The rain was pouring down even more heavily now. A young woman ran into the neglected barn and closed the door, she hid behind a stack of hay. The barn door creaked open slowly, and standing there was a large man, in his hands he held a hatchet, it was not very sharp, but it did not have to be for the purpose for which it was intended. He walked in and looked around, he saw no sign of the woman. As the man was about to walk away, the woman peeked out from behind the hay and in doing so knocked over a bucket, sealing her fate. The man turned around and approached her slowly, she was whimpering softly, too afraid to scream or to move. The man stopped in front of her and smiled, as he lifted the hatchet above his head, the woman uttered a final prayer.
Six o’clock, time to get up and prepare for work. Another restless night of tossing and turning. Jack got up and went into the bathroom, his hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot. Jack had been living quite happily until a couple of months ago, when he started having strange and violent nightmares which kept him awake at night. The...
time to have fun and roll a large boulder off the edge to watch it be
"I am down on whores and shant quit ripping them until I do get buckled,” (Pulditor 48). That statement was sent from Jack the Ripper himself to Scotland Yard, a detective in the case. Jack the Ripper was a horrendous serial killer that preyed on prostitutes in the late 1880s (Pulditor 45-47). Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Kate Eddowes, and Mary Kelly are five of the prostitutes’ murdered by Jack the Ripper (Anderson 10-51). Although the true identity of Jack the Ripper has never been identified, experts have investigated Prince Albert Victor, Thomas Neill Cream, and Montague John Druitt as prime suspects.
The glistening sun rises; it's visually impairing light shines upon my closed eyelids forcing me to wake up. I slowly look around the cramped stuffy room. The tired worn out men were fast asleep; probably dreaming about the mystical day we all achieve our long wished fantasy, to finally get out of this ranch and live our own life’s freely. Lennie woke up startled then violently rolled out of his squeaky bunk. “Good morning Lennie” I softly whispered. He silently whispered back “good morning George” with a huge pleased grin from ear to ear across his smug face.
“The house is settling,” my Italian carer would say as the lights dimmed and glowed in her ghostly presence… but this wasn’t all the house did. I slept in my room. Well, not really slept. Sleep was never something I did much of, especially early on. My worries at seven pm far outweighed my need for sleep. Awake. Forever awake. My father had left me. My mother…
Me and my brother Kyle, we were walking down this long and lonesome road, when all of a sudden there shined a shiny teacher, in the middle of the road, and she said, write the best speech in the world, or I’ll eat your soul. If you haven’t figured it out already I chose to do my speech on the great Thomas Black or better known as Jack Black. Actor, comedian, singer songwriter, and lead vocalist for tenacious D.
In “The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky,” Stephen Crane uses humor to illustrate the East coming to the old West. Crane uses three characters throughout this parody to demonstrate the change approaching the West. Jack Potter is the main character, and Crane uses his marriage to the unnamed bride to illustrate civilization coming to the old West.
At the beginning of the third chapter in Lord of the Flies, Jack Merridew is out hunting for a pig to eat. This phrase and the surrounding paragraphs show some crucial characterization of the future savage chief, and describe him as “dog-like”(48), naked besides weapons and fraying shorts, and his eyes appear to be“...bolting and nearly mad”(48). Jack is tensed, frustrated, and searching for something to kill. The word still typically does not have a negative denotation, but the zeugma at play in this circumstance modifies it in its meaning relating to Jack, or he. The framework of the forest in this chapter is a more commonplace way to imagine the verb still. The air is warm, and the thick trees are all around the character at hand. The two
was left of the murderer, so in a way the police were not too blame,
The Whitechapel Murders and those of Jack the Ripper are not generally one and the same. Over a period of three years towards the end of the nineteenth century a number of prostitutes were murdered under different circumstances – the murder of prostitutes was not an especially unique occurrence during those times but several of the murders drew particular attention on account of the savagery with which the victim’s bodies were mutilated. Within the Whitechapel Murders was a cluster of murders that demonstrated sufficient similarities as to suggest that they were committed by the same person. One of the first instances of serial murder was thus identified and sensationalised in the media as the work of ‘Jack the Ripper’, nicknamed on the strength of a letter, probably a hoax, sent to the Central News Agency and claiming responsibility for the killings. Jack the Ripper was a man, and the killer surely was a man, who did not have the intention to merely kill his victims; he needed to mutilate them. Such was the savagery of his attacks and the enthusiasm of the press, that he successfully terrorised the environs of Whitechapel in East London for several years. In spite of an extensive investigation of the killings, Jack the Ripper was never apprehended nor convincingly identified.
Jack The Ripper Jack the Ripper, as he was rightly called, was an infamous murderer in London, England in 1888, almost one hundred years ago. Jack the Ripper is by no stretch of the imagination the first serial killer ever, but the first to do so in a largely populated area, although it seemed he had no malice for other people. Although the number of kills under the belt of Jack the Ripper is unofficial, it is estimated to be around four to seven women, all prostitutes within the area. He also had no accomplice’s or accessories to the crime. Another fact was that Jack the Ripper escaped scott-free, with no charges.
Any individual may seem to be innocent and harmless, but in reality every living being has the capability to be evil. In the story Lord of the Flies by William Golding, some of the most innocent characters allow the evil half of their mind to control them. One example of evil on the island is when Roger murders Piggy in cold blood. This shows how he had progressed from throwing small stones around Henry to pushing a large boulder down a cliff, killing Piggy. Also, the entire group takes part in the murder of Simon, because they fear it is the beast. This brings up a new point about how anybody can access the evil part of their mind while in fear. Then, at the top of the food chain, there is Jack Merridew. Jack wants everything to do with violence
Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, sensing the minutes tick by for what seemed like the hundredth night in a row; Cassie knew the feeling well. . Every few minutes or so her eyes would flick over to the glowing red numbers as they grew closer and closer to the time her alarm would go off, signalling a new day. The demonic red numbers switched to three in the morning, and the time for sleep fell to four hours. Cassie forced an inhale, and then breathed out slowly. It had been hours now, since she had persuaded herself to lie down in bed, yet her mind was still reeling from the day previous. It wasn’t as if anything spectacular had happened, those sorts of events seemed to save themselves until Cassie was already near a breaking point. Today
Jacob, the son of Isaac and Rebekah, and the twin brother of Esau, was born in Canaan, around 2,000 BC. Even before his birth, great things had been predicted of him by the Spirit of the Lord. It was prophesized that although he was the younger born of the twins, he should have dominion, and be the father of a great and powerful nation. The predictions also included his descendents would reign supreme over all the descendents of his elder brother, Esau (Blunt 123).
There was an impending doom coming to the small town of Calamity. Unbeknownst to the citizens it would come firstly upon a church on the outskirts of a town. A few people were inside as the doom came closer. Preacher Tom was the first one in the church to sees what would haunt the town and was scared out of his wits. He pushes a young woman out of the doorway as he speeds into the church. He continues to bar the door and close up all of the windows as the surprised group stares on at him with suspicion. He dropped to his knees and prayed as a loud noise echoed through the building. The crowd began to scream as the windows rattled and the building swayed. All of a sudden, a whimper could be heard from the back side of the building. The sound was unmistakable, it was the tiny voice of little Lisa Cunningham. Mrs. Hamm hobbled quickly over to the door before anyone else could react. She threw the door open as Father Ted finally came to his senses. Lisa flung herself through the door into the arms of Mrs. Hamm. Father Ted lunged for the door and slammed his shoulder into it right before an unknown force bashed against the other side. Mrs. Hamm grasped the child as and attempted to console her as a sharp pain erupted in her breast. She looked down and saw a dark stain growing on her blue dress and jerked the child away. Everyone’s eyes went wide as they saw the scene unfolding before them. Lisa stood smiling; face covered in blood, and began to laugh hysterically. Mrs. Hamm was becoming hysterical as well, as she noticed that one side of her chest had become smaller than the other as a huge chunk had been bitten away by the child.
The thick burnt scent of roasted coffee tickled the tip of my nose, just seconds before the old faithful alarm blurted a distorted top-forty through its tiny top speaker. As I wiped away the grit from last night’s sleep, the stark white sunlight blinded me momentarily as I slung my arm along the top of the alarm, searching for an off button. While stretching my hands and feet to the four posts of my bed, my eyes opened after several watery blinks. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I crawled out of the comforter, edging awkwardly like a butterfly from a cocoon. The dusty pebbles on the chilled wood floor sent ripples spiralling from my ankles to the nape of my neck, when my feet hit the floor. Grabbing my emerald robe, recently bathed in fabric softener and a wintry wind, I knotted it tightly at my waist like a prestigious coat of armour. I walked over to the window of the hotel I was staying at, at Palm Beach. I looked outside. I just couldn’t believe that, for the first time in my life, I was in Australia.