Literary Devices: Catching the Signal...

Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her skirt, took a deep breath and walked towards where he was sitting. He was sitting in his tunic leaning his back against an apple tree, green and healthy in the spring. Angela walked towards him, her plated skirt glinting like fire. The boy turned his eyes to her. He had such intelligent eyes, those of a wolf.

“What do you want?” He asked, staring at her with his uncaring, amber eyes.

Angela drew a breath and stumbled. It couldn’t be him. The day gave way to a white screen, and suddenly, she was in the past, looking at the world like a bird would. A young girl was training with a sword. She looked no older than about 8 years old. A young boy with amber eyes and dark umber hair to match scowled at her. After all of his work to get here, some girl had been accepted?! It wasn’t fair!

“How is it that a girl like you got to be here? I’ve worked years for this, and suddenly, someone like you gets to be accepted immediately? It’s not fair!” He shouted at her, storming off in fury.

The flashback fades off into white again, and then grows dark, transforming into a horrid scene.

A man with dark umber hair runs through the smoke, adorned in plate mail armor. The wind howls its rage at him. It was all his fault. This place would be reduced to cinders, and it would all be his fault. Even the trees are bent at him, frowning with anger…