Creative Writing: What In The Eight Realms

"By the keeper!" The burning man proclaimed and jumped back. Vishah looked up at the man, man was holding a torch that's what had blinded him. But the man himself, glowed. As if lit from within. Vishah peered at the man teying to find an origin to the strange light. The more he looked at it the more the void grew restless. It growled greadly, that light could be his, it's power, its beauty.

The stirrings had returned, and he felt a little guilty and embarrassed about the pleasurable dreams that came to him as he slept. And his new, heightened feelings permeated a greater realm than simply his sleep. But he knew he couldn’t go back to the world of no feeling that he had lived in so long.

Stuffed between two pillows,my head was still and my breathing was warm and hard,with the prickling feeling of guilt covering me like a blanket.I ached to sob, but my eyes wouldn't succumb,they seemed adement on keeping my irises dry and stinging from perpetual burning.

Becoming more aware of its existence and strengthening its sense of self. It was a grey small tube with many spikes growing from the top and bottom. At the back of which, imbedded in a large pillar, was a small red stone that glowed and pulsed slightly. It sat and pondered what that was, what it was, and what was its purpose. On one end a glowing stone on the other a light show out of which it could only make out the blurriest of images.

An immense pressure bore in her head as she slowly awoke from her midday slumber, her daydreams slowly fading away from her mind. Reality sunk in, and she found herself awake. Dim light shone through the windows and it pierced her eyes, worse than a thousand needles ever could. Her mental screams sounded that of countless condemned souls, shrieking for life

Good. I touch the icon and drag it. Oh, it’s following my finger’s movement. Alright, let’s see… I drag it to the slot that indicates my right hand. Immediately, the bokutõ shows up on my hand with a quick white light.

I couldn't help but wonder who had made those markings, and how were they surviving in the perils of the outside?

The night air was heavy with silence. Clouds drifted across a calm sky, and a full moon shone in the distance. In a small hut on the outskirts of the valley, an old man lay in bed, awake in the peaceful slumber of the village. His breaths came in rattling gasps, his forehead burned, and his joints felt stiff with pain. He shifted on the blankets, his withered hands clenched in fists as he tried to suppress the wave of bitter memories coming to him. His life had been nothing more than work, loss, tragedy. He remembered all of his hope, his ambition, in his youth, and he smiled bitterly. No one would remember him as the man that he had once hoped he would become. Now, as his breathing became heavier and he felt himself fading on the brink of

I was frightened; I would perspire and tremble when awoken from creepy dreams or from visualizing images in my room. Most nights sleepless, and my daylight hours becoming more challenging to mange, I had become an insomniac and struggling with meaning.

I woke up, like a corpse rises from the grave, my bloodshot eyes flooded with tears. The cool air lulled my throat, dissipating the faint memory of a raging fire and loathsome vultures

The rhythmic sound reverberated in his eardrums, deafening all other noise around him. It overpowered the slowly diminishing thump, thump, thump, which had first piqued his interest.

He feels as light as a feather. The sounds of war vanished away. His splitting headache, no more. Contrary to the laws of nature, he drifts slowly upwards. Then a voice in the distance ahead of him

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

“Ōmaeda, round up the troops and seek out and destroy the rest of these Bounts. I’ll take care of the one near the Tenth.”

“Hey!” Kankri looks up. “You oka…” The other troll stops at the sight of the cherry red blood on Kankri’s knee. Kankri started to back away, thinking that the seadweller was going to hurt him like the