Prologue
The wind was howling like loups in the night, and Will sat shivering in his post. The tourelle on which he sat overlooked a tall rock ledge that sloped into the ocean.
“Why do I get this bloody post.” he a dit to himself. The air was so cold up there that it sank right into your bones. Even though Will had dressed as warmly as he could with a thick woolen cloak, he could still feel the icy fingers creeping up his back. The feu in the brazier barely helped either.
“Nothing as always.” he a dit as he looked out to the edge of the sea. He had taken to talking to himself when he got the night watch, it got lonely up there. “Damn them all.”
“Better not let Lord Tarlet hear toi say that.” a dit a voice behind where he was sitting. He looked to see a figure standing in the doorway to the tower. He was a bulky thing that covered the entire width of the door and three quarters of the height.
“Hello Ron.” Will said. Ron was a large man but was soft at heart. He could barely lift a sword and couldn’t aim with a bow to save his life. Why Lord Tarlet had made him a guard, he never knew.
“I got some ragoût for you.” Ron a dit holding out a wooden bowl and spoon.
“What I wouldn’t give for some roast turkey and warm wine.” he a dit longingly, though taking the ragoût anyway.
“If toi want that, then you’ll have to do your time on the watch.” Ron replied. He walked over to the edge of the railing, facing toward all the small houses. Will joined him and looked over the town. Smoke billowed out of most of the low wooden huts.
“I have no idea what they could be burning, wood is becoming scarcer as our high and mighty lords chop down the trees for their own comforts.” Will said.
“Quiet down, will you?” Ron responded nervously.
“Why?” Will a dit defiantly, “Who’s going to hear us up here?”
“Just eat your ragoût Will.” Ron descended the steps then.
The ragoût was as bland as ever, but still it was warm. Will took a deep breath and blew out a giant nuage of mist. Somehow it got even colder. Then it got colder, colder than Will had ever. A cold so deep and chilling it felt as though knives were piercing him. The feu diminished into nothing but a flicker.
That was odd, thought Will. Any warmth that had been in the tourelle was gone now. He began to shiver violently. “Better not catch a cold.”
Will’s eyes widened and his cœur, coeur started pounding. His breaths became shallow and ragged. He saw a black mist creeping out of the ocean. The dark tendrils began to slither up the slopes of the cliff.
Will tried to steady himself on the railing and stared paralyzed with fear at the thing that was drawing ever closer. images swam before him, visions of torture and death. Of nothing but darkness enveloping everything. He gagged on the mist as it swept into the turret, clawing at his throat. He collapsed to the ground and crawled toward the alarm bell.
The world was getting dimmer and his head lighter. His outstretched hand reached the rope, and he pulled with any of the might he had left. The cloche, bell hardly made a sound. Will got up to his knees, and pulled with his own weight as he sank to the ground.
It had done the job, bells began to ring out around the rest of the turrets. The chiming became ever softer, until it was only a whisper, and Will drifted into nothingness.
What can I add? What should I take out? Was it attention grabbing? (I'm going to add plus to it later)
The wind was howling like loups in the night, and Will sat shivering in his post. The tourelle on which he sat overlooked a tall rock ledge that sloped into the ocean.
“Why do I get this bloody post.” he a dit to himself. The air was so cold up there that it sank right into your bones. Even though Will had dressed as warmly as he could with a thick woolen cloak, he could still feel the icy fingers creeping up his back. The feu in the brazier barely helped either.
“Nothing as always.” he a dit as he looked out to the edge of the sea. He had taken to talking to himself when he got the night watch, it got lonely up there. “Damn them all.”
“Better not let Lord Tarlet hear toi say that.” a dit a voice behind where he was sitting. He looked to see a figure standing in the doorway to the tower. He was a bulky thing that covered the entire width of the door and three quarters of the height.
“Hello Ron.” Will said. Ron was a large man but was soft at heart. He could barely lift a sword and couldn’t aim with a bow to save his life. Why Lord Tarlet had made him a guard, he never knew.
“I got some ragoût for you.” Ron a dit holding out a wooden bowl and spoon.
“What I wouldn’t give for some roast turkey and warm wine.” he a dit longingly, though taking the ragoût anyway.
“If toi want that, then you’ll have to do your time on the watch.” Ron replied. He walked over to the edge of the railing, facing toward all the small houses. Will joined him and looked over the town. Smoke billowed out of most of the low wooden huts.
“I have no idea what they could be burning, wood is becoming scarcer as our high and mighty lords chop down the trees for their own comforts.” Will said.
“Quiet down, will you?” Ron responded nervously.
“Why?” Will a dit defiantly, “Who’s going to hear us up here?”
“Just eat your ragoût Will.” Ron descended the steps then.
The ragoût was as bland as ever, but still it was warm. Will took a deep breath and blew out a giant nuage of mist. Somehow it got even colder. Then it got colder, colder than Will had ever. A cold so deep and chilling it felt as though knives were piercing him. The feu diminished into nothing but a flicker.
That was odd, thought Will. Any warmth that had been in the tourelle was gone now. He began to shiver violently. “Better not catch a cold.”
Will’s eyes widened and his cœur, coeur started pounding. His breaths became shallow and ragged. He saw a black mist creeping out of the ocean. The dark tendrils began to slither up the slopes of the cliff.
Will tried to steady himself on the railing and stared paralyzed with fear at the thing that was drawing ever closer. images swam before him, visions of torture and death. Of nothing but darkness enveloping everything. He gagged on the mist as it swept into the turret, clawing at his throat. He collapsed to the ground and crawled toward the alarm bell.
The world was getting dimmer and his head lighter. His outstretched hand reached the rope, and he pulled with any of the might he had left. The cloche, bell hardly made a sound. Will got up to his knees, and pulled with his own weight as he sank to the ground.
It had done the job, bells began to ring out around the rest of the turrets. The chiming became ever softer, until it was only a whisper, and Will drifted into nothingness.
What can I add? What should I take out? Was it attention grabbing? (I'm going to add plus to it later)
1 being the best 10 the worst
These livres are great for summer lire I can honestly say that anyone that reads them will want to read them again.
10. Deacula par Bram Stoker
9. The Hobbit par Tolken
8. I'm the king of the château par Susan Hill
7. 1984 par George Orwell
6. The secret diary of Adrian môle, mole par Sue Townsend
5. Pride and prejudice par Jane Austine
4. Jane Eyre par charlotte Bronte
3. Lord of the Flies par William Golding
2. The curious incident of the dog in the nighttime par Mark Haddon
1 Rebecca par Daphne du Maurier
These livres are great for summer lire I can honestly say that anyone that reads them will want to read them again.
10. Deacula par Bram Stoker
9. The Hobbit par Tolken
8. I'm the king of the château par Susan Hill
7. 1984 par George Orwell
6. The secret diary of Adrian môle, mole par Sue Townsend
5. Pride and prejudice par Jane Austine
4. Jane Eyre par charlotte Bronte
3. Lord of the Flies par William Golding
2. The curious incident of the dog in the nighttime par Mark Haddon
1 Rebecca par Daphne du Maurier
Remembering is just an invention of the mind,
So toi need not try to remember something,
toi remember it automatically.
Which is the best thing that toi could have.
The good times that we had...
It is placed in a portion of your mind.
The bad times that we had...
It is placed in the other part of your mind.
toi try to forget all of the bad things that happened,
But it is not possible.
It is stuck in you.
The bad things are painted in ink on your heart.
The good things, toi try to remember.
And they stay.
They never go.
Never leave you.
Remembering is just an invention of the mind.
And, well...I guess I'm happy for that.
So I can remember every friend I've had,
Every boyfriend,
And all the good times.
Every memory will never leave my heart.
They will never be forsaken.
Never.
So toi need not try to remember something,
toi remember it automatically.
Which is the best thing that toi could have.
The good times that we had...
It is placed in a portion of your mind.
The bad times that we had...
It is placed in the other part of your mind.
toi try to forget all of the bad things that happened,
But it is not possible.
It is stuck in you.
The bad things are painted in ink on your heart.
The good things, toi try to remember.
And they stay.
They never go.
Never leave you.
Remembering is just an invention of the mind.
And, well...I guess I'm happy for that.
So I can remember every friend I've had,
Every boyfriend,
And all the good times.
Every memory will never leave my heart.
They will never be forsaken.
Never.
*Poem I wrote for a class project on the holocaust.
DON'T COPY*
Different in ways they couldn't control
Killed for reasons we do not know
Ranging from ages young to old
The innocent people were taken from homes
Soulless people did not care
That the Jewish were in despair
Concentration camps ending their screams
Breaking apart their families
Not once did they do anything wrong
They opened their mouths and sang a sad song
Years went par and plus pain came
Until on one very special day
As one we all saved
The survivors of the Holocaust
DON'T COPY*
Different in ways they couldn't control
Killed for reasons we do not know
Ranging from ages young to old
The innocent people were taken from homes
Soulless people did not care
That the Jewish were in despair
Concentration camps ending their screams
Breaking apart their families
Not once did they do anything wrong
They opened their mouths and sang a sad song
Years went par and plus pain came
Until on one very special day
As one we all saved
The survivors of the Holocaust
It is 120 years into the future and the Rights Organization is stronger than ever. They are killing plus people than ever and there are only three people that can save the World and they are children. Jordan is a thirteen an old witch and is the daughter of the Greek god sun, Apollo. Mark, a fourteen an old wizard who is the son of Demeter. And last but not least Ivy is a thirteen an old daughter of Ares and a great witch. These three children are the worlds only hope. Read Half and Half, The Begining of the End.
Me and Those
Ever noticed that in this life
Everyone wants toi to do something,
ou be something
That sometimes toi don’t want to be?
They are those!
toi know them!
toi probably have those in your house.
They are those who expect toi to take a path,
Even though,
Sometimes,
toi don’t want to take.
They are those who expect toi to be great,
Even though,
Sometimes,
toi prefer to be small and humble.
But do toi think,
For the slightest second,
That they care about that?
They don’t!
They are your parents,
Your grandparents,
Your Uncles and aunts,
That since toi were born,
Came up with a path for toi in life.
But know this,
And say it to yourself:
They are those, they matter,
But me is I,
And I’m the main character.