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Quote by Frank Krumm

“Interestingly, some of these European extinct or relictual taxa are spreading today after re-introductions into parts of Europe (e.g. Morus mulberry, Tsuga, Cedrus cedar, Aesculus, Rhododendron ponticum), perhaps re-occupying ‘empty niches’ vacated earlier in the Quaternary.”

Quote by Frank Krumm

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Frank Krumm

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“Ready yourselves!' Mullone heard himself say, which was strange, he thought, for he knew his men were prepared. A great cry came from beyond the walls that were punctuated by musket blasts and Mullone readied himself for the guns to leap into action. Mullone felt a tremor. The ground shook and then the first rebels poured through the gates like an oncoming tide. Mullone saw the leading man; both hands gripping a green banner, face contorted with zeal. The flag had a white cross in the centre of the green field and the initials JF below it. John Fitzstephen. Then, there were more men behind him, tens, then scores. And then time seemed to slow. The guns erupted barely twenty feet from them. Later on, Mullone would remember the great streaks of flame leap from the muzzles to lick the air and all of the charging rebels were shredded and torn apart in one terrible instant. Balls ricocheted on stone and great chunks were gouged out by the bullets. Blood sprayed on the walls as far back as the arched gateway, limbs were shorn off, and Mullone watched in horror as a bloodied head tumbled down the sloped street towards the barricade. 'Jesus sweet suffering Christ!' Cahill gawped at the carnage as the echo of the big guns resonated like a giant's beating heart. Trooper O'Shea bent to one side and vomited at the sight of the twitching, bleeding and unrecognisable lumps that had once been men. A man staggered with both arms missing. Another crawled back to the gate with a shattered leg spurting blood. The stench of burnt flesh and the iron tang of blood hung ripe and nauseating in the oppressive air. One of the low wooden cabins by the wall was on fire. A blast of musketry outside the walls rattled against the stonework and a redcoat toppled backwards onto the cabin's roof as the flames fanned over the wood. 'Here they come again! Ready your firelocks! Do not waste a shot!' Johnson shouted in a steady voice as the gateway became thick with more rebels. He took a deep breath. 'God forgive us,' Corporal Brennan said. 'Liberty or death!' A rebel, armed with a blood-stained pitchfork, shouted over-and-over.”

ActionDeathFictionLibertyHistoryRebellionHistorical FictionIrelandMissionQuestUnrestAction AdventureInsurrectionEbookGeorgian1798
Book:Liberty or Death
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“We zijn zeventien, achttien, negentien, halfgaar uit de mallen van onze respectievelijke gezinnen gerold en nu, zonder die behuizing, zonder die vaste vorm, lijkt het alsof we uitvloeien. We zoeken naar een leven dat bij ons gaat passen. Een karakter, een imago, een stijl, een doel misschien of anders in elk geval een typische eigenschap of opvallend taalgebruik. Iedereen kan niet wachten de eerste stappen te zetten en tegelijkertijd jaagt het ons allemaal grote angst aan.”

Ontwikkeling
Author:Sacha Bronwasser
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“Misschien is dit wat jullie bedoelde. Jullie docenten. Wij moesten afgebroken worden, zeiden jullie. We moesten afschudden waarmee familie, conventies, tradities en gewoonte ons hadden omhangen. We moesten niets worden, barre grond, een omgespit en van onkruid ontdaan akkertje. We moesten onszelf worden, want dat waren we nog niet. We moesten afleren om te leren, stil worden om te luisteren, onszelf pijnigen om anderen te kunnen troosten - we moesten zo veel. Die kans werd ons geboden, die moesten we met beide handen aangrijpen.”

Ontwikkeling
Author:Sascha Bronwasser
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