Who you looking at
Darren ShanShe was a beautiful woman." Gavner sighed, tracing the outline of one of the elephants. "She just had very bad taste in underwear …"
"And in boyfriends," I added impishly.
Mr. Crepsley burst into laughter at that
Stichwörter: humor cirque-du-freak crepsley gavner
To be added when I get it cause I just realised I don't have it at the moment.
Darren ShanBran,” I sob. “You have to go.” He just smiles. “Bran! You must!” Again the smile. He won't leave. He'll be my faithful friend forever. He'd rather die by my side than skip free without me. I return the smile. “Very well,” I sigh and reach out a hand. Bran takes it, expecting only my touch. But what he gets on top of that is the last of my magic. A swift, improvised spell. I reach into his mind and send an image into his thoughts, of the hole, him dashing out of it, racing through the cave and not coming back. And then, with all the magical force I can muster, I yell at him— “Run fast!
Darren ShanStichwörter: magic bran bec run-fast
Watching the hole in the ever-fading light. It’s the size of a baby now, closing all the time. Narrower and narrower, until there’s barely room to fit an arm through. I’m thinking about quenching the light before the hole shuts—this is just torture—when a face suddenly appears. It’s Bran. The spell has passed and he’s come back. He wants to get through, to be with me. But the hole’s too small. He punches it, pulls at it, slips his fingers into the gap and strains with all his might—but it’s no good. The rock continues to grind together. The hole gets smaller, the width of a finger now.
At the last moment, Bran presses his mouth up to the hole and roars with raw pain and loss, at the top of his voice, “Bec!” It’s the only time he’s ever uttered my name. Anyone’s name. His anguished cry stabs at my heart and tears spring to my eyes. I open my mouth to shout his own name back, to offer whatever small shred of comfort I can… but then the rock closes all the way and a fierce rumbling drowns out the echoes of Bran’s cry.
I stare at the solid rock. My mouth closes. The light fades. Darkness.
Stichwörter: depressing bran bec runfast
There's something different about you," he says.
"I've started styling my hair differently," I laugh.
"Oh. I thought it was that you were three feet taller, a hell of a lot broader, look like a werewolf, and are naked expect for that bit of cloth around your waist. But you're right - it's the hair.
Stichwörter: humor
Man wasn't made to share the universe with gods. Their ways are not meant for the humble likes of us. But we've decoded some of their secrets regardless. Like worms, we've grabbed on to the talons of eagles and learnt some small truths and means of flight. But we can never really fly. We try, and succeed to a certain extent, but the fall is always—will always be—there. To be a druid is to embrace death, dance with it a while and finally fall prey to it. That is why we'll never rule this world. We have the power to bend all men to our whim, but are forever pushing ourselves further, trying to fly higher… and falling.
Darren ShanStichwörter: darren-shan drust
To be a druid is to embrace death, dance with it a while, and finally fall prey to it. That is why we'll never rule this world. We have the power to bend all men to our whim, but are forever pushing ourselves further,trying to fly higher...and falling
Darren ShanNo.
You know this is wrong and you want to feel better about it.
You don't want to admit your as ruthless and monstrous as the demons you claim to hate.
Of course I have nightmares-Who doesn't?
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