Creating a Character in Third Person

Henry broke into a light jog, the small sand granules compressing underneath him with each step. Looking over his shoulder habitually for the guards as he began to speed up and crack into a sprint to the soft tinkling sound of swords and chain-mail in the distance. Like a small steam train, his warm puffs polluted the brisk cold air of Ol' Seacliff as he ran further and further down the beach towards a small path that led up onto the jagged cliff and past the graveyard. The guards were gaining on him as small specks in the distance slowly morphed into a brutal amalgamation of man and armour. Henry was not a young man; restricted by age, lack of exercise and the silver spoon. His legs began to jelly to a point of unbearable pain and inability to continue up the colossal staircase before him up to Ol' Seacliff. Like a deer loosing it's will to run, like a turtle loosing it's will to live, Henry sank to his knees as his kingdom menacingly towered over him.

The guards caught up, breathing heavily, but with a drive to serve. They dragged Henry to his feet and like a helpless rag doll, towed him up the staircase to Ol' Seacliff. With his bowed and feet in a crumbled mess dragging along behind him, Henry was greeted at the graveyard. The grave was already open, the dirt precariously piled to one side with a shovel almost mockingly pointing out the top. The two guards threw him to the ground with a clatter of chain mail followed by a deathly silence. A silence, uninterrupted by no one, by nothing. It was over.

Related Texts

Poem - "We Are Going"

Film/Script - "The Last Samurai"

Possible short story as well?

HSC Belonging Collage

Creating Two Characters (Kyle & a Dwarf)

Mr. Smooth they call him; he's tall, a unit in the gym, a ladies man - Kyle is perfect. From his chiselled jaw line to his meticulously carved facial hair on the side of his face like its a permanent feature that never grows, Kyle is to be envied. Me on the other hand defines his polar opposite; if parallel universes existed and he made a mistake in the other one - I'd be him. I glance away from Mr. Smooth as my eyes dart across the office cubicles attempting to be distracted. I hop down from my chair and pull my pants up and re-tightened my belt across a waist line I wouldn't say I'm proud of. I trundle along through the office, making eye contact with people and occasionally a nod before coming to the end of the hall. Before me stood a large frosted glass window and a door. A door to my bosses office, a door to my promotion, a door to escape the mediocre grinds of 'cubicle workers'. But I am too late, sure enough Kyle's tall handsome figure could be made out through the frosted glass, animated with excitement and laughter. I hang my head in disappointment and start to walk away, what place does a fifty-seven year old man with seckel syndrome primordial dwarfism have in an office anyway?

Kyle - Perfect, arrogant, handsome
Dwarf - Depressed, jealous, contrasted to Kyle

Concept explored: Discrimination in the workplace.

Character information found here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Primordial_dwarfism#Types_of_primordial_dwarfism

http://www.losangelesemploymentlawyerblog.com/2008/02/little_people_discrimination_i.html

Setting A Scene (A Place to Belong Pt.II)

It was morning; a gunshot fired skyward as yells, screams and cries broke out across the camp. Life here was impossible, as in people ceased to exist. The smell of death gripped the air in a tenacious manner, making even the guards uncomfortable. With no solid floor to sleep on, I drag myself to a sitting position as little bugs and dead grass blades rain off my shirt down to the ground consecrated in bereavement. A guard juts the barrel of his gun into my back - I freeze with fear, but by some miracle my legs autonomously bring me to a standing position. The guard pushes me forward through the camp, through the stench of genocide and through my friends, my family and my people. I had come to 'umkommen' or in english; to die, to perish and to become extinct. There it was, looming twenty or thirty meters ahead of me. The blood stained iron door of the 'showers' - If only I were to be so naive.

Setting A Scene (A Place to Belong)

Tall jagged cliff faces stare down at me on either side of the valley as I walk through the undergrowth of the forest. Little crackles and crunches come from under my feet as sticks, leaves, grubs and bugs succumb to my foots' imprint on the lightly trodden track laid out before me. In the distance I can see a waterfall crashing over the cliffs down into the base of the river sending little droplets of fresh spring water into the air. Little rainbows form around the waterfalls liquid joint to the river as the sun slowly sinks below the cliffs peak, sending the valley into an almost eclipse like state as the sun struggles to spread its warm glow against the large shadows engulfing the valley.

*****

A small brick cottage pops into view up ahead of me. With the light drained from the valley, it was easy to see that familiar warm glow of home. The chimney chuffed out a steady stream of black soot and smoke, but with no electricity there wasn't really any other option but to have candles and a fire. For the next three months, this would be home, this would be a place for me among nature and this would represent a new a new step in my career - If I find coal that is.