Looking up to the top of the hill the structure appeared to looked more like an old abandoned prison or perhaps an insane-asylum rather than the once most glorious hotel in all of Hollywood. As I stepped through the creaky old doors I could see the windows were covered in dust, and in much need of cleaning. I peered up to the high ceiling to see that there was water stains and bad structural damage, as if the roof were going to collapse at any given moment. The old man behind the front counter was scrawny, I could see the bones under stretched out skin, his wrinkly skin looked like a brown paper bag wrinkled up and was tossed to the side. I walked up to him, “I need my room key, and hurry with it!” The he looked up at me as if I had spoken to him in a different language. I asked the man again a little more impatient, however he still did nothing. Angry at him now, I shouted “CAN SOMEONE WHO IS NOT SUCH AN IMBECILE COME AND HELP ME!” A man looked up from his newspaper, but no one came. …show more content…
Looking at the nametag across his chest “Well then Burrell, get me my key.” What a dumb name I thought to myself, and I added “and, this is a very inadequate hotel, I mean look at those windows!” Burrell glared at me then, handed the key and I went to the elevator. The key slide in and opened the door with an ear shattering screech. Stupid hotel, and I slammed the door behind me. Peeling off my clothes that I was wearing that day, I put a fresh pair of pajamas on. I hopped on the bed. There was an old spring stabbing into my back. Why is this such an awful hotel? I thought to myself. I turned on the TV in my room. The only thing on was cheesy old horror movies. So I started to watch one, since there was nothing else to do. All of a sudden the power went out, and a cold chill sped down my spin. I grabbed for the candle on the nightstand, and for the box of match in the
The first half of my book “The Cellar” written by Natasha Preston, was so good that I could not put the book down. The girl, at that point, had no memories which include her name and anything before she woke up on a dirty, bloody cabin floor. She looked down at her throbbing hand and found that two of her fingernails were missing.
Zero awoke to find himself standing, it was not something he was familiar with and he searched his memory for any recollection of it happening before. Quickly he discovered that large parts of his memory were missing, gone were the seemingly endless data bases of information. Quickly he sent out feelers trying for a connection of some sort but he drew a blank. It seemed that where ever he was now, had limited connection capacity. Instead he used his visual feed to survey his surrounding, it appeared he was in some kind of desert of discarded parts.
I could hear the car engines roaring to life, horns honk above me. Tiny footsteps echo throughout the tunnel as I leant up against a brick wall. The tunnel seemed to carry on forever like there was no ending. Yellow dimmed lights lead through the path of the tunnel. I tried to control my breathing which got heavier by the second.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
I didn’t know what happened, but worse, I didn’t know what was happening. The sounds of footsteps neared my body, but I was too hurt to react.
The morning could not come early enough for young Charles, who awoke before anyone else in the small cabin had roused from sleep. At first light, he noticed that the sky was dark and dreary when he returned from the outhouse. Bluish-black, weighty clouds hung low on the horizon and thunder rumbled in the distance. In his mind, Charles saw him and his mother walking through a storm- it was thundering and lightning; rain fell so heavily, they could barely see five feet in front of them. Crestfallen, Charles surely thought it was going to be a stormy, rain-swept day as he waited on the front porch for his mother to wake and the sun to continue rising. When it did, the dark clouds dissipated and the sky turned brilliant blue. A very mild breeze blew; with it, it carried a bouquet of honeysuckle, Ligustrum, and crepe jasmine… It was going to be a beautiful day on the mountain; Charles smiled.
1883. There she sat. Staring blankly at the rotten, white wall. The enclosed room was rather small: only one window with bars securing it. Ophelia thought and thought.
Trapped Charlie woke up with the biggest headache he ever had struggