Wrest is a verb that means to forcefully pull, twist or take something away from someone. It can also refer to an intense struggle, especially a physical one. Here are 10 sentences to clarify the meaning of “wrest”:
- The wrestler was able to wrestle his opponent to the ground in just a few seconds.
- The team was able to wrest the championship title away from the defending champions.
- The climber had to wrestle with the slippery rocks to make it to the top of the mountain.
- The government was able to wrest control of the territory from the rebels.
- He had to wrestle with his conscience before deciding to tell the truth.
- The young boy was able to wrestle the toy away from his sister.
- She had to wrestle with the heavy suitcase to get it up the stairs.
- The company was able to wrestle the contract away from its competitors.
- The team was determined to wrest victory from the jaws of defeat.
- The politician had to wrestle with opposition from both sides of the aisle.
Synonyms:
- Seize
- Take
- Grab
- Snatch
- Twist
- Grasp
- Pull
- Tug
- Force
- Extract
The Alchemist’s Conundrum
The clocktower of Aethel hummed ominously, its iron gears gnashing like teeth in the approaching storm. Dr. Corvus, alchemist extraordinaire, paced amidst his bubbling concoctions, his gaze fixed on the writhing form writhing within a shimmering crystal cage. It was a NOX – a creature of pure nightmare, forged from stolen shadows and bottled moonlight. Corvus had seized it just days ago, its capture a feat whispered with awe through the cobbled streets.
Now, he sought to extract its essence, its very darkness, to fuel his magnum opus – the Elixir of Everlight, a potion promising endless illumination. He reached for a scalpel, cold steel glinting in the flickering candlelight, but the NOX, a writhing mass of obsidian fur and emerald eyes, wrenched its cage, the crystal groaning under its fury.
Corvus snatched his hand back, his heart hammering against his ribs. He tugged at a lever, unleashing a torrent of steam that engulfed the cage, momentarily blinding the creature. This was his chance. With a deft twist of his wrist, he plunged the scalpel into the cage, and through a hole the size of a pinprick, a tendril of inky shadow slithered out.
He grabbed a vial, its glass cold against his sweaty palm, and guided the tendril inside. It writhed like a captured serpent, but Corvus held firm, forcing it into the vial with a muttered incantation. As the last of the NOX’s essence drained, the creature within the cage imploded into a wisp of smoke, leaving behind only a faint echo of its terror.
He corked the vial, a bead of sweat slipping down his temple. He had taken the darkness, but at what cost? The storm outside mirrored the turmoil within him. The Elixir of Everlight, powered by stolen shadows, seemed less a beacon of hope and more a harbinger of doom.
His sleep was plagued by nightmares – the NOX’s emerald eyes gleaming accusingly, the cage shattering, the darkness engulfing Aethel in an eternal eclipse. He awoke with a start, the vial heavy in his hand. He could seize the light, that much was true, but could he truly claim it without succumbing to the very darkness he had extracted?
Corvus, the alchemist renowned for his brilliance, found himself at a crossroads. His magnum opus, once a symbol of hope, now felt like a cursed chalice. He could grasp for the glory, and bathe Aethel in perpetual light, but would it be a light worth the stolen shadows in his soul? Or would he pull back, destroy the vial, and risk Aethel falling back into the clutches of the night?
As the sun peeked over the horizon, casting its hesitant light on the alchemist’s workshop, Corvus made his choice. With a trembling hand, he raised the vial and smashed it against the stone floor. The Elixir of Everlight shattered, its darkness seeping into the cracks, a silent vow to the shadows he had both taken and ultimately relinquished.
The path ahead was uncertain, the cost of progress etched in the lines of his face. But as he stepped out into the morning sun, Dr. Corvus knew one thing for sure: true light shone brightest not from stolen shadows, but from the courage to embrace the complexities of darkness and dawn.
Antonyms:
- Give
- Offer
- Surrender
- Release
- Let go
- Yield
- Relinquish
- Abandon
- Retreat
- Renounce
The Weaver’s Redemption
Eliana, the Weaver of Whispers, stood at the precipice. Below, the tapestry of the mortal world stretched out, a vibrant chaos of laughter and tears, battles and banquets. In her hand, she held the Loom of Fate, its threads shimmering with the destinies of a million souls. Tonight, she was meant to act, to intervene in the grand play, to twist the threads and alter the future.
But tonight, Eliana faltered. For years, she had offered glimpses of tomorrow, nudged mortals towards certain paths, convinced she was playing a benevolent role. Yet, with each intervention, the world seemed to spin farther into chaos. She had given life at the cost of liberty, and surrendered free will for the illusion of safety.
The weight of her role, the suffocating grip of control, became too much. An ember of rebellion, long buried, sparked within her. Tonight, she wouldn’t release destiny; she would relinquish control.
She began with the smallest acts. A whispered warning of betrayal averted a war, a forgotten lullaby soothed a troubled soul. The world trembled slightly, yielding to her newfound passivity. The tapestry thrummed with an unfamiliar energy, a symphony of choice, not coercion.
Fear gnawed at her. What if chaos devoured the world now that she hadn’t given it direction? The Weaver of Whispers had become the Weaver of Silence, and the silence roared.
But then, she saw. Mortals, unburdened by her dictates, rose to the challenges. A blacksmith whofted his hammer against tyranny, a mother defied tradition to save her child, and a poet spun words of hope instead of fear. The tapestry, once vibrant with her manipulations, shimmered with newfound brilliance – the brilliance of unfettered potential.
Eliana abandoned the Loom, its threads whispering farewell as she descended into the mortal realm. No longer a Weaver, she became a listener, a witness to the extraordinary resilience of the human spirit. She watched heroes rise from the ashes, heard love bloom in the cracks of despair, and witnessed the tapestry of life rewrite itself with each bold stride of choice.
She understood then. The greatest gift, the truest release, was not in shaping destinies, but in allowing them to unfold. Her retreat wasn’t a failure, but a renouncement of her god complex, a surrender to the magnificent chaos that was life.
And as she walked among the mortals, no longer a Weaver but a silent observer, Eliana knew she had woven the most important thread of all: the thread of freedom. And that, truly, was a tapestry worth beholding.
Related Words:
- Wrestler
- Wrestling
- Wrested
- Wrester
- Wrestlemania
- Wreath
- Wrestling
- Wreathless
- Wrestful
- Wreathed
Phrasal Verbs:
- Wrest away
- Wrestle down
- Wrestle out
- Wrestle up
Idioms:
- To wrest victory from the jaws of defeat
- To wrestle with one’s conscience
- To wrestle with a problem
- To wrest control from someone
- To wrestle a decision
