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Ghost stories for an essay
A ghost story essay
A ghost story essay
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House number 21.
That vacant house that used to be right across ours, where a man alone used to live all by himself. After a month, the man fled off from the house, claiming that a sinister creature of some sort was present in that house.
Everyone in the town refused to believe him; and I did too- thinking that he has gone bonkers, and he belongs in the insane asylum.
That night when he left this town, the whispers of the dead souls and screams of terror that echoed in the streets rang in my ears, along with a faint smell of death hanging in the chilling darkness.
I thought I was having a nightmare; maybe I wanted to believe so. Till I saw the lights flickering constantly and the dark shadows lurking upon......
Okay, I was just messing with you guys.
You see, I was just so 'inspired' by the horror movie that was being played last night on the television.
I'll stop now and move on to the actual story.
Basically, house number 21 was just an empty house right across the street of ours, and a neighbour of ours has moved out a few years ago.
Yeah, it was just a normal bungalow that looked identical to ours. The exterior of the house looked practically the same as ours. All the houses in this neighbourhood looked like bunch of clones, if you asked me.
I mean it. It's like the architects have either lost their creative touch, or they just can't be bothered to differentiate the housings in this town.
Anyway, I was told by my mom last week that there would be a new family relocating to that house over there, right across the street. Not that I really care.
"Honey, guess what!" my mom exclaimed, as she burst into my room.
Gosh, did she just conveniently ignore the 'Don't disturb' sign at the door? I was immersed into my novel f...
... middle of paper ...
...Ryan, I told you not to ride motorcycles. Do I need to explain why, again, dear?" the lady suddenly spoke, which surprised me a little at first.
The boy named, Ryan instantly frowned, knitting up his eyebrows together.
"Whatever," he replied, clearly irked by his mother's voice, oh so full of elegance.
The man said, "Ryan, please just listen to your mother."
Instantly, the guy, Ryan had an exasperated face expression crossed his face. He wore his helmet, turned on the engine, and sped off without a word.
Both the parents heaved a deep sigh, whilst mom and I exchanged looks.
"Well, we've better get going," mom said swiftly.
"It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Ruth," the man responded, with a polite smile.
When I turned around, I kept thinking- why do I have a bad feeling that this neighbourhood would be more chaotic than it usually is?
Maybe it was my institution.
On the site of the current house there used to be a Tudor mansion and
didn’t always live on Dovetail Drive. Before that it was Matin Circle and before that it was Chesnut. Then 4th street and then Erie Street, and then before that it was Elmwood. Then Marguerite Parkway, then Moonfield Drive, and then Springwood Hall Gardens. My family has always been moving around like migratory birds, from one place to the next. The only difference is, we don’t look back to where we once were.
causing all of this commotion. After a few minutes he just thinks to himself that it was just some kids
I have lived in a total of three houses throughout my life. My first house, I only lived in for a short amount of time. It was a small, one floor house in Berea. I was probably only six months old when we moved out, so I don’t remember living here. After we moved out of our Berea home, my mom, dad, and I moved into our new house in Strongsville in Deerfield Lake. This house is home to some of my fondest memories of all time.
My legs are tangled with anxious. Residents around me are dead still under the cover of the fractured moonlight. Layers of darkness flood my mind along with waves of dread. I’m terrified. More than terrified. My heart flops like a dead fish running dry of hope.
Darkness all around, a terrifying roar throughout every direction, blurry images of persons battling an apocalyptic beast which fade away along with my consciousness. Only the mark of a fairy that had a tail stay in my mind in as I passed out.
“The streets were deserted earlier. I didn't think anything of it.” My voice was quiet, but audible in the silence, and my hands were shaking.
I'd let out a reluctant shiver from being drenched from the rain as I heard the door close behind me with a boisterous bang. My clenched fists slowly loosened as I reverenced at how the mansion sent such an ominous feeling in every cell of my body. I had already came to the conclusion that a promised nightmare was y...
a dull grey colour as if it had lost the will to live and stopped
We said goodbye to our old house at noon. We unpacked the moving truck and emptied boxes. My new room was upstairs, it was the biggest one with a great view of the park behind our house. Everyone was happy. We all had our own rooms, but It didn't feel right. I missed our old house, having the basement all to myself. I hated walking up and down the twenty curved stairs to get to my room. We wanted a bigger house, but this one was a little too big. We had empty spaces everywhere, but it was too late. This was the house that my parents said they will live in the rest of their life, meaning I will live there until I go to
When we walked in it almost looked the same as our old house but newer.
This gave me the opportunity to indulge in my surroundings. Sitting on a mini bed that replaced a beige suede couch in the living area, I see bamboo plants, a bible laying on top of a small shelf, and some religious décor threw out the living area. The house is a bit out of date. I saw stained wooded floors, a small flat screen T.V., and the walls were covered with a poor paint job. My mom loves to paint the house. She paints the house approximately twice a year sometime skipping a year. We lived here for about ten years, so one could imagine the number of paint jobs done in our home. We resided here longer than we lived in any other house. Usually we experienced a move about every four
I really like my new house that i bought a month ago, but every time I feel like somebody's watching me is if like someone was next to me the whole time that's the only thing that creeps me out, I don't know if that's normal. But I was wondering what was inside the room of my basement. So when i went inside of it there were like 19 stairs to go down, but i was funny how, after I got down to the other basement there was a really dark room, it was darker than anything else i've seen in my entire life so i went up stairs to get a lamp, then i went down again, and find out that at the end of the room there was a somehow painting covered with probably more than 1 blanket that was for sure. I went to see what kind of painting it was and then when i uncovered it, it was like a circle with really bright colors, i kept staring at it for like more than 30 minutes. I couldn't stop thinking about it, I didn't took shower since that day, I wouldn't eat since that day, I didn't hang out with people since that day, I didn't eat since that day, I never went to work since that day, everything started since that
In The Real Charlotte, the big house is Bruff, which is home to the Dysart family. Bruff is in keeping with the image of all other Big Houses, large in comparison to surrounding abodes, adorned with long walk ways, luscious green lawns, with blooming flowers and ideally situated beside a lake. It was a symbol of elegance and refinement. It’s ‘shadow’ Big Houses could be named as Rosemount and Gurthnamuckla. They are the next step down in the property ladder, although Gurthnamuckla has the potential to become a proper big house as it was in the past, even though it requires a substantial amount of work. When Francie visits for the first time she is saddened at the pathetic disintegration of a once beautiful Georgian house:
(Fig. 0. Life Singapore’s Oldest HDB block Stirling Roa, Housing News & Top Stories – The Straits Times 2016)