Short story that's personally written with the same mood

this is somthing i wrote a long time ago. If u edit it a bit it will be a short story.

I know this is a place to help butu could try to complete assigment yourself, because i am in 8th grade right now and i do most of the work myself unless i have a question that I truly dont undersatnt.

hope this helps

This dream again, of a clock. The clock keeps falling but it never reaches the ground or it will break.

I am the clock, and I can’t break.

My life has always been controlled by time. Time. It's such a vicious circle. Torturing you until you break. But you can't break, and shouldn't break if you are a vampire.

Tick-Tock Tick-Tock.

But I feel like I'm breaking.

RIN.

“What time is it?”

Headaches, restless sleep, and memories.

Sometimes it is almost not there, while at other times that is all there is, and the pain always coincides with memories. It is less a headache and more a memory ache. A life ache.

No matter what I do, it never goes completely. I have tried everything. I’ve drunk liters of water, had lavender-scented baths, listened to lute music and the sound of waves on a beach, lain in the dark, slow-breathed, meditated, did a yoga course, stopped drinking caffeine, turned the brightness down, but still the headaches stays, as stubborn as a shadows, not leaving my head.

For now bullet Journaling is all that helps.

I got up, back in my grand room.

It has too many memories. Too many ghosts. I suppose the way I understand my life is as a kind of Russian doll, with different versions inside other versions, each one enclosing the other, whereby the life before isn’t seen from the outside but is still there.

For years, I thought the key was to keep building new shells on top of the old ones. To keep moving into something else in the eyes of society. But sometimes it turns hard. You lose the strength to keep building new shells. You get tired.

My mom always said to never give up hope. But you lose hope as time passes by. Now I have a different life, a different family.

In this life. I am a queen.

One week and one day before it happened yesterday.

Two boys fighting near an impromptu pen of pigs.

An apple stall.

A bread stand.

Radishes.

Lace.

Broken Bracelet.

A girl, no more than ten, carrying a basket full of plums.

Roast goose stalls on both sides of the road.

Lettuce lying in a puddle.

A well-dressed blind woman being led around by a scruffy-looking orphan girl.

Lame beggars.

I smile, I love this town, but even though my face is happy my eyes tell a different story as people say, my eyes show pain and grief.

I’ve lived through a lot, but you can find the best in everything. I now have six sisters and am a princess, the dream of any little girl.

But the pain doesn't fade.

A servant from the palace runs up to me. He is wearing the palace uniform which is all blue and has gold stripes. The queen assigned it recently after the war started.

The war with Dragon shifters, repulsive and manipulative creatures who only want power. Now they want all the land, but did they really think vampires would go down without a fight.  The servant that is in front of me is out of breath, his voice is ragged as if he ran for a long time, from the corner of my eye I see sweat coming down his forehead.

“YOUR MAJESTY, THE QUEEN...SHE.. SHE IS DEAD, MURDERED THROUGH THE HANDS OF A DRAGON!”

The crowd around me stops, people gasp. I just stare, I don't know how to react, I’ve learned to adapt to certain problems but this... People start whispering and a man comes up and says.

“LIES! YOU TELL LIES!” He was holding a lute.

My mother used to sit beside my bed, singing in French and playing her cherrywood lute, her fingers running fast across the strings as if escaping something, now I know what it was.

“He doesn’t tell lies, our servants swear to tell only the truth, if he says the queen is dead..that is the truth,” I say.

The man looks at me bewildered, “Well, who’s going to run the kingdom then, right now during war. It's bad but without a leader it's going to be pure chaos.”

I look at him and at everyone surrounding me and say the words that I now regret.

“I am the new queen.”

1 week before it happened, back to normal.

How did I get myself into this?

Explanation:

the rhetoric device being used to persuade the audience is pathos.

hello! i am thinking the answer is d. to convince parliament to go to war against nazi germany

sorry if i am wrong