“Wring” typically refers to the act of twisting or squeezing something forcefully to extract liquid or to cause pain or distress. It can also metaphorically imply causing emotional or mental anguish. For example, one might wring out a wet towel to remove excess water, or figuratively wring one’s hands in worry. Here are ten sample sentences showcasing the usage of “wring”:
- She wrings out the cloth before hanging it to dry.
- The boxer’s punch wrings pain from his opponent’s body.
- The news of her failure wrings her heart with sorrow.
- The mother’s words wring tears from her child’s eyes.
- He tried to wring information out of the reluctant witness.
- The tight embrace wrings a gasp from her lips.
- Failure seemed to wring the life out of his dreams.
- The thought of losing her pet wrings anguish from her soul.
- She wrings her hands nervously, waiting for the results.
- The difficult decision seemed to wring every last drop of resolve from him.
Synonyms:
- Twist
- Squeeze
- Extract
- Agonize
- Torment
- Wrench
- Drain
- Siphon
- Press
- Distress
- Twist: To rotate or turn something forcefully or in a spiral motion.
- Squeeze: To apply pressure to something in order to compress or extract liquid or substance from it.
- Extract: To remove or obtain something, often by pulling or drawing it out from a source or container.
- Agonize: To experience intense mental or emotional suffering or anguish.
- Torment: To cause severe physical or mental suffering or pain to someone.
- Wrench: To twist or pull something forcefully, often causing it to move or come apart.
- Drain: To remove liquid or substance from a container or area, typically by allowing it to flow out or be emptied.
- Siphon: To draw or transfer liquid from one container to another by using a tube or hose, typically by creating a pressure difference.
- Press: To apply pressure or force to something, often by pushing or compressing it.
- Distress: Extreme anxiety, sorrow, or pain caused by a difficult or challenging situation.
The Elixir of Anguish
The alchemist’s laboratory pulsed with an eerie luminescence. In the center, hunched over a grotesque contraption of bubbling vials and twisting tubes, stood Elara, her brow furrowed in a grimace that mirrored the contortions of the metal. Tonight, she wouldn’t be conjuring gold, but something far more potent – agony.
Squeezing the last drops of Nightshade into a simmering cauldron, Elara muttered an incantation, her voice raspy with exhaustion. The air twisted with an unnatural chill, and the concoction wrenched into a swirling vortex of emerald. This was the heart of her creation – an elixir brewed from the distress of a thousand stolen tears.
She had started innocently enough, seeking to alleviate the torment of her ailing brother. Legends spoke of a mythical elixir, crafted from the essence of suffering, that could cure any ailment. But as she delved deeper, the lines between medicine and malice blurred. The more extract she needed, the more souls she drained, their anguish feeding her twisted ambition.
Siphoning the emerald essence into a vial, Elara felt a pang of guilt. But it was quickly pressed down by the desperate hope for her brother. Ignoring the gnawing in her conscience, she raised the vial to her lips.
Just as the first drop touched her tongue, a searing pain exploded in her veins. The elixir, potent beyond measure, wasn’t meant for mortal consumption. It twisted and wrenched at her very being, transforming her into a vessel of the agony she had collected.
Her screams echoed through the lab, a monstrous symphony of a thousand stolen sorrows. In her final moments, Elara realized the true price of her ambition. The cure had become the torment, and she, forever extracted, a monument to the perils of playing with forces beyond human understanding.
The vial, untouched, rolled on the cold stone floor, a chilling reminder of the alchemist’s descent into darkness, and the terrible cost of a cure sought in the depths of despair.
The Elixir of Anguish: A Tale of Sacrifice and Redemption
Twisting his weathered hands together, the old alchemist, Silas, surveyed the pulsating heart of the rare nightshade flower. Its luminescent petals, imbued with the agonizing essence of moonlight, held the key to his desperate quest: the fabled Elixir of Anguish. Legends whispered of its power to extract the deepest sorrow, forging it into a potent elixir capable of granting unimaginable magic. But the price was steep.
Silas, tormented by the loss of his beloved granddaughter, Elara, was willing to pay. He pressed the flower’s stem, a crimson tear squeezing out onto a vial. The air crackled with anticipation as he siphoned the last drop, its potent energy wrenching his soul.
