The Shepherd Alternate Ending

The wind chime hung from the roof of the abandoned house , it swayed calmly and slowly against the wind , everything seemed peaceful . We - my father and I - sat on the porch of the rundown house that only we knew about . It was dark and I wasn’t the biggest fan of the night , the night is unpredictable but yet so beautiful .

Along this difficult march, the narrator reflects on the life of the dog and remembers the not-so-bad characteristics of the family pet, “During our joint ordeal I had developed a grudging affection for our pet; he who’d been so quick to defend my kith and kin against the noise of passing trucks, who took loud notice of the squirrels outside, who held fast in the foyer, hackles raised, fearlessly barking, whenever company arrived at the front door (248).”

He waited until the night’s 11th hour. By now the Princess rested in the highest tower of the castle, locked away from the dangerous world, yet so oblivious to the dangers that which fated the rest of her life. Silently the peasant journeyed outside, where he stopped at the wall of the tower where she lay. He watched her in the darkness from below, lifting his face to her, letting the light rest on his every surface of darkness. The night was cloudless. The winds wailed between the motionless oak trees as its thin branches clawed out, ever so slightly disturbing the leaves with its hostile screeches. Not the thick moss of the trees nor the damp leaves squirming in his toes could distract the peasant from so enticing a scent. All that encircled him was the sweetness of lavender and rosewood, filling his entire being as he sunk into the grass, like sand washed over by the water, with every breeze passing

All was dark, all was silent. Never would he see his sister or brother again. His poor old mother, without a husband, now without her eldest son. Each day his heartbroken mother would sit at home, in her old wooden rocking chair, waiting for him to come home from a hard day on the farm. But he never came!

For days he stayed there, curled up by the wall. The sun would rise, somewhere, illumine the mouth of his pitiful den, grace the cold rock in front of him with a soft blue sheen, and set again, immersing his life in empty darkness. One day, two, three, he stopped counting, buried his mind in the chambers of his soul where a soft dim warmth still glowed. Waves of grief passed through, turned him over in riptides of hungriest despair, roaring death pounded nightly at his door, and then, hearing no answer, tore away again, letting warm comfort envelop him and soothe his damaged

The indication of morning had approached; wind halted while the air became temperate. Morning routine of the birds, fetching food for their children, communicating with the others, hatching their eggs. Newly seeded grass shooted out, growing like weeds. The air reminded Mary of a camping trip when she was younger in Yosemite Park. Pinecones and trees gave her the happy memories, ones of her husband and her only child before the accident.

The thundering sound of hooves echoes in my ears as my horse comes barreling down the hill toward me. My whistle had caused him to go crashing through the tall grass and Queen Ann’s Lace in search of me once again. Coming to a sliding stop in front of me, I gently stroke his muzzle. Letting my hands glide over his fuzzy neck and into his jet black mane, I grab ahold and throw myself onto his strong back. We go running through the pasture, scattering wild rabbits and sending sparrows a flight. I watch them fly overhead, their brown wings leading them to rest in the big oak tree that my horse and I come to a halt underneath.

It was Lydia's birthday, a beautiful Saturday evening, and the entire pack had gathered to attend her annual bash. Derek had even, after consulting with Deaton, given his betas each a small amount of wolfsbane extract to put in their drinks.

It was almost as if that was nature’s way of dousing me with frigid water to end stupefaction or a deep slumber, but to the best of it’s ability with what it had on hand in the present situation. I promptly blinked my eyes in repeated fashion for several seconds, in lieu of using my hands to wipe the sleepiness of my eyes as they were coated in filth from the barn, and regained my senses as the wind dwindled to inexistence. The blades of grass around me, of moderate height, flexed and waved in accordance with wind but began returning to their natural looped and erect positions over the span of mere seconds. Their motion, or lack of in that moment, caught my attention as I began to gaze about the land and directed my eyes towards the right of where I was standing, and the barn, and found the wind continuing its reign of motion upon the grass. I found it intriguing to notice the phenomenon and observed as the same reign gradually fell over the land nearing and eventually all around me once more, similar to the moments preceding that

One terribly chilly night Daisy’s father went outside to check on the horse. This was his daily routine. He would refill the water, stock the food and brush the horse's mane. When he was around the horse, he always felt a sense of safety and warmth, but tonight things were different. He came upon the barn and he saw her. She was laying on the ground stiff. She was

The dog drooled over the Owl and walked across the lawn. The Dainty Bear thought about the Dust Owl who helped him, thought above his lost Heart and Mind, thought about the other toys, and thought about his life. With one last thought, the Dainty Bear ran over as fast as he possibly could toward the big dog’s paws. “Let Go!” shouted the Bear with all of his might. He hopped on the dog, dragging the Owl out, bringing the Dust Owl to safety.

“Do you see it,” Emerson questioned Alice, “the polished black worm by the entrance?” Emerson’s schizophrenia had puzzled him. He was quite intelligent, a man with a Master’s of Psychology, until his condition had caught up with him.

Award winning book Jeremy; is a delightfully enchanting story about the survival of a baby kookaburra, whom is cared for after falling from his nest. Evidence of precise vocabulary is used in describing “a nest high in the big palm tree in our garden” (Faille, 2014 pg. 1), creating depth and believability in the existence of the setting (Tunnel, 2008). Using figurative language, Jeremy is given human like actions through personification, whom stays up late to watch television (Faille, 2014), a feat unusual for a wild bird. Furthermore personification is again addressed; through an emotional act of a simple goodbye kiss between Jeremy and the human girl (Faille, 2014), outlining the care two characters now share with each other (Tunnell, 2008).

    On a rather quiet day on the farm, the sky was painted a brilliant blue, almost hypnotizing to anyone who glanced upon it. Due to the lack of the qualities the shepherd boy had the luxury of at home, the shepherd boy’s mind began to wander while watching over the sheep. The shepherd boy came to be bored out of his mind. At this moment, the young boy had remembered what his grandparents had reminded him of before they left for their journeys; “Now, if you lay your eyes upon that dastardly wolf, even if

The horses in the pen were a little uneasy as the guards watched the servants feeding the livestock. Palm tree branches were not moving as there was no breeze blowing in the early morning. Sounds of the camp awakening were echoing thought as the soldiers were starting to arise. The morning fires could be smelled as the maidens were getting ready to feed the troops.