THE HOUSE Arriving at a new school is scary and nerve racking. I’ve moved five times since I was six‚ but Dad said this would be the last time for sure. I’m hopeful‚ but I should never keep my hopes too high. The first day was good‚ I even started to talk to some of the other guys. They all seem nice and chill‚ everyone does for the most part‚ but it’s high school‚ people aren’t always what they seem. After talking to my parents and the guys who I had become friends with
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Gothic fiction writing: As I make my way over the hill I see dark clouds surrounding the place I’ve been heading towards‚ the large estate that my uncle and aunt own. It has a large building that looks somewhat like a castle‚ it is a cream colour with blue roofs but still manages to look dark and mysterious and has an eerie feel surrounding it. It is long and on half of it is about 10 floors high with little towers coming out above the main roof‚ the other half is lower down‚ only about 5 stories
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up against my head and said‚ "Go to the bank and give me all of your money!" Harry forced me into my own car and made me drive to the closest bank. After we emptied my bank account I drove back to my house. When we arrived at my house‚ there was a short stubby man named George waiting on my porch. Harry called George the previous night because he needed a place to stay. George was furious with Harry for calling him during the night. Harry tried to calm George down‚ by giving him some of my money for
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The graveyard was dark and shadowed; tulips lined the cobblestone pathway that led to the mausoleum‚ looming darkly against the feeble moon. I strode through the graveyard‚ glancing nervously around at the shadows that lay thick upon the graves like a shroud. Tulips‚ protruding like withered stakes from the ground‚ lined the pathway‚ and I could smell their sickly-sweet odor as I approached the mausoleum‚ looming above me like a forbidding monument to the feeble moon above. “Rachel!” I cried out
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Why do people want to live in a perfect world? Everyone wants to live in their own fantasy world because that is where all their dreams are able to come true. No one wants a world of grief and sorrow. Life should be lived to its fullest. It should not be wasted. It should be embraced. When we are faced with agony‚ we must either make a choice between accepting it or hiding from it. In the play “A Streetcar Named Desire” by Tennessee Williams‚ the author mainly focuses on Blanche Dubois‚ a woman who
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The rain fell down like tiny stones onto my head‚ it was only a light shower at the moment‚ but as I recall the weather reporter said there would be an intensive storm soon. That jogged my memory‚ I should get home quick before it gets any worse. As I was walking through the woods‚ sticking to my normal path‚ it hit me that the weather today has been awful‚ there was this heavy fog that prevented me seeing any further than 10 meters. It doesn’t bother my though because I know these woods like the
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Gothic Elements in the Short Stories of Edgar Allan Poe Edgar Allan Poe is known as the Father of the Gothic. He utilized Gothicism in his short stories such as‚ ‘The Fall of the House of Usher’ and ‘Ligeia.’ Poe has written numerous literary masterpieces that have focused on the Gothic. Not only have his works been focused on the Gothic‚ but his life had somewhat of a Gothic theme. Through love‚ death‚ and depression‚ Poe’s life had an impact on the way he wrote‚ which is evident through in
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around 1764 by Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto‚ whose story contained almost every element of what is viewed today as a Gothic Tale. Most stories that are classified under the subgenre of gothic fiction involve many elements that create a sense of suspense or mystery‚ with features that develop a dark feeling or unsettling atmosphere and sometimes even overwrought emotion. Through the analysis of short stories written by Gothic authors such as‚ “Where Are You Going‚ Where Have You Been?” by
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well maintained. The tragic death of the family is considered to be equivocal‚ for there is no true story of the death of the family of seven. Many peasants state rather specious arguments about the mysterious deaths‚ but their arguments are easily seen as counterfeit. Judging by the family member’s mutilated bodies‚ some may argue the death was that of the work of an omen or demon‚ but the story‚ again‚ is equivocal. As the hooded man approached the wretched estate‚ his identity was soon uncovered
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Beacon Hall Cautiously walked I towards the grand old mansion‚ where I read the name aloud ’Beacon Hall’. The vulgar and vile house had the look of an old run down Gothic church with arched stained glass windows. The doors and windows reminded me of a church I once visited called ’El Monumental’ in Barcelona. I breathed in deeply smelling wet oak wood reminding me of winter fires and roasting chestnuts. The area was in an old abandoned town by the forest and the old lake‚ as I went into the house
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