Short Story Essay

Sandrin breathed in deeply and then got on to her hands and knees. She crawled, determined to be in the loop this time around. Sandrin would not allow Tora to keep anything from her this time. Gazing down from her place on the ledge, Sandrin would be able to see Tora and the newcomer without giving herself away. All she had to do was stay quiet and extremely still. Far below her, the door to the welcoming room opened. Tora walked in and a young girl followed her. The girl young girl gazed at

A perfumed musk clings to the room as all sorts of breeds fill the seat lining the hall. Many of the patriots accompanying the rows of seat are clad in rich purples and vibrant greens, and every face appeared to be some form of humanoid, barring a peculiar half-orc, adorned in a red jerking chased with gold, who seemed to enjoy standing rather than sitting like the rest. Down the center of the many seats cut a path of ornate carpet that lead to an elevated centerstage which housed artifacts and tapestries

The trek was arduous and cold despite the layers and layers of clothing Sage wore. She wasn't even sure if Gu Mi knew where she was going. They had been walking for hours in quiet and there was nothing but snow white wasteland for miles. Her boots, meant for such cold weather, didn't keep her toes from feeling numb. She was certain her nose and cheeks were a bright shade of red. Sage never thought she'd visit Siberia. She knew now that she didn't want to, either. "Please tell me we're getting

Chapter 1: The Non-refuse able invitation I lean gently against the tree, listening to my best friends chatting as I continue sewing on my elder brother’s torn pants. “Sheridan, are you even listening?” Clare, a girl friend, pokes me in my side gently, pouting. I pause my sewing and look at her.” No, I was focused on fixing these pants” Maria sighs, pointing a finger at me.” We were talking about Prince Rowan looking for women to choose his bride from,” she squeals,” What if you, Clare, or I was

Glancing around the room at the bookshelves filled with scrolls and leather bound parchment, Alayna only half-listened to her brother’s bothersome voice as her eyes landed on the portrait of their father before peering out the floor-to-ceiling window to look at the garden on the other side. Another sunny day, Alayna noted in distaste, in her opinion the sky should be dark and gloomy, overcast as rain poured from the heavens as to physically represent how she felt. When prompted for a response, Alayna

It was cold in the manor again. Dick hated when it got like this. It seemed almost like an empty shell of its normal warm structure, which always seemed quite inviting. Alfred would be downstairs cooking and humming. Bruce - well being Bruce, and isolating himself in the cave. It was all wonderful, but now it was nighttime, and Dick couldn't sleep. And the manor was cold. A low sigh escaped his lips as he stared at the ceiling. Maybe something to drink would calm his nerves. So, Dick did

“My lord does not wish to speak to any of you at the moment. Do you not see that this is a time of privacy?” Zeriya reprimand them as he guards Akira, the look on his face grows more and more menacing as he stared at the reporters and journalists. (-- removed HTML --) (-- removed HTML --) The woman they had been talking to had been rudely pushed aside by reporters, her hair is faintly seen behind the various figures that had formed. The reporters and journalist stare at and hammer Zeriya with

Lucius does not remember whose arms are carrying him, or whose shoulder his head lays against. He does not remember how he ended up here, in these arms. He does not remember where he is. Everything in his brain is chilled syrup. Lucius does know his mouth tastes bitter and throbs in time with his heartbeat, and that his head is heavy, so very, very heavy, with pain. His lids are too heavy to lift, like the rest of him, dreamily attached with vague stitches of feeling and weight. “This is your

New York City, 2028: a time where the greatest mathematician ever lived to predict the worlds end. John, the mathematician, was a twenty eight years old man who had catoptrophobia, fear of what he might see. His father, on the other hand, worked in the police department directing crime. His partners Jack, a physicist, and Johnna, a mechanical engineer, worked with him at NASA. They always were there for each other to help solve theories of space. Everything was going well for them, until Jack noticed

Perhaps the oddest part of moving in with her uncle was the archaic list of rules that outlined how all house guests should act. It was handed to her shortly after decorating her room and presented with minimal conversation before he hustled back to his study. The office itself wasn't off limits like the mysterious room connected to the wine cellar, but the girl couldn't even construct a narrative that would remotely grant her access under plausible means. With the self-care rules and the strange