Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Black Linings by Jen Appell (best motivational books of all time .txt) 📖
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silence between us, only interrupted by the crackling of the small flames. Her gaze was intense.
“Draco, what do you need? What did he tell you to do?” she whispered. Her voice was soft yet husky, laced with concern and eagerness.
“To give him Harry Potter,” I whispered. Tilly gasped. I could feel a lump in my throat, choking me, causing me to cough out a strangled sob. I closed my eyes in embarrassment and horror at the prospect of handing him over to Voldemort, to Death.
I felt Tilly’s comforting arms wrap around my trembling body and I buried my face in her shoulder. Against my will, tears rolled down my face. Tilly let me cry for a while before pulling back, holding me by the shoulders. Her eyes, now moist, searched mine, for what I don’t know.
“You can do it, Draco. I know it’s hard, but it’s your head or his,” Tilly encouraged. I think she tried to make me feel better. She failed. I pulled away violently and sobbed loudly. I fell to my knees and covered my face with my shaking hands.
“No, I can’t! Don’t you understand? If I could, I would die for him! I…I love him, Tilly…” I whispered. We both knew this to be true for a while, but I have never, never uttered those words.
Tilly was silent for several minutes while I cried myself into silence. When my tears had stopped, we sat in the gloomy backroom of her shop for an hour, both wondering what the future would bring. Imprint
“Draco, what do you need? What did he tell you to do?” she whispered. Her voice was soft yet husky, laced with concern and eagerness.
“To give him Harry Potter,” I whispered. Tilly gasped. I could feel a lump in my throat, choking me, causing me to cough out a strangled sob. I closed my eyes in embarrassment and horror at the prospect of handing him over to Voldemort, to Death.
I felt Tilly’s comforting arms wrap around my trembling body and I buried my face in her shoulder. Against my will, tears rolled down my face. Tilly let me cry for a while before pulling back, holding me by the shoulders. Her eyes, now moist, searched mine, for what I don’t know.
“You can do it, Draco. I know it’s hard, but it’s your head or his,” Tilly encouraged. I think she tried to make me feel better. She failed. I pulled away violently and sobbed loudly. I fell to my knees and covered my face with my shaking hands.
“No, I can’t! Don’t you understand? If I could, I would die for him! I…I love him, Tilly…” I whispered. We both knew this to be true for a while, but I have never, never uttered those words.
Tilly was silent for several minutes while I cried myself into silence. When my tears had stopped, we sat in the gloomy backroom of her shop for an hour, both wondering what the future would bring. Imprint
Publication Date: 11-27-2009
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