The Night - Original Writing

I do not quite understand why she would continue to do something that she knows can hurt her. It could be a desperate way, unconsciously to return to the hospital, where she felt for the first time in her life some normalcy. On Page 11, she talks about how, clean the hospital was, how she for the first time had her own room, including a television, all with comforts of being able to eat on a regular basis. The obsession over fire, could be her way of being able to control something in her life, the only thing she was able to control.

Her heart was pounding, her head was racing. She looked around; where was she? Then she remembered the super bright light and the darkness, and she tried to remember if she knew where she was.

It is noted in the pope for when she heard the explosion, her yes grew wet and wild (lines 25-26). This tounced the feelings and emotions of the mother and led her to set out in seach for her daughter.

For a moment, the sound was dulled. The cry softened as the calming sound of repetitive beeping from machines allowed her to catch her breath. Slowly, her arms released the pillow that her nails had pierced. Her ears echoed the beat of her heart. Slowly opening her eyes, her vision blurred from dehydration.

The shock of Angela’s words tore at her heart, strangling her ability to speak. She’d been wrong to hope.

we get a glimpse of her overwhelming feeling of torment and sense of regret. The reader is left with a

She was surprised that she knew about this even though since they came to her in bits and pieces this was starting to feel like she lived in this moment before how she couldn't understand but was going to figure out what was going on and why was she to be apart of it.?

The golden sunlight gleamed through her glass window as melodious chants faintly chimed outside the dark, dank manor. She arose from her slumber and changed with the help of her ladies-in-waiting. She made her way to the grand cathedral where prayers would be made. Endless rows of wooden pews filled the elegant, holy building.

Why she kept her hand there was clear, yet still cloudy to her. "Utter punishment" had been driving her to pain, and it was she who blindly followed unknown commands.

She had been pushing through the throes of warring people, desperate to reach that concrete castle on the hill. The smell of blood had boiled in her nose, hot and steamy in the cold night, dark

They didn't deserve any of the anger or frusteration that she was feeling. Not an single ounce of it. No they didn't. But over the last few years, as she looked at them, all that she could see was that they were free; and that she had to face the Demon Lord.

She refused to think about those memories because they gave her the most gut wrenching headaches. So, she pushed them to the deepest, darkest corners of her mind, and tried to forget about them.

It seemed just like any other day in the kingdom, the sky was bright blue, not a cloud in sight. You lay on the grass, the warmth of the mid afternoon sun on your face as a slight breeze every now and then would ruffled your raven tresses. The palace garden was your favorite spot to relax when you didn't have any royal duties.

Rubbing her aching head, she takes her position at the loom. Her hands begin to shake as she guides the shuttle through the threads. One of the women notice that she is struggling at her work. “Dorcas are you feeling ok? It seems like you haven’t been yourself the last few days.” The other women concur. “Perhaps I need a break. I’ll sit for a while.” Suddenly everything blurs and the room

Her mind surging with the curiosity, the desire and the determination to know why things had turned out this way.