The Love Of Camelot: A Narrative Fiction

“A couple of weeks ago, Guinevere and I shared supper at her cottage. We drank far too much mead and ate too little food. Before I knew it, I had her backed up against the wall, kissing her, and I had her skirts bunched up around her waist. I reached between her legs and touched her. I just kept moving my fingers in little circles and she seemed to enjoy it. She was, ah, aroused. Wet, I mean. After a few minutes of that, I pulled down her top and kissed her breasts and neck while I kept moving my fingers between her legs. She rubbed up against me, then she shook and gasped, loud. I kissed her nipples and they were hard…” Arthur’s ended his story abruptly and stopped walking. “Please tell me that’s

Each and every day that Guinevere didn’t come to Arthur, the king worried. What started out as a smoldering flame of concern had now erupted into a full-fledged fire torturing his mind and soul.

On the village’s land, there are more beautiful flowers than before. Before there are flowers on the land, there are no flowers at all. The village is a dull land and the villagers “were going to break their backs digging for springs among the stones and plant flowers” (3). The beautiful flowers and its fragrance will allure nearby sailors. The flowers are planted to represent the splendor

The mother started the story not wanting her children or even really caring for them, they had a full time nanny and the mother had no interest in them. "She had bonny children, yet she felt they had been thrust upon her, and she could not love them. They looked at her coldly, as if they were finding fault with her. And hurriedly she felt she must cover up some fault in herself." She was dull to the way she felt and was negative towards and about her husband because she believed him to be unlucky and the reason for all the money problems they were having. She was negative and dark the whole time. She hardly had anything positive to say and it stayed that way until she finally received a great deal of money and that made her feel adequate again as a family. She changed her way of being and started to care more about her son and what was happening with him. She wanted to leave places to check on him and concer herself with how he was and if he was okay."Two nights before the Derby, she was at a big party in town, when one of her rushes of anxiety about her boy, her first-born, gripped her heart till she could hardly speak. She fought with the feeling, might and main, for she believed in common sense. But it was too strong. She had to leave the dance and go downstairs to telephone to the country." Her mood only changed after she got money and felt that she was good enough again, she valued herself on the outside look not what was really important. This just goes to

Sitting on that clayey hill Dorothy could gaze the tiny and colourful Purmamarca, a picturesque town with few adobe houses, a low-lying green meadow and a rainbow of endless hills. She touched the wet clay and took a deep breath. The refreshing chilly breeze filled her physically and emotionally. Then, he kissed her cheek.

Agreeing to this had been an awful mistake. Arthur was king, the powerful ruler of the most prosperous, progressive, and wealthy kingdom in the known lands. If he turned up with a baby and said it was his and Guinevere’s, everyone should listen! Guinevere

Moments after he had unexpectedly given Elizabeth Ann the reigns, the little girl let out a rather terrified yelp. But not before giving Uncle Henry a horrified look. Then she yelped. And not long after her yelp, she seemed to be struggling to find words to say. What she wanted to say, Uncle Henry never knew. He was too busy with his “figgering”. But it wasn’t that he paid no attention, because he certainly did. Why, you don’t think he’d let a little girl hold the reins without supervision? Of course not. But Uncle Henry knew she’d be able to figure it out quickly. It wasn’t entirely too hard. He laughed quietly to himself.

Parents long to see their children flourish. Even when misfortunes befall, they strive to sharpen the blunted edges, to right the wrongs, and to provide the most optimal foundation; many parents—novice or professional—live through their children, as established by the unadorned sentences and short paragraphs occupying the passage of “I Stand Here Ironing”. The protagonist harbors many insights into her daughter and herself; however, the abrupt sentences that are rhythmically planted after the complex or compound sentences in the writing convey tangents and communicate deviated messages. The unnamed mother-narrator is ironing and recollecting her unsuccessful parentage to an assumed-to-be school counselor; as her thoughts unfold in a stream-of-consciousness manner, she abruptly thinks of a foray—fact or excuse—that deflects the greater issue at hand. “I used to try to hold her and love her after she came back, but her body would stay stiff, and after a while she’d push away.

Colette crawled for what felt like hours until she reached the edge of the stone castle. To her right, she could view the horse stables, and though she knew women were not allowed to ride she did anyways. She jumped on the back of a horse, without a saddle or reins. She rode that horse until she reached a village.

Goudi Ozilia woke up early on the morning of his mother’s birthday. It was another lovely morning in the great land of Stillta. The twin suns were shining brightly this morning. Goudi, a mischievous 8 year old boy with light brown hair, walked down the dirt road looking for flowers to pick for this mother. Of course the best flowers were grown and cultivated by hand, so as he did every year since he was 5 he visited local neighbors asking for permission to pick flowers to give to his mother on her birthday. By now he knew which neighbors were likely to give permission and which were not. He avoided the houses of the disagreeable people. There was one woman who always let him take as many flowers as he could carry, Mrs. Kritches. Old

However, while Mr. Tipton’s garden held a variety of flowers, during the summer, the garden bed would always be alive with the vibrant blooms of zinnias. Dozens – no, hundreds it seemed like—of scarlet, fuchsia, and gamboge blossoms of varying heights rose above the manicured lawn like reeds near the water’s edge. They carpeted the area in front of the child-height white picket fence so

Before knowing or experiencing contact with Flora, the governess declares this child's beauty unsurpassable and convinces herself that the child could do no wrong; all speculation through a simple glance. So taken by the appearance of Flora was the governess, that she couldn't find herself having a peaceful sleep for some nights after her arrival at Bly.

: Internal conflict often can’t be seen but as briony grows older, she acts upon it because the conflict begins to eat at her conscience. As a young girl, Briony was self indulged but when she ‘(abandons) herself, the independency in terms of being able to be creative and be praised for it, she now abandons it to a life of strictures, rules, obedience, housework and a constant fear of disapproval’ (pg 276), her humility and shame is seen when she sacrifices the dreams of severing the ‘sickly dependency of infancy and early childhood, and the schoolgirl eager to show off and be praised’. Readers can then sympathise as the young girl whose actions initially showed that she was incapable of mercy and love, have proved wrong. By choosing nursing

“songs of happy cheer” about field and flower, hill and stream, and the innocence of child and lamb, as seen through the eyes of a child (World Book vol.2 pg 314).

There was a very interesting dynamic between the members of the house. The maid was the closest person to the children in the family. This was primarily because each child felt an emotional disconnect when it came to their mother, and the father worked long hours during weekdays, which didn’t allow him too much time to foster a relationship with his two young children.