The As A Night Creature

The stars are bright and radiant-- their numbers are vast beyond all imagination. They shine in the dark sky, like billions of little lights hanging from nonexistent threads. It is a reality that not many people stop to admire. In the city people sink down into their couches at night and drift away, eventually, to the slumber that most people crave. But the stars, shining endlessly, are there night after night, in the rain and even in the snow. If you just stop for a moment, on a night with no clouds, and look up, you will see this magnificent

Macbeth makes his first kill after killing Duncan and he is freaking out about the blood on his hands. “ Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No: this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine Making the green one red”(Shakespeare, II.ii.60-63). “...Fear, horror and pain is increased...being Macbeth’s description of himself wading in a river of blood”(Spurgeon 126).

A world without the excessive use of vapid lighting will allow people to enjoy the magnificent stars as captured in Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”. Bogard then moves on to establishing the beauty of Paris as the “City of Light”. In stark contrast to its status as a city illuminated by beautiful artificial lighting, the city has taken steps to limit the use of these excessive lighting, in turn turning Paris from “a city of light” to “a city of light … before 2AM.” This dichotomy allows Bogard’s audience to appreciates the importance of preserving the night sky via limiting the presence of artificial light. If a city which is famed for its use of artificial lighting is able to preserve the natural darkness while concurrently preserving its natural beauty, it is a given that society will be able to mimic this

Fixing his eyes on the place where the light had shone down he searched for stars, clouds, the slightest hint of moonlight, yet found nothing, and shutting his eyes again, resolved to sleep until daylight. Before the numbness could swallow him, a crawling sensation on his right calf alerted him to the presence of some creature lurking there, a small animal with strength, insect or lizard. With a simultaneous kick of his right foot and flail of his left arm, he managed to smack it off, then laid as still as possible till the fire in his bones subsided. Sleep overtook him, smiling in the dark. He could

The vast sky above the trees was home to an array of clouds. At the turn of night, a sparkling variety of stars. The clouds were as fluffy as cotton, each with its own unique shape. As delicate as daisies, yet unbending like metal. The stars were as sharp and as piercing as thorns, but also as lovely as the bud itself. The clouds conquered the day before all time, but they gladly let the stars race across the plains as it darkened. It was the natural order, and was seen by all as equal and fair.

the stars…. The lights grow brighter as the earth lurches away from the sun, and now the

A purple dusk splashing over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. When the sun set, no candle replaced it. Only the lustrous spark in glossy eyes to spare. Under the willow trees, the leaves lay deep and so crisp that a lizard made a great skittering if he ran among them. Elegantly, the innumerable flashing fragments lay shining in midst of the church. Ahead, the path vivaciously glistening like white quartz, yet raindrops on the weary concrete was all it was.

I ran, splitting clouds of tiny insects in my wake, disturbing their frantic congregations only visible as reflections of the evening sun’s golden light.

Life in the town of Stoneshade was fairly simple. The weather is always warm, although the sun never seems to shine. The Stoneshade river brings us fresh water from Marianne's glacier, just north of us in the mountains. The people here are mainly happy, but I can’t be one voice for everyone, since the town is too big to know every person in it. In fact, it’s more like a city than a town, but since everyone lives so far away from each other, it doesn’t have the city feel to it. In between the many houses are a vast range of trees, which is where most of us spend our time. Even though our town has the high technology of any other place, the residents prefer to stay outside, and for a good reason, too.

The use of the word ‘blood’ contains the recoiling images of horror and disgust that are associated with it. However within the play ‘Macbeth’, blood is also

On the other side of Central park in search of a dog wedding was Grecia. She sniffed her way along the lake. Looked under every rock she found. Stopped to smell the roses and got her emergency blunt and lit up. She spotted a tree right next to the lake and sat to relax and take a moment to breathe. As she went to sit down next to a friendly looking homeless man she realized why she was there in the first place.

Red. Blood, pure and fresh as if it just came from a wound. Rain, the cold feeling of it's pattering embrace cooling my body from the warm blood on it. I look around, my eyes blurry and straining to see, as I notice all the corpses around me. Their mangled, twisted bodies showing them beyond all repair.

The first thing I noticed about the Rift was that it looked like one of those sleep pods from sci-fi movies in the early 2000’s. The machine was sleek. A silver pod, with the outline of an opening barely visible. Perfectly ordinary for such a device, but for some reason it sucked all the light out of the room. The weight of what I was about to experience finally catching up to me. I will be able to see, smell, and feel everything. Everything that happened in Elie Wiesel’s night. I will see, smell, and feel the holocaust through the eyes of Wiesel.

The grass was soft and green, reserved for those who wanted to lie down or sit. A sweet aroma of flowers overflowed near by like s shinning light, but was hidden by the untrimmed bushes and wildly growing trees. Up above me was the beautiful, high noon blue sky spotted with fluffy, white clouds and airplanes flying by. I emerged into the parking lot and stopped happily as a squirrel under a tree. Hesitating to proceed anywhere further I took a few

There was once a man, he stood outside on the edge of the forest every night. His gaze would set upon the nights starts. Peaceful and calming the sight was, giving him hope, he would always tell himself one more night. Every time he would hear rustling in the branches be would focus on the forest before him. He was waiting for the girl of his dreams to emerge. This girl, with beautiful hair that changed colors in the sunlight. She was small, tiny, but if afraid or angry her shape would change to that of a beautiful white wolf the color of snow. This man had waited years for her I 'm this spot almost every night. It was because this was the spot he saw in his dreams where he would meet her. His whole life he felt empty and