Night in the country came like a cloak so that everything outside disappeared. No street lights and a new moon, whose light couldn't penetrate the many trees, may have had something to do with that. From any window, the only thing Nate saw when he looked outside was a thick blanket of black and the occasional flare of a firefly. At nine p.m. he excused himself from his grandparents' company as they watched Secrets of the Dead in their sitting room. He had some dead people's secrets to uncover himself. He went to the library and carried to his room the two boxes of books he and the twins had started on earlier. He intended to look through them late into the night and make up for their lack of progress. But soon his eyes were too droopy to scan the pages for the clues Will had said might be there. Research became a lot more boring without the twins. Nate lay across the bed, not bothering to undress. He drifted off to sleep for just a short nap with every intention of waking after a few minutes to go at it again. Sometime during the night he woke to what sounded like loud footsteps thumping on the floor in an odd cadence. A rhythm of thump pause thump pause thump came repeatedly like someone hopping on one foot. Weird, it seemed to be coming from beside his bed. Nate sat up, still disoriented from sleep. His lights were still on, and he cast a drowsy look about the room to find the cause of the noise. Movement from the floor shot a rush of adrenaline that brought him to full alert. He pulled his feet onto the bed like they had been dangling in an alligator pit. Had his room been transformed into such a habitat, it would not have shocked him more than the sight that actually greeted him from the bedroom floor. Books rose from t... ... middle of paper ... ...uch effort and, to Nate's surprise, a small roll of parchment fell to the floor. He didn't trust himself to pick it up. It had to be old, and Will had already warned him about how delicate old parchment could be. Supposed it just crumbled in his hand and it turned out to be something really important. But it was too early to call Will for advice, and no way would he just let it lay on the floor. He picked it up and unrolled it gently. He held a note important enough to have a hiding place. Would it answer all his questions about the farm? Nate crawled back into bed. He laid the paper flat, then placed his pocket knife on the top end of the parchment to prevent it from rolling up again and kept his finger gently on the bottom edge. He read the note once, then read it much slower a second time. The note definitely meant something, he just didn't know what.
The night was tempestuous and my emotions were subtle, like the flame upon a torch. They blew out at the same time that my sense of tranquility dispersed, as if the winds had simply come and gone. The shrill scream of a young girl ricocheted off the walls and for a few brief seconds, it was the only sound that I could hear. It was then that the waves of turmoil commenced to crash upon me. It seemed as though every last one of my senses were succumbed to disperse from my reach completely. As everything blurred, I could just barely make out the slam of a door from somewhere alongside me and soon, the only thing that was left in its place was an ominous silence.
It may seem like Ghost on the Throne by James Romm is just another one of the thousands of books written about the life about Alexander the Great. The fact is it was nearly the exact opposite. Of course, Alexander the Great plays an enormous role in the book, but Ghost on the Throne told the story of the legacy Alexander the Great left behind after his death. In fact, the word “Ghost” in the title of the book refers to Alexander the Great. Throughout the book, Romm told many stories about those who ruled after Alexander the Great and the influence Alexander had on the way those people ruled. This is why the book was given the title “Ghost on the Throne.” James Romm proves the impact Alexander’s legacy had on those once under his command even after he was no longer alive. Ghost on the Throne was a very interesting read and did an excellent job explaining Alexander the Great’s legacy.
Cathcart looked at the envelope and paused for a brief moment, and then flung it onto his desk without a care in the world. He then focused his attention back to the mess of cards on his desk, gathering the playing cards quickly so he can try again.
This ghost story was told by a nineteen-year-old Caucasian student at the University of Maryland. She is from the Baltimore Metro Area and lives with her mother and younger sister. I decided to approach her since she is a notorious lover of ghost stories and folklore. While we were hanging out with friends, I asked her to tell me a ghost story. As soon as I asked, her eyes lit up and she took me to the side, out of earshot of our friends. With great energy and enthusiastic facial expressions, she proceeded to tell me the following story about the Civil War site of the Battle of Gettysburg:
“and another sheet, yellow, moving towards the window, caught in the drying current flowing through the narrow opening" (Finney 112).This introduces the reader to the reason on why the main character is going on the ledge of the building. "A fraction of his mind knew he was going to fall, and he knew he began taking rapid blind steps with no feeling of what you was doing” (Finney 119).This shows the reader that he would do anything in the moment for this piece of paper. Without the conflict the main character would've never realized that he was wasting his life over a silly piece of paper.
cloth inside of a small box, with his neck wrung. 'Mrs. Wright wrapped the dead
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
What if the past had no meaning and the only part of our lives that matters is that which is happening presently? To further exacerbate the matter, all hope for some form of salvation and ever-lasting life from a God are entirely futile; that when life is over, all forms of existence are over as well. Such a desolate point of view is illustrated in Albert Camus’ The Stranger. Camus used characters such as the protagonist, Meursault, to establish his belief that life is nothing more than physical existence and that one can only define their life’s value based off of the events happening at the time in question. Whether Camus himself agreed with this viewpoint is irrelevant as throughout his novel, the striking contrast between Meursault and the society he found himself in clearly epitomized Meursault as an anomalous sociopath. The events resulting from the protagonist’s detached and brutally honest personality, as well as a dearth of a moral conscience, exemplify the extent at which amorality can be commensurate to madness.
The fondest memories of my youth include hitting people with sticks and throwing people out of trees. I was probably only about 8 years old when I started masquerading in the woods as a Robin Hood type character. Along with me I had about 7 other outlaws. Daily we would go into the woods and change teammates on our different Klan’s. Someday's we even had up to 12 kids parading through the woods on missions to free friends and seek vengeance for unjust acts that had been committed in our territory. Literally jumping 30 feet in the air from one tree to the next was no large task, it was done almost automatically when a foe approached and was gaining fast on you. Especially when you carry a wound from a battle, the adrenaline will make you do crazed things. Without hesitation or second thought we commonly committed feats which would have caused our parents to banish us from the woods. Trees were used to cut down and turn into weapons. There were throwing sticks, swords, staffs, and an entire array of undecipherable weapons that were used. Going into battle included tying sticks to your shins so sword blows wouldn't hurt and using sap to thicken the skin on your hands so when the sword went uncontrollably smashing into your hands it wouldn't hurt as bad. I proudly wore the title of king of the mountain.
a dull grey colour as if it had lost the will to live and stopped
While reading The Stranger I noticed that traits that Albert Camus character depicts in the book are closely related to the theories of Sigmund Freud on moral human behavior. Albert Camus portrays his character of Meursault as a numb, emotionless person that seems to mindlessly play out his role in society, acting in a manner that he sees as the way he’s supposed to act, always living in the moment with his instincts driving him, and if the right circumstance presents itself the primal deep seeded animal will come out. I believe that most of the character’s traits fall under Freud’s notion of the Id and Ego mental apparatus, and don’t believe that his idea of the super-ego is represented in this book.
In Henrik Ibsen’s play, “Ghosts,” Ibsen portrayed the significance of how society’s system of perpetuation of the original standards and morality, could corrupt the new generation’s idea of a proper society. Ibsen also shows the audience how social status, as well as situations involving moral standards of a family, could corrupt peoples’ views of morality.
The night ebbed in the darkness brUGHT t about the memory of the most tragic event in the history of the small town of Greenville. Not knowing the tragedy that would unfold the citizens rested quietly in the slumber of that hot August night. Storm clouds loomed on the horizon with blazes of light that speckled the sky. In the distance the soft rumble of thunder brought no alarm to this quiet little town. Jenny and Blade lived in the rural area of green pine forests on the outskirts of this sleepy little town. Nowhere in the history of Greenville had such a tragedy happens, and no one was aware of the destruction that loomed on the horizon. As the night closed near the midnight hour, the wind seemed to awaken the lifeless living things in
Not many people think of death as something that can be survived. After all, death is an escapable aspect of life for all things on Earth. There are, however, instances where death stares one in the face and is repelled at the last moment. This is the closest one can be to experiencing death, for death is the interruption of anymore experiences. The avoidance of death, whether just or not, will have the same everlasting effect. The survivor will forever carry that moment with them, haunted by the injustice done to them. Robbed of the serenity that death can offer from bleak scenarios, life becomes devoid of the vibrancy it once possessed. The survivor becomes a ghost with a physical form, a remnant of their former selves with