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Trimming_sentences-y - Joanna ran Her weary tired worn...

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While the tall grandfather clock beat steadily John stared carefully at the old lady, wondering patiently in his dull mind whether or not he would be able to help her, and after a moment’s cautious deliberation he quietly picked up the bitter letter that had been written to him by his old friend in Paris and began to tear it slowly into tiny shreds that lay on the soft carpet like white confetti. The wild, wet, drenching rain lashed crazily down on Joanna’s cold,  bare, bleak face. She stared carefully into the black, grim darkness. 
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Just ahead she thought that she could see a glimmering, gleaming,  shining, glowing light.    She turned to run swiftly quickly with her cold white bony hands  outstretched. The skeleton trees seemed to reach out to grab her. Ragged  rough gnarled branches tore persistently at her Sharp  jagged thorns  snagged her clothes. 
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Unformatted text preview: Joanna ran. Her weary, tired, worn, bleeding feet pounding on the wet, muddy ground. Mud splashed up against her soaking damp wet leggings. Behind her she could hear the sound of the fierce, angry harsh dogs barking loudly, excitedly. She could hear men’s voices shouting. Her heart thudded madly, loudly like a hammer in her chest. She had to get through. The light was nearer and she could see that it was a safe, calm, quiet cottage. She ran the last few steps, stumbling across the path that lead to the front door handle. At the moment two dogs broke through the trees and raced towards her. She turned and saw their bright eyes, gleaming red as hot coals, and their white shiny teeth bared. As they leapt a hand snake out of the cottage and grabbed her....
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