- Joined
- Feb 25, 2005
- Messages
- 230
Hullo!
I wrote this short novel for an english-class homework we got about a half a year ago. We all got the same picture, and were supposed to write the story out of the inspiration we could get of it.
Heres the picture:
Dreamfall
And heres the short novel:
Shira screamed. Why would they do this? As she leaned over her lifeless mother and father anger grew in her, the heart pounding fiercely. She didn’t understand, why couldn’t they just left? They got all the items of value in their hut, and yet they slaughtered her parents. Shira repeated to herself that it wasn’t her fault; she couldn’t have done anything while she was by the river. But somehow the feeling of guilt didn’t want to let go. Maybe she should have been at home, protecting her old parents. Everyone knew this was dangerous times. She took her mothers necklace and placed it where it belonged, on her neck, a symbol of her family that would protect her from foes.
It was cold outside, and grey clouds dominated the sky as Shira stepped out of her home. She was beautiful, a young woman with long black hair and dark, dreamy eyes. But now these where filled with hatred, and she looked dangerous with her sword hanging on her right side and clenched fists as if she was about to punch anyone who came too near.
She looked around, and noticed the marks of hooves in the ground. The bandits had ridden south, and they had probably set up a camp a few miles away. Shira started to run out in the wilderness. If she was lucky she would catch them up by nightfall.
The grey landscape passed her like a blurred dream. There where neither hunger nor tiredness haunting her, the blood thirst kept her going. She knew this place; the wasteland was where she hunted, as she did now.
Just as the suns last rays lay their weak hands on the lands she saw several dots of light not too far away. And after a couple of minutes she had to bend over and walk more quietly, as she approached the camp. There were two tents, and between those she saw some bonfires and also the shapes of several men. They where obviously quite content with the catch of the day, she heard them talk in a glad mood and from time to time they laughed.
Shira moved closer to the two tents. She could count up to seven men. First she thought that she could be killed in a fair battle versus these, but that didn’t matter. And when one of them fell when he was simply trying to stand up again, she didn’t think of it at all. They were unarmed, and she doubted they were sober.
With no hesitation she raced at the men, sword held in charging position, eyes burning with rage, and her necklace shining with an odd white light. She didn’t scream.
The men took about three seconds to consider the situation and their chances. Then they panicked. In a blink of an eye two of the men were released from the burden of their heads. Her sword was a shiny, white storm, and the bandits didn’t stand a chance. She penetrated the bodies of three men who started running. One of them started running away, but he didn’t got far until she had cut his legs off and then driven her sword deep into his chest.
She turned around and saw the last of them standing with a broadsword in his hands. She walked towards him. He shivered in fear, and when she was about 10 feet away from him he dropped the sword. He fell on his knees and looked into the dark dust below, avoiding her eyes. She walked to him, and then let her sword cut through his neck.
Then she ran, she ran far away. And at the top of the highland cliffs, she threw hersel into the dark waters, never to be seen again. It is said that by nightfall you can see a broken necklace in the waters. The one that couldn’t protect Shira from herself.
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I wrote this short novel for an english-class homework we got about a half a year ago. We all got the same picture, and were supposed to write the story out of the inspiration we could get of it.
Heres the picture:
Dreamfall
And heres the short novel:
Vengeance
Shira screamed. Why would they do this? As she leaned over her lifeless mother and father anger grew in her, the heart pounding fiercely. She didn’t understand, why couldn’t they just left? They got all the items of value in their hut, and yet they slaughtered her parents. Shira repeated to herself that it wasn’t her fault; she couldn’t have done anything while she was by the river. But somehow the feeling of guilt didn’t want to let go. Maybe she should have been at home, protecting her old parents. Everyone knew this was dangerous times. She took her mothers necklace and placed it where it belonged, on her neck, a symbol of her family that would protect her from foes.
It was cold outside, and grey clouds dominated the sky as Shira stepped out of her home. She was beautiful, a young woman with long black hair and dark, dreamy eyes. But now these where filled with hatred, and she looked dangerous with her sword hanging on her right side and clenched fists as if she was about to punch anyone who came too near.
She looked around, and noticed the marks of hooves in the ground. The bandits had ridden south, and they had probably set up a camp a few miles away. Shira started to run out in the wilderness. If she was lucky she would catch them up by nightfall.
The grey landscape passed her like a blurred dream. There where neither hunger nor tiredness haunting her, the blood thirst kept her going. She knew this place; the wasteland was where she hunted, as she did now.
Just as the suns last rays lay their weak hands on the lands she saw several dots of light not too far away. And after a couple of minutes she had to bend over and walk more quietly, as she approached the camp. There were two tents, and between those she saw some bonfires and also the shapes of several men. They where obviously quite content with the catch of the day, she heard them talk in a glad mood and from time to time they laughed.
Shira moved closer to the two tents. She could count up to seven men. First she thought that she could be killed in a fair battle versus these, but that didn’t matter. And when one of them fell when he was simply trying to stand up again, she didn’t think of it at all. They were unarmed, and she doubted they were sober.
With no hesitation she raced at the men, sword held in charging position, eyes burning with rage, and her necklace shining with an odd white light. She didn’t scream.
The men took about three seconds to consider the situation and their chances. Then they panicked. In a blink of an eye two of the men were released from the burden of their heads. Her sword was a shiny, white storm, and the bandits didn’t stand a chance. She penetrated the bodies of three men who started running. One of them started running away, but he didn’t got far until she had cut his legs off and then driven her sword deep into his chest.
She turned around and saw the last of them standing with a broadsword in his hands. She walked towards him. He shivered in fear, and when she was about 10 feet away from him he dropped the sword. He fell on his knees and looked into the dark dust below, avoiding her eyes. She walked to him, and then let her sword cut through his neck.
Then she ran, she ran far away. And at the top of the highland cliffs, she threw hersel into the dark waters, never to be seen again. It is said that by nightfall you can see a broken necklace in the waters. The one that couldn’t protect Shira from herself.
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