As he chanted the ancient incantation, the vial twisted, morphing into a swirling vortex of inky blackness. A bone-chilling shriek echoed through the chamber, and Silas crumpled to the ground, drained of his life force. Yet, from the vortex, a new vial emerged, shimmering with an otherworldly light.
The Elixir of Anguish was complete. But at what cost? Silas lay lifeless, his sacrifice etched on his contorted face. Elara, miraculously revived by the elixir’s power, stood beside him, her heart distressed by the sight. Tears streamed down her face, each one imbued with the same agonizing essence that had claimed her grandfather.
Suddenly, the vial pulsed, responding to Elara’s grief. A tendril of light snaked out, wrapping around Silas’s hand. As Elara wept, the light flowed from her, wrenching the anguish from her soul and pouring it back into Silas.
Silas’s eyes fluttered open, the elixir’s power reviving him. He looked at Elara, his own pain replaced by the echo of hers. In that moment, he understood. The true power of the elixir wasn’t to extract sorrow, but to transform it, forging empathy and understanding from the depths of despair.
Silas and Elara embraced, their tears mingling, a testament to the twisted path that had led them back to each other. The Elixir of Anguish, born from sacrifice, became a symbol of their love, a reminder that even the deepest sorrow could be transformed into something beautiful.
The Blood Amulet: A Tale of Agony and Extraction
Agony clawed at Elara’s throat, each breath a searing inferno. The amulet, once a symbol of her people’s prosperity, now pulsed with an evil light, draining her life force. Its inscription, once benevolent, now twisted into mocking tendrils. Her screams echoed through the desolate temple, a desperate plea lost in the stifling silence.
The High Priest, his eyes gleaming with fanatical fervor, approached. “The ritual nears its zenith,” he rasped, his voice like gravel scraping bone. “Squeeze harder, child! Extract the final vestiges of your essence to fuel the amulet’s power!”
Elara fought the urge to succumb, her spirit wrenched by the conflicting emotions: terror, defiance, and a flicker of hope. She remembered the legends whispered by her grandmother, tales of a hidden chamber within the temple, where the amulet’s twist could be reversed.
With a surge of adrenaline, she pressed her shaking hand against the amulet’s pulsating heart. A jolt of pain ripped through her, but amidst the distress, a faint warmth spread, a counterpoint to the amulet’s icy grip.
The High Priest recoiled, his eyes widening in shock. The inscription writhed, contorting in agony as Elara’s will battled its dark magic. The air crackled with unseen energy, the very stones of the temple groaning in protest.
Suddenly, with a deafening crack, the amulet shattered. The darkness receded, replaced by a soft, ethereal glow. Elara gasped, her body wracked with tremors, but the pain was receding, replaced by a newfound lightness.
She stumbled towards the hidden chamber, guided by the faint warmth. Inside, she found an ancient scroll, its parchment brittle but the inscription clear. It spoke of a hidden power within the amulet, a power to heal, not to destroy.
Elara traced the inscription with trembling fingers, a new resolve hardening in her eyes. The ordeal had tormented her, but it had also awakened a strength she never knew she possessed. She would not be a victim. She would be the one to twist the fate of her people, to wield the amulet’s power for good, not evil.
The tale of Elara’s courage and sacrifice echoed through the ages, a testament to the human spirit’s ability to rise above even the most agonizing circumstances. The Blood Amulet, once a symbol of despair, became a beacon of hope, forever reminding everyone of the day a young woman extracted her own power from the clutches of darkness.
Antonyms:
- Soothe – Menenangkan
- Comfort – Menghibur
- Relax – Bersantai
- Delight – Menyenangkan
Derived Words:
- Wringing – Memeras
- Wringer – Pemeras
- Wringable – Dapat Diperas
- Wringingly – Secara Memeras
Related Words:
- Wring out – Memeras
- Wring from – Mencari/memaksa sesuatu dari seseorang
- Wring one’s hands – Menggeliatkan tangan
- Wring the truth – Memaksa kebenaran
Phrasal Verbs:
- Wring out – Memeras
- Wring from – Mencari/memaksa sesuatu dari seseorang
- Wring up – Menyiksa
Common Expressions:
- Wring one’s hands – Menggeliatkan tangan
- Wring the truth – Memaksa kebenaran
- Wring one’s heart – Memeras hati
Related Idioms:
- Wring someone dry – Memeras seseorang hingga kering
- Wring someone’s neck – Memeras leher seseorang