He was bold, you could tell, not by the way he walked, talked, or even by the way he shouted at the peasants below him, but by what he was wearing. A dark, long black cloak that caught in the wind as he strutted past his enemies as they bowed before him, black goggles you could not see his eyes through, wild white locks, and shiny black boots that glistened as they caught the slivers of light shining through the night. He was incredible. He stretched out his hand to grab the powerful wand, not yet touching it, when I noticed a gaping scar on his left hand. I was so in awe that I could not stand. Would this be the end of life as we know it?
I hope this helps, this was taken from one of the stories I am currently writing. :)
Have a wonderful day!
To be born, or at any rate bred, in a hand-bag, whether it had handles or not, seems to me ... possible, and to make a definite effort to produce at any rate one parent, of either sex, before the season is quite over. Jack. Well, I don't see how I could possibly manage to do that. I can produce ... It is in my dressing-room at home.
Answer:
In The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor there is no death and resurrection but the theme of an individual becoming lost in a strange and frightening land and then returning home is central and this would have resonated with an ancient Egyptian audience.
Explanation: