The Hero's Story: The Great Betrayer

For once, she wandered toward him with no children in tow. Today, she wore no linen coif, and her elbow-length, blond hair hung down loose. Percival had not realized how thick and glossy it was. And instead of wearing her typical nanny uniform of a stiff beige tunic dress, she wore a pale blue dress, more fitted at the top, and cinched at the waist with dark leather girdle belt. The belt accentuated the curve of her hips, and he color of her dress brought out the light honey color in her eyes. She was even more beautiful than he recalled, and in that instant, her presence was the balm he needed to soothe his agitated soul. He realized that he’d had but one brief interaction with her earlier in the day, yet her presence was exactly what he needed.

The young reporter went back to the hero’s side, relaying her younger brother, hoping to get a little chat with Barry, but the much needed conversation got to wait a little longer as the young man had fallen asleep once more, which wasn't really a surprise considering everything he's been through. Caitlin did said that even with his powers, it could take a whole week for him to return to his optimum form.

Gwilan gathered herself enough to scramble back inside her home. Her emotionally drained body longed of an embrace of any kind as she buried her face in her hands and wept for hours but what felt like a short eternity (oxymoron). Days later Gwilan hosted a funeral in memorial of Torm where only her two sons and a few one of his dearest friends who he grew up with. Although Gwilan and Torm’s marriage had not been of a Romeo and Juliet romance Gwilan still cried her eyes out due to the loss of a best friend (hyperbole). When her eyes un-blurred a bit she noticed her second son had arrived and had a lady close to his arm.

The ceiling opened up over a section of the complex revealing a spot to fly and land aircrafts. As soon as this happened, 12 guards armed with shotguns came into the room. Jamal began firing at them quickly. He killed 5 in an instant the guards began firing into the room Jamal was able to avoid the spray of gunfire but OJ was not as lucky. OJ fell to the ground gripping his chest and struggled for air. Jamal immediatly picked up a shotgun from a dead guard and opened fire all over the remaining guards. After each guard fell to the ground Jamal kept firing until the weapon was out of ammo. Jamal rushed over to OJ in tears. OJ wasnt in good shape. His lungs were severely damaged and he struggled for every remaining breath. OJ looked at Jamal and was

He was...a much smaller man than Kuro had expected, slim and well-built, with a soft, boyish, pretty face and fine blond hair — but it was his eyes Kuro noticed, even sitting atop his horse half a court away, how they seemed to pierce him, how he stared unblinking, cool and proud and utterly graceful. Kuro felt his heart-rate quicken with something that might have been surprise mingled with no small amount of interest, but now was not the time to dwell on such on things.

"We need to go now!" Carl reached down and pulled Jackey up with a rugged tug tghat flung her against his chest. Her soft skin was in perfect contrast with his bloodied and broken. Her face was slightly bruised but that too was a contrast to his battered face. The three of them moved out into the hallway as a single entity. in the distance were roars and demonic screeches and Jackey hesitantly let Carl lead her.

She poured all her heart and soul and hope and conscience into the lost, lonely beings. It was a shocking awakening for the Devourers.

We remembered what we had heard about the country before we came. A bright future, bursting at the seams with wealth and opportunity for all.

It felt pleasing to be among her things again – the bits of worn, friendly ruins of her past. A favorite book was tenderly caressed; the chandelier her mother gave her glinted in the afternoon light, even the faded sofa was treasured. The effervescence of her feelings somehow imbued the surroundings she’d overlooked to come forward in deep relief.

Anti war hero is another real topic that comes across in these books. Both the principle charactes are the exact inverse of what we would call as war heroes. For Yossarian it would be an utterly stupid decision to setting out his life for his nation. He, cleverly in the book tries to escape more flying missions by conceding himself to the hospital in spite of the fact that he is not sick and crazy due to war. The true legends are those individuals that stand up and broadcast the idiocy of war rather than those soldie who kills the most enemy or the pilot who bombs the most focuses of that of the war. These novels were composed above all to impartto us that war is wrong and is a misuse of significant of lives. They persuaded us that the freedom

Caroline stood there looking at the man who just saved her life. She watched as he bent over the dead soldiers, looking through their pockets, looting what little money they had on them. He stood up, turning towards Caroline reaching over his shoulder repositioning the quiver and bow he wore on his back.

He took her by the hand. "'All her life,' she says. Look at this. Spent her life in a wheelchair, and all the while she could walk and did not realize how easy it was." He held onto her to help her stand, remained with

Today in Windrixville a heartbreaking tragedy struck. The abandoned church near Jay Mountain was burnt down, and with 4 to 5 children in it. If it wasn’t for the

Unbeknownst to him, as he watched her, his gaze softened and a small smile graced his lips. But as he watched her maneuver back towards the castle, he could feel his heart beat quicken. This woman was only here for a couple of days. By all accounts, a stranger. But still, this woman filled him with such happiness and joy and he had no idea why. It didn 't make sense to him. They had never met before this.

She imagined him walking to her from the far side of the dead-end street, where only he could transcend that barrier. He towered her, with dark hair and olive skin and a nose that looked like it had been broken once and never healed quite right. It made his face look strong, but it was nothing imposing. His gait was calm, confident, unhurried. His hands, long-fingered and calloused from working with wood, rested peaceably at his sides. She saved the thought of his eyes for later, because oddly, all of her frailty and all of his strength coexisted together in there. But that was just her imagination.