Trumpet Blast Synonym Novels & Stories

The wind was blowing ferociously as the trees shook in great melancholy, the weak ones were once uprooted while the strong one only witheld back, either in bent shapes or sprawled onto the surface of the earth with the root buried into the soil. I stood in room which he left me earlier, I clearly remembered the sound of a trumpet being blown earlier. I didn't not know what it meant but in my Kingdom when a trumpet was being blown it means someone of royalty was passing on and to announce his/her death. The trumpet are blown as a sign of respect for the individual.

Naturally, she was filled with anxiety and dread. "Get lost!" With a loud crash, Zayn hurled a liquor bottle at the door from inside the study. The sharp and piercing sound made Cassidy scream and turn to flee in panic.

Until the trumpet rang. The sound was different from what I remembered. It was not like the one God made sound when he realized that one of his archangels was about to capture me. It was sharper, strident, and shook the ground. Far away from us, something shone in the sky, and it wasn't lightning. The thing multiplied to several others, as the trumpet still played. They weren't just lights, they were meteors. Celestial dusts that were being thrown from all corners of the world. Even before the trumpet stopped playing, it was already obvious that we wouldn't have a chance without something big enough.

B operator) “”.

​The horn blew one last time, a short, sharp blast that signaled an arrival. ​And then, silence. ​Heavy, expectant silence.

For that Azrin was thankful. “Deadbeats? Really Lex? That is not what that means you goober,” Azrin was still huffing in between words and his abdominal muscles were beginning to cramp. “If the shoe fits,” “Pft, and I’m the nerd. Ok Lex, whatever you say,” The omega smiled up at the blonde, earning himself a playful growl as Lexus began to rub his thumb across the back of his hand.

A loud noise was heard near the gate, and everyone looked back as a loud trumpet was sounded. “The slayer is here.”

POV EMMA BELLE The sun hadn't even finished rising when the horn sounded. It wasn't the deep, booming call of a victory or the rhythmic alert of a patrol. It was the Sorrow-Blast—a jagged, mournful note that only sounded when the North had bled. I was in the solar, trying to stomach a piece of toast while the puppies did backflips in my womb, when the doors were thrown open so hard the obsidian hinges shrieked.

the loudspeaker boomed. The stadium speakers erupted into a heavy, rhythmic bass line that got three-quarters of the crowd back on their feet. The synchronized chants of "Harlow-Jones! Harlow-Jones!" restarted with a vengeance, the massive banners waving in the upper decks like a triumphant flag over our territory.