I was the only one allowed to touch him other than her. I still remember the day she wanted me to bunk school because she wanted to talk to me. I couldn’t refuse when my cute sister asked me. We spent the entire day telling stories to each other. I remember every story she told me. Most of them were about me‚ her and Fluffy going on a vacation. Tears were now rolling down my cheeks. What if something happens to her ? I was now 5 feet from the door. I was shivering. My sister was everything
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The lake closed over her nose and mouth as Sara sucked in a lung-full of cold‚ black water. Sarah barely managed to get in another breath‚ she glimpsed quickly‚ she saw the dreadful red light of its eyes still shining accompanied by the horrifying howls. Sara felt her body beginning to tremble out of utter fear‚ for the beast was still pursuing her. Sarah took a deep breath of living restoring air‚ and submersed herself under the water. She began to swim further and further away from it‚ being very
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David turned his head and spat off the front porch. It had been a long day. It was good to be home. He turned the key‚ his brain releasing a little squirt of dopamine at the familiar sound of the coming relaxation‚ and waited on the next of the two sounds he heard every day at 5:30: Scruff banging against the door. There was no banging‚ though. No panting‚ either. Nothing at all to signify to dog even knew he was there. After a decade of driveway-key-door-dog‚ it was easy to notice the silence
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A Study of the Characteristics of 19th Century Horror Stories In this essay we will look at the Characteristics of 19th Century Horror Stories‚ commenting on: the structure of the story; the characterisation; the themes included in the story; the setting and the writer’s technique. I will be looking into two texts in detail: “The Monkey’s Paw” by William Wymark Jacobs; and “The Signalman” by Charles Dickens‚ whilst making references to “Captain Rogers” – also by William Wymark Jacobs‚ and
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Kendall Hutchinson October 3‚ 2011 English 102 Steve Sparks Is The Amityville Horror True? Based on a reportedly true story‚ Jay Anson’s‚ The Amityville Horror‚ took the nation by storm. It caught the eye of people mainly because of the subtitle it carried: “A True Story”. Jay Anson wrote this book based on George and Kathleen Lutzes’ claims “that they and their three small children felt threatened from strong supernatural forces while living at 112 Ocean Avenue” (Osuna). However‚ aside from
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the southern part of the United States such as Texas and Florida‚ but New York and New Jersey are really not prepared for thus type of cyclones. They suffered even more than what snow storms have made them suffere‚ this is the cruel horror story of hurricane Sandy. After making a destructive path through the carribean sea Hurricane Sandy made landfall in southern New Jersey on Octuber 29‚ 2012 and brought with it major flooding‚ travel interruptions‚ structural damage‚ and
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Earplugs Assignment While watching “American Horror Story”‚ I tried to piece together what was happening based on the facial expressions‚ body language‚ and overall tone of each image. Some scenes were easier than others. I found myself becoming frustrated when a scene would only consist of two people sitting and talking because it was almost impossible to understand. Although I did become frustrated during certain parts‚ I felt I was more aware of what the camera angles and cut scenes were portraying
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Once upon a time in a town called Murdock‚ there lived a boy named Oliver. One day Oliver and his friends decided to go to a house outside of the town‚ which was said to be haunted. On the night of 11/04-1938‚ Oliver gathered his friends and started walking towards the building with alot of courage. Upon arrival they were shocked of how big the house was. On a sign it said; Murdock Manor. Without thinking Oliver and his entourage walked towards the building. The walls of the old building
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Gothic Horror Story. “I will be home soon‚” said I‚ “before the rise of noon‚ just in time for tea mother.” And I hurried off after negotiating that I was old enough to go and see the wonders of the gloomy‚ haunted woods which many people had warned each other about. “Come back in time‚” said mother whilst cooking tea‚ and glanced at me with disapproval. My grim looking father sat‚ listening to the radio‚ with great eager. “Before you go daughter‚” he broke in‚ “make sure you take extra care as
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Beggar The only life that had been in Marks flat was growing out of his mugs. The smell of foul mustard and loneliness filled the air of the forbidding suite; with it’s unpainted floor and its small‚ square windows. To the left of the front door hung a gloomy painting of a crying clown‚ which was as sad as the sunless sea. Mark left his grim flat‚ leaving the leaden bed that was as lonely as a whale in the vast ocean. He was slugging through the swarming crowd‚ as the lights glanced and the seagulls
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