Rettelser

Once again I found myself trying to improve my English writing skill by using Robert E. Howard’s work.

I just want to make clear that the following is just an exercise in which I took Howard’s tales and narrated them from my perspective, inventing very little .

I would really love to receive any feedback you can give me, guys  thanks for reading my exercise!

Entering the Hall of Whispers-Part Two The whole scene communicated that something was wrong: terribly wrong.

Heimdul was afraid, he didn’t know why, but he was literally terrified.

An uncommon feeling for those of his race, born to be fighters.

He kept wandering what the purpose of that miserable king had been and also if he really had deserved to be doomed for eternity in that hall full of wrath and tears.

Nearby the throne, on the left hand side and before the Skeleton King who laid dormant, a deep black shadow was twitching, moving around the throne area like a trustful soldier, a ultimate protection against some sort of perilous enemy.

In the quietness of the hall a horse came trotting from a side door that Heimdul didn’t see before.

A graceful white steed, one of a kind.

A somnambulist animal who gaited slowly toward the throne’s direction.

As the horse stopped his graceful ride, a black dog raised from the shadow that surrounded the wooden throne: the dog was black as midnight, black as a pitch and obscure as the darkness he came from.

He stepped forward descending the flight of stairs before the throne and turned around looking in the direction of Heimdul, he was undoubtedly protecting his master from who he assumed would be a potential threat.

All of a sudden the Skeleton figure got up from the throne and immediately touched the dog: his hand was skeletal with almost no human flesh on the fingers and though he meant the dog no harm, his hold was firm and strong.

In that weird theatrical act Heimdul was nothing more that a passive spectator, lost in the vicissitudes of events whose meaning was far beyond his understanding.

The right hand of the Skeleton king had a ring on his middle finger: shining in the tiny glimmer of the hall, the ring revelled a red stone in its centre of a shape of a lotus flower whit several carvings around it.

“He will not harm us, Sairen!” The Skeleton King said calming the dog.

His tone of voice was very low and almost imperceptible, a whisper.

“Come” he said, referring now to the white horse- “Come here, Atali my Love, my frozen flame!” And as he talked the horse turned into a beautiful woman with red locks, naked and irresistible.

The Skeleton King and the frozen beauty kissed passionately with the indomitable fury of an old love that goes beyond centuries and will never fade.

With an irresistible fleer of his skinny face, the Skeleton King said softly, almost whispering: “ It appears that an old friend of yours has answered our call as well” And then pointed the same entrance from where Atali had come before.

Heimdul heard steps coming from that passage and he exclaimed: “By Odin!!”.

The Skeleton King began to laugh loudly and deeply, holding Atali harder than before....