The Chains That Bind By Bradybourassa

Moving swiftly through the trees, Cobyn followed a mental map he had of the surrounding area.  He and his family had traveled from the Marshlands before. It had been the place he had been born. The Unknown had driven them out though, leaving their city to burn. Cobyn's infant sister, Aleen. Aleen, had been lost that day, as had so many other Keddish people.  The moon shone down from above, like a silver sun lighting his path. Creatures moved, fast and flitting through the trees as Cobyn walked, keeping a quick pace. He could hear the crunching of the leaves under his bare feet, and occasionally the moonlight would catch the hilt of the sword making it shine. Cobyn hurried. The armies would not clash for many days, having

The tickling sensation of heat bathing his face forced him to slowly open his eyes. The sun’s golden rays stunned him blurring his vision as he quickly turned away. As his eyes adjusted, he was surprised to find the absence of his father. His heart started to pound and all the confidence and security that he had built up melted in the space of a few seconds. He jumped up flinging his sleeping bag on to the ground and looked around taking note of his surroundings. To him, it felt as if the trees were suddenly sent out to attack him like stealthy assassins gaining on him as they moved side to side from the winds steady breeze. The faint noise of bugs and animals chattering sounded like the grunt of a predator before it hunts its prey. A colossal cloud

Instead her attackers were shrieking and blindly stabbing into the darkness, trying to attack the one attacking them. The woman dropped to her knees in terror, but Jessie never dropped her gaze. One by one the attackers fell to the cacophony of bones snapping, blood splattering against the stone walls, and howls of agony. The 'hero's' cloak swept around his body as he fought them, the edges of it stained in their blood, and in the distant moonlight Jessie could just make out his face - the deep blue eyes devoid of any light, warmth, or

The Hero’s quest is one of literatures greatest devices. It is the foundation that our myths and legends are built upon, allowing them to soar to even greater heights of imagination. Yet, in a world where Herakles no longer labors or Arthur’s knights no longer quest for treasures, where does the hero’s quest fit into more modern settings? In the novels that we have examined, two stand out as having addressed the hero’s journey and its place within our modern times. Goodbye, Columbus by Phillip Roth, and Ms. Hempel Chronicles by Sarah Shun-lien Bynum both have protagonists that traverse various stages of the hero cycle in their own unique way.

As Bill took his first step in the woods, he takes a deep breath soaking in the scent of oak and fresh ash. “far removed from the seats of strife”, not having a warm bed or hot meals even a full night rest. Knowing he had one abventure ahead for Bill and Kats. Both having to hike 16 miles everyday over rocks,trees, crossing ice cold rivers, and hearding the rain outside of thier tend and the roaring of the bears at night.

Motionless within the sandy embrace of the tall dune, Billy waited while the sweat ran like tiny streams down his dust-stained face, but he could hear nothing above the roar of the pounding surf. He lay on his back within the small depression, musket cradled upon his chest, eyes straining to pierce the thin forest that bordered the great dunes, searching for movement while his ears strained to catch any sound that would alert him to the presence of his hunters…but he saw and heard nothing of his pursuers, only now and again did he hear the sharp cries of hungry gulls above the din of the lake as they wheeled above.

He counted to ten, took another deep breath and set off running, every step taking him deeper into the emptiness of the wilderness. His long legs rapidly eating up the ground beneath him, digging his heels into the soft undergrowth. He was in for a long journey, every step of it alone. The cuts on his wrist stung as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of

There was war and famine all around us. Each horrendous battle was a nightmare in its most powerful form. I could never forget those nightmares.The suffering howls of injured men who died as pawns in a game of warlords, dark crimson blood seeping through their uniform and into the brass-covered Earth.The battlefield was dust and dirt, all baked under an uncompromising sun and an even uncompromising army of ruthless soldiers waiting for the taste of their new kill.

Summary: An endless adventure in a dystopian wasteland accented with love, war, and a princess’ tale.

The creatures, giant paw pinned her against the silver wall, she screamed out in agony as it seared her flesh. She latched her fingers around the creature’s arm and tried forcing it to let her go to no avail because the moment it released her, it sank its sharp teeth deep into her neck. Adelaide cried out in pain, she gazed upward to see her parents frantically trying to break the witches protective dome around the arena.

The fire hissed menacingly in the dark as I shivered uncontrollably, beads of sweat trickling gently down from my forehand. The knife felt frosty in my grip, it’s blade reflecting the moon in the dusky, night air, the soft glow gleaming in the darkness. As I glanced above, I saw four wooden huts lined with rows full of butchered meat, blood still leaking down, seeping into the wood panels. A campfire crackled somewhere in the distance behind the wooden shacks, beyond the view of the pit. The big, burly men resembled jagged mountain cliffs with their heavy pelts hanging loosely over their shoulders, whose cold black eyes resembled ten thousand winters. Eyes similar to vultures, devoid of any pity. I avoided their gaze, afraid of what they might do. The hum of the the villagers grow louder, dirt sodden and weary from their daily work, filling the gaps in the circle of the hulking men. Some whispering, some without any definable expression. I strained, catching

” Don’t move!” a deep rusty voice yells before pushing through the bushes and stepping in front of Slymae. The elven warrior unsheathes his sword from his side and points it at the mother “there’s nowhere else to run”. Slymae stares at the man his long brown hair resting upon his shoulders. The way his armor glistens in the moonlight above and the way the moon shows in his sword like it’s trying to stop him.

Sophia’s mother’s grip tightened around her small body as the rotting floorboards above creaked under the pressure of solid combat boots. Quaking with fear her mother knew that they had no chance. Two worn hands gently held her lifeless cheeks, as her mother, consumed by terror and love, kissed her forehead and placed her in a dark corner. With the small beams of light that slithered their way through the cracks, the confused little girl saw tears streaming down her mama’s pale face. The haunting sound of boots stomping with pride ceased as they stood above them like animals callously hunting their prey. She raised her quivering finger up to her chapped lips as the piercing sound of gunshots split the silence and a frenzied spray of metal showered down, missing them by inches. The floorboard above was torn up revealing her mama to the monsters. Sophia remembered being frightened when her teacher read a

Sweat dripped down Alphonse’s face as he guided his father mule’s through the rows of dirt. While, digging it up for the growing season to start, he felt relieved when the heat lifted from his shoulders. It was awfully hot in Ohio, so he didn’t think much of it until the mule had stopped turning the soil. Deftly, Al leaped off the back of the mighty creature to find his hooves covered in vines. As quick as a flash, he whipped a hunting knife from his pocket, and cut the large animal free. Finally, Alphonse turned to the wake of his tilling, to see a wall of vines and plants. He heard a cry in the distance, shouting his name, but he had been fastened to the ground, both mentally and literally. Before he could do anything else, it all went black.

A chorus of howls echoed maliciously from the tree line. The air was dense with night and the humidity dulled Rainsford’s senses. Wolves, or any other manner of beast could be lurking within the shrubbery, their fangs dripping with blood. He jogged to the nearest tree and shimmied up its thick trunk. A rustle came from his left. “Hoo, Hoo!” Rainsford yelped in surprise as the owl took flight.