She took a deep breath as she stared into her own eyes in the mirror. The only light in the bathroom was from a candle, set on the corner of the sink counter. The power was out, so even if she flipped the light switch, nothing would happen. She was home alone, only, a few moments ago, she'd heard someone walking around in her house. Someone that was not supposed to be there. She had locked herself in her bathroom to try and calm down, to no avail. No matter how many times she told herself she was only imagining things, she would never believe it.
As silently as possible, she pressed her ear to the door and held her breath. When she was about to move back from the door, she heard the walking again, this time followed by a voice. "Ellana, darling, why are you hiding from me? I know you're home. Come on out...I'm not here to hurt you." She didn't recognize the voice at all, but they clearly knew her name. There's no way this was actually happening right now...and yet, there she stood, holding her breath in the bathroom, hiding from a stranger who knew far to much about her.
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You did say anything, and you <em>did</em> say "even a story". So, here you go! Little horror story made up on the spot. Hope it does you well!
Commons
“How did Faulkner pull it off?” is a question many a fledgling writer has asked themselves while struggling through a period of apprenticeship like that novelist John Barth describes in his 1999 talk "My Faulkner." Barth “reorchestrated” his literary heroes, he says, “in search of my writerly self... downloading my innumerable predecessors as only an insatiable green apprentice can.” Surely a great many writers can relate when Barth says, “it was Faulkner at his most involuted and incantatory who most enchanted me.” For many a writer, the Faulknerian sentence is an irresistible labyrinth. His syntax has a way of weaving itself into the unconscious, emerging as fair to middling imitation.
While studying at Johns Hopkins University, Barth found himself writing about his native Eastern Shore Maryland in a pastiche style of “middle Faulkner and late Joyce.” He may have won some praise from a visiting young William Styron, “but the finished opus didn’t fly—for one thing, because Faulkner intimately knew his Snopses and Compsons and Sartorises, as I did not know my made-up denizens of the Maryland marsh.” The advice to write only what you know may not be worth much as a universal commandment. But studying the way that Faulkner wrote when he turned to the subjects he knew best provides an object lesson on how powerful a literary resource intimacy can be
Answer: No woman while I live shall govern me.
Explanation:
After the guard tells Creon that Antigone buried Polyneices, despite the proclamation against that, she acknowledges that it is true, claiming that it is the order of the gods to perform funeral rites for the dead. She even accuses Creon of being a fool.
Creon is angry at her stubbornness, but especially at her having that attitude as a woman, which is evident when he says "no woman while I live shall govern me."
Answer:
The computer worked fine until I began playing music through it. Then it slowed down to a halt and froze. It was really frustrating. I just wanted it to work!
Explanation:
This is what we need to know about the Simple Past Tense to answer this question.
1. The verb to be presents two forms in the past: was and were. The form was is used for the persons I, he, she, and it. Were is used for the rest.
2. Regular verbs in the past will have -d, -ed, or -ied added to their ending. The ones that end in e receive -d. The ones that end in consonant + y drop the -y and receive -ied. And the rest receives -ed.
3. Irregular verbs in the past have each a different form. There isn't much we can do but memorize them. For example: begin - began; freeze - froze; go - went; speak - spoke.
Answer:
its b
Explanation:
neither man graduated from college
