be anything less than beautiful. The girl took beauty very seriously, her outfit was always creaseless, her nails were always without chips and her shoes were always polished to the point of immaculateness. But it was her hair that was the most beautiful thing about her; it was long and as black as the night sky way above her, and shone as if it too had stars though out it. Never was a single hair out of place; never was her hair anything less

I relaxed on my deck outside, basking in the streams of sunshine and sticky humid air.

I weave in and out of the last of the summer apple trees, beside the deep pool, the weeping willows cry out as the wind rattles their bones. The howling tempestuous wind carries me into a clearing where a little girl, with her hair like an inferno splayed around her head like a delicate band, lies asleep in the silvery moonlight. I fly right up to her and land on her chest, where a scarlet black rose lies dead upon her breast. I wake up. I don’t know where I am.

I stood as steady as a statue. A myriad of gigantic brown trees as old as Adam surrounded me. They seemed to stare at me like watchmen. I took a deep breath and my heart began to beat like a cheetah chasing its prey. Slowly, I walked into the dark forest.

Last winter, I went on a camping trip in the woods. As we unpacked our tents, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Two red eyes glowing right at me behind a bush. They were getting bigger and bigger the closer the creature got to us. We usually go camping in this forest, but this was the first time I saw something strange here. My stomach churned as I noticed the bush starting to rustle, alarming me that the creature will jump out and kill us. ¨Hey Matt, do you see those big, glowing, red eyes too?¨ I whispered, still looking at the creature hidden behind the bush. Matt, my best friend, was too busy fighting the cloth of our tent because he got his legs somehow stuck.

“I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say about the way you treat me, now go home and look after your daughter, she needs you,” Silvia demanded, shrugging Walker’s arm off of her body.

Approximately four hours into their travel, a red firework exploded in the distance and previously concealed bandits emerged from behind boulders, undergrowths and covered pits. They charged with the ferocity of a tidal wave, brandishing weapons and bellowing threats. Aloysius halted his horse, made a signal, and soldiers began to move forward.

It was a hot Sunday afternoon by the swamp, the smells were overwhelming, the smell of dirty water and excretion of all the animals that the swamp was a home to. I hear the buzz of the little flies that fly around my face as I try my best to swat them away. The air tastes of sewage with a small hint of blood. The dry grass pressed up against my legs, making a crunch every time I moved. The scorching Australian sun beaming down onto my pale English skin, I try to find a place that can act was a protections from the ball of fire in the sky.

“He thinks that I’m stupid. He hates me. He thinks that I’m high maintenance. He thinks that I’m lazy. He doesn’t

Monsters run free in epic poems of centuries far past; horrific, villainous creatures of fantasy who illustrate all that is bad in the world and stand for the tribulations the epic hero much overcome. The Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf is no different. Some are born of, and in turn give birth to legends, such as the fire-breathing dragon, while others are tied to the bible. In studies, Beowulf's monsters are explained and will continue to be analyzed as symbolic of countless different ideas. In relation to each other and the epic's hero, the monsters of Beowulf represent the ever-present flaws of humanity and the monstrous feelings or behaviors that over take the mind in a moment of weakness, leading to eventual downfall.

The howling of the wind brought my eyes to open. Where was I? Focusing in the dark of night, confusion washed over me as I came to realize I was in the desert. Distant landscapes of dry and worn rock surrounded me, and beneath my bare feet I felt the gritty sand caught between my toes. I was surrounded by those rocky hills and yet as I scanned the desolate desert it seemed never ending. The irony of the nighttime desert suddenly set into my body; that ghastly wind moving right through me and chilling my bones to that of splintering ice. The need to move started me forward though, and I felt a sharp ache all over, my body trying to fight against change. Was I lost? My heart began pounding fast in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins