I am an enthusiastic writer with experience in writing for various media. My main strength lies in storytelling, but I am confident in my writing skills for academic and commercial purposes.
Aoife tiptoed across the cell. She didn’t have to though, for hardly anything could be heard in the thunder of Uncle Pot’s snore. She called him Uncle Pot, ‘Pot’ as in ‘potato’, for he looked much like an oversized potato halfway through its transformation into the human guise – if there existed such a magical potato, that is. Every time Aoife saw him, she couldn’t help wondering what a real potato tasted like. This plant seemed to be what people around here grew and ate most. Not Aoife...
EXT. STREET - DAY
EMMA, a woman who is in her 30s but looks 27, is walking down the street, branded shopping bags in her hands swinging in sync with the confident strides of her heels.
Not too far ahead, in front of a block of flat, PAULA, a woman in her late 30s who definitely looks her age, is taking bags of groceries out of the boot of her car. She fumbles and drops one of the bags.
She mutters as she tries to chase after the escaping apples and onions.
An apple rolls toward Emma. She picks it up.
Older than any fairy tale was the legend of Hal’Aga, a great sword born from a crack in the darkness of the Void. It is said that the sword was actually a living creature bearing in it the power of the darkest magic one may know – the power to take down enemies with one slash, to heal all the wounds, and to stay forever young. In a remote Northern village lived the mad but knowledgeable magician, Cornelius, with his little angelic disabled son, Colin... Read more