My First Shot - Original Writing

So i go to bed, the next morning i set off to survive with a knife he gives his opponent and he gets a pistol, a pack of dogs, and ivan. I started walking in circles, making a bunch of tracks, hoping it would confuse him. 2 days past by of us setting traps for each other and on my 3rd day he almost got me. I killed one of his dogs and ivan with my traps. While i was getting away from him, i jumped into the water making it look like i gave up. So he went home thinking he won the game and at twelve the day was over he went into his room and there i was waiting for

'That damn mercenary! He got a reaction out of me.' I furrow my eyebrows together in vexation. 'I won't allow him to tease me like that again.' I sighed, remembering he was now personal bodyguard and I silently curse my father for insisting I have one. 'Now I'm stuck with him until they defeat the men from the west.. great.' I shaking my head, I clench my hand with determination. 'I'll show him his advances towards me are fruitless!'

When I almost reached the door, I felt something at my foot, a broken hourglass, that had ran out of sand. Shaking and suddenly bursting into a cold sweat, I furiously jammed the key in. It felt like an eternity, but finally I succeeded. Pushing the door open, and wiping a faceful of sweat from my face, I felt this wave of aromas crash over me. Putting the key in my pocket(FORESHADOWING) and then entering the cellar I tried to calm down. I tried to look for the cask of Amontillado that I bought several weeks ago. There were millions of wines in that cellar (HYPERBOLE). But at last I found it. It felt, lighter, and after opening it I realised that it was empty. I wasn’t enraged, just tired. I made my way to the door, suddenly feeling drowsy. Then I became a little bit nauseous and shaky. Looking into the darkness, I saw, darkness. So I picked up my dying torch and put it up and almost yelled “Who’s there?”. There was no reply but a figure seemed to appear in the darkness. It was carrying a scythe and it started towards me. I fell back, and was caught by the wall, slamming my head against it and dropping my torch. The figure whispered in the dark, “Free the fortunate one, for be warned fate will find

I have the same problem, just like you with writing the first draft. I know there is a memoir within me, but I didn’t know how or where to start. It was not so easy for me to write a memoir about sixteen years I spent in different three countries. I’ve used too much time thinking about the events before starting. What I like most about the rough draft is that it doesn't have to be a stressful experience. I have the same problem, just like you with writing the first draft. I know there is a memoir within me, but I didn’t know how or where to start. It was not so easy to me to write a memoir about sixteen years I spent in different three countries. I’ve used too much time thinking about the events before starting. What I like mostly about the

Through a large crowd, I spot him. His stature hasn't changed a bit since I last saw him. I begin to approach him, to congratulate him on his great success, but I am cut off by the castle guards. I understand their confusion as I am not the most formally dressed person at this party, so I begin to negotiate with them about allowing me to stay. Unfortunately, they deny my plea and force me out of the building. Just as we arrive to the threshold I hear a shout, unintelligible at first, then a more recognizable voice the second time.

The night had been long and difficult on both my mind and body. Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered that if those rogues had chosen, I'd have died in my sleep. Every noise I heard; the creaking of trees; snapping of twigs; shuffling of leaves, and I was sure the rogues had found me. Each time, I'd sit up instantly, weapon in hand, ready to fight to the death, and each time nothing happened, nothing came charging out of the gloom to end my life.

Shoot, Shoot, Shoot we’re going to get caught. O no they are walking to the car. Now they’re knocking on the window. Grandpa don’t… ugh Why!? He just had to roll the window down. Oh lord, he’s now talking to him. How? That seriously worked! They believed that! Grandpa the only dog you have is sitting in the front seat because she gets “car sick”. We are never going dumpster again, especially behind

There he is I can see him pacing back and forth with the knife he stabbed me with in the very beginning, when I made my first and only mistake I can think of at this moment. He stopped pacing back and forth and is now standing between me and the door. There was a door separating two beings full of regret and malice towards the other, me for not killing him and him for not killing me, I can hear his calm breathing behind my thick red door along with a slight clicking noise but I don’t know what it is and this brings me anxiety which causes me to smile and fidget. I want to open the door standing between us to know what the clicking is but at the same time there is someone trying to kill me on the other side of the door, my hand shakes with anxiousness and excitement at the same time and I am not sure what to do because if I open the door he can easily kill me but if I don’t this cycle will never end. I open the door to see Kota standing there with a gun that he quickly presses to my chest, he has a twisted grin on his face as his finger shakes against the trigger which gives me the moment to flip the script and grab the gun from his shaky hands and press it to his chest

The scent of salt water tickles my nose as I enter the small town of Kiros. I smile, it’s good to revisit the town I grew up in. I’ve been living in the … unique servants corridors of the Swinfield Manor. However, weeks ago I left and I hope never to return. My town has a humble population but today the place is mobbed with people. They’ve all come for the festival, but I have come for different reason. To meet the woman with the wings, to kill the woman who ended my father. I’ve been planning her death for weeks and I know I’ll enjoy the satisfaction of killing the one who cursed me and ripped my life into thousands of tiny shreds.

A deep, loud sound echoing across my home. It can only mean one thing: Run for the manor. I clutch my basket full of nuts as I race through the trees back to the main grounds. The horn would only be sounded if the absolute worst happened - we were being attacked. As I near the main grounds, I can hear the shrieks of the others as they drop what they are doing and being to run. It may be my imagination, but I think I hear horses pounding against the earth. Just a little further. I hear something crash into the fields behind me. Before I can see what it was, the lord of the manor streaks past me with full armor on and his sword at his side. It seems his battles were not successful...

After I explored the castle it was almost dark my only decision is to stay here. I had the creeps the whole time I could not go to sleep.

He told me to walk because it would save money and gas and that it was only a couple of blocks away. So I put two pairs of socks on, jeans, two jackets, and my muddy sneakers. I put my hood up and my head down. I walked along the cracked sidewalk with cars rushing by adding wind to my shivering body. I stared at my feet as each footstep had to have its own block of the sidewalk. I attempted to avoid stepping on any of the cracks just out of boredom, not out of superstition. I talked in my head about last night’s game, the blown calls and the bandwagon fans, and how my dad was going for the other team, as usual. After a while, I ended up thinking about why I chose to wear my red shirt. It’s weird how the mind can wander between two things that seemingly have no relation. Anyway, I eventually stopped thinking and looked up to observe my surrounding. Trees from both sides of the road seemed to be stretching out their limbs over the road, reaching across to the trees on the other side like lovers separated. The gray clouds visible through the branches of the arch of trees casted a shadow of death over the entire town. The dead leaves just lay there helpless, and the leaves that remained on the trees held on loosely. And then the wind blew, and leaves detached, floating down to join the dead. The leaves, once held up by the trees to be revered by all of nature, now had disappeared into the degradation of the

Pomacanchi, Peru. You’re probably thinking “is that some strange village in a strange country”? The answer is yes, this village is a place that is very dear to my heart. It is magical, beautiful, strange and scary all at the same time. I have travelled to this remote village twice, to do mission work. Located on top of a mountain in the Andes mountain range, this village is a mixture of Peruvian culture and stray dogs. Therefore, each day in this place is an adventure and with each new day comes new challenges.

He was my first love. His high cheekbones and dark complexion accentuated his piercing blue eyes, resembling the stars reflecting on the Adriatic Sea. They radiated the compassion, kindness, and gentleness he was teeming with. His hands were dry and rough, revealing the years of strenuous work he endured, nevertheless they were my asylum, the one and only place I felt at home. I was lucky enough to call this man Dedo, which, in Serbo-Croatian, means Grandpa.

So this is my life, some say my name should’ve changed but I think not. My mother as a little girl was named Djeserit and in turn I had gotten Isis. When I was born, life was different as my mother and father were egyptians so in turn, I was egyptian but we were royals, so we were the rulers of Egypt. We could have anything we could imagine, it was nice and fantabulous.