I am student 658454T, and I will be portraying my own character Addison. Addison is a young English girl who has recently been orphaned by her parents, abandoned by her Father and recently lost her Mother tragic death in a fire. Addison as an orphan is constantly being driven around from home to home until she comes to the ‘Ballmain Orphanage for Girls’. The haunted orphanage leaves her with an un present being watching her every nightly move. The scene is set in her dark room of the orphanage with no light but a slight crack in the roof softly illuminating the small rickety room. In the room a rocking chair is placed facing the wall opposite to the bed where Addison sits writing in her diary. (writing in diary) Ghosts have always been with …show more content…
me. Not by choice. At least not with my blessing. It just happens. I don't want to believe… but they’ve forced themselves into my life. Perhaps the old Italian woman did it to me.
I lived in her house way to long as a child. (look at ceiling) At night, footsteps paced the ceiling. Over and over, an impatient march, forever in step to the silent drum. If only this had been my only encounter, I could dismiss it. “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… (grab photo and caress …show more content…
it) I was always worried she would leave me too. (look exhausted) I wish the ghosts would go. But they linger. Always lingering. Never really gone. (walk to the chair at the end of the bed and turn it to face her bed). As I have entered this home the old Italian woman has been my first other side encounter. She sat at my side, all in white. As my eyes met hers she gave me a worried look as if i was the one who had long expired (slowly pull the blanket above head to hide). I Fear making my head sink deeply into covers. My eyes entombed by my lids. How long she waited, I’ll never know. By dawn I ventured a look. (lower blanket) She was gone… or perhaps she was never there.
Spirits dog me. Just when I no longer believe, they appear. Flashing white lights. A cold touch. They return. (uneasy shiver) Even now. (Expression grows dark) But this time it was too much. Another place. Another spirit. This time it was someone I knew. (Slowly grow to panic) It started with the call. The news that she had gone away. Finding myself in tears. Tears draining me dry. Would the tears ever stop? Pain like a thick metal pole shoved through your heart. (Tries to calm down) I had lost so much. An emptiness replaces love, anxious to find, nothing there… no body anyway, but something. Something that creaks open doors. Something the dog barks at… nothing… yet something. Finding things in new places, things missing. The doors I once locked… open. (Tries to calm down) Explanations are endless, Knowledge becomes our protection. (Think a moment. Frown and shiver) It began with the cold. Spots of cold. A moment of normal then cold, as if the heat were sucked into another dimension. These don’t bother me as much as the touch. A handless touch of nothing. Something grabbed by arm but no one was there. (Pulls back in fear and pace to bed) I buried myself in covers and waited for dawn. (Throw blanket.
Pause) You’re never too old to hide under the covers. Wrapping yourself up into a cocoon. Hoping that when you emerge life will be butterflies again. (sigh and sit up) But only children believe in butterflies. Adults know… or learn… that life is full of moths, caterpillars, and worms. (Pause) But when I’m alone… fear sets in. I wonder… do I really want to be alone? Maybe their visits comfort me. (Turn to photo of parents) Was it you that touched me that day? (Sadly) And if you are still here, why do I feel so alone? (Caress arms and burry head in knees)
That evening, as we lowered the lights, we thought we heard a quiet, muted humming of an old sailor’s song as the hallway floor creaked under what sounded like light footsteps.
Elliot tells the story of Dasani, an eleven-year-old living with seven siblings, mother, and father all in one room in the Auburn Family Residence, a worn out city-run shelter for the homeless (Elliot). Auburn Family Residence is covered in mold, roaches, feces, and is where predators prey on small children (Elliot). Dasani takes care of her family, mostly her baby sister, making sure she can give her all she needs. Her parents, Chanel and Supreme, are dysfunctional, unemployed, and have a history of arrest and drugs abuse (Elliot). Although Dasani’s life is very tragic, she still has hope that not only she can make it out of this lifestyle, but also her family will be able to make it out as well. Even though Dasani is homeless, she still manages to go to Susan S. McKinney Secondary School of the Arts, where most students are black and live in the surrounding projects (Elliot). In this first part of Dasani’s life, Elliot describes how teachers believe that Dasani is intelligent, even though she sometimes gets in trouble. Since her parents are unemployed, on a good month they receive around a few hundred dollars, but never seem to make it last (Elliot). Not only does this story include very descriptive details about Dasani’s life, but it also includes unsatisfactory descriptive pictures of Dasani’s home and school. In this mini-series, Elliot was open to a lot of criticism because of how she depicts Dasani's life. (Add another or two sentence about
I stepped into the middle of the road and just stood there, the lights stretching in either direction, glowing in the deep chilly air. I could see my own breath, could feel my own warmth as it formed right there in front of me. Behind me, our house looked dark, faint lingering of I'd walk a million miles, and I wasn't even sure if it was really playing or if I was imagining the familiar, the same way a bright light remain when you close your eyelids, the way I imagine that the sight of an eclipse would burn its image into your eyes forever(pg.
As David Hufford said, in Beings Without Bodies, much of folk belief about spirits is found to be reasonable. This account is reported under his experience-centered theory. Hufford said much of the belief of spirits is reasonable as it is established on logical understanding from a person’s own experience. However, Hufford said not all beliefs are backed up by experience or even evidence. Some beliefs are made purely on faith. (Hufford p.11)
My mind started to wonder though each room of the house, the kitchen where mom used to spend every waking hour in. The music room where dad maintained the instrument so carefully like one day people would come and play them, but that day never came, the house was always painfully empty. The house never quite lived to be the house my parents wanted, dust bunnies always danced across the floor, shelves were always slightly crooked even when you fixed them. My parents were from high class families that always had some party to host. Their children were disappointments, for we
You are alone at night, and all you have is a flashlight that doesn't work and a sleeping bag. Then you see a church and decide to go behind it to stay away from a person’s eyes. When you get there you put everything down and put new batteries in your flashlight. When you start doing this, you hear voices around you and start wondering if you are not alone. Looking everywhere you find nothing, then you come back where you were and your stuff has been moved. Then you start wondering around and you come upon a mental cover covered with grass. You open it up and you find stairs and your curiosity get the best of you. You head down the stairs and then you feel like something is pulling you down. You get down there and it feels like you have been down there for weeks and when you come back up, you do not remember anything that just happened. This experience has been felt by many people that
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.
I don't know how I came to be walking down this road but I knew I had to do it; it was if my life depended on it, it felt as if a strange force was controlling my every action.
From the title alone, Henrik Ibsen’s, A Doll’s House, carries an adolescent connotation, with dolls holding immediate association with young girls and youth. In this controversial playwright, Ibsen portrays his Danish protagonist as an ignorant juvenile. Set in Copenhagen, Denmark, during the 1880’s, Nora’s childlike character suggests what the lifestyle of many women during that time may have been. Ibsen reveals Nora’s innate, childlike nature incorporating strategic set placement and direction, significant symbols, an array of revealing dialogue, and elaborate description, healthy in detail.
11:14 p.m.-I slowly ascend from my small wooden chair, and throw another blank sheet of paper on the already covered desk as I make my way to the door. Almost instantaneously I feel wiped of all energy and for a brief second that small bed, which I often complain of, looks homey and very welcoming. I shrug off the tiredness and sluggishly drag my feet behind me those few brief steps. Eyes blurry from weariness, I focus on a now bare area of my door which had previously been covered by a picture of something that was once funny or memorable, but now I can't seem to remember what it was. Either way, it's gone now and with pathetic intentions of finishing my homework I go to close the door. I take a peek down the hall just to assure myself one final time that there is nothing I would rather be doing and when there is nothing worth investigating, aside from a few laughs a couple rooms down, I continue to shut the door.
The paranormal is not what most people believe it is, “ghosts”. There is a wide range in
There was a very repetitive but somewhat soothing thumping heartbeat going on in the background. After while, it was in harmony with my heartbeat. I found comfort and security; from a soothing voice and darkness/warmth, I was wrapped in. I felt safe and protected by this place. I was able to move around freely but recently the place began to become a cramped. Instinctively, I knew the time was near. I could not fight it any longer. I did not want to leave. I was in a peaceful place.
Two weeks after her father’s funeral, our protagonist Annie sees his ghost in her bathroom. Knowing he is dead, they small talk about her boyfriend, their farm, their deceased family etc. until he suddenly vanishes. Her father makes occasional appearances after that. They keep talking about everyday life until one night at the Opera House, where she not only sees her father, but her brother and mother as well. Knowing where to find them, she takes her goodbye with her dead family.
but by the end of this day there are feelings I had that I never knew
...th Lina, and I torture myself regretting the constant disagreements we used to have. Flashbacks come to my mind, like in the movies, where there is no sound, only the image of your beloved one smiling or laughing happily. I keep crying and crying, without being able to stop, and even though I know that her departure is for the best, I still cannot picture myself living without my best friend.