Peeking through the window her surprise turned to horror...I woke up with a start, something was in my room. The wardrobe doors opened and it came out of my wardrobe."Witches don't exist!" My gran's words echoed around my head as the horrific visage gurned at me through my bedroom window.Keeping watch at the side of the ship, George was tiring; his eyes weary from constantly searching the horizon, were they also playing tricks on him? What was that waving from the rocks? The two coins in his pocket clinked together as he stumbled down the cold pavement, the holes in his shoes turning his feet into blocks of ice. His heart was warmed though in the knowledge that he was rich.The phone rang. "Hello," I said, "Hello." No one was there. I hung up. All the lights went out...Wrapped up warm against the icy fingers of dusk, the caretaker closed the cemetery gates, who was that watching him? Hundreds of eyes peered at me through the darkness in the alley. How many cats where there? Why were they all here together? I heard the music as I entered the room, but all that was there was a violin, lay there on it's back on the bare floorboards.It was the day the moon fell. I couldn't believe a word he told me any more and why had he brought me here?Cold and wet, tired and exhausted she made her way along the path through the forest. Everything stopped, everything a statue all around me. Frozen in time. "Help me!" Help me!" Came the call from behind the steel door. "Welcome to the future!" saidving, the teacher as she removed the sheet with a flourish revealing what had been hidden beneath. My next door neighbours, The Johnsons, were all asleep in their coffins when I climbed the fence to get the ball. It moved, why was it moving? That should not have been moving, well not on it's own anyway. I hadn't seen the door before. It wasn't there last night. Cautiously, I turned the handle.She scratched his face from the photograph. She would get her revenge. It was a bright, frosty morning. The pavement glistened like a carpet of crushed diamonds in the early morning sunshine. by Debbie ReynoldsAs she walked along the street the tiny dragon in her pocket stirred restlessly. By Dot HallamJust after he died, he sat up.His metal mask shone in the sunlight, he prayed that this would not be his last day. 'I pushed open the old creaky door and looked inside. What a sight met my eyes!' It was spring 2014 when I first realised I could breathe under water.
Iambic pentameter is a metric parameter that defines rhythm and the emphasis of syllables in a line of a poem. Iambic is a beat with a combination of one unstressed syllable with one stressed syllable. While pentameter is a rhythm composition of five metrics. So Iambic pentameter has a line of five non-stressed-stressed syllables.
Shakespeare’s “Sonnet 100” has fourteen-line in Iambic pentameter which the emphasis contributes to highlight the important words and the rhythm intensifies the emotional impact, which are in these two options:
The stresses highlight important words and concepts.
The regular rhythm intensifies the emotional impact.
Answer:
climate change, social justice, wildlife/marine conservation
Explanation:
Answer:
Explanation:
Natural sources of light include the sun, stars, fire, and electricity in storms. There are even some animals and plants that can create their own light, such as fireflies, jellyfish, and mushrooms. This is called bioluminescence. Artificial light is created by humans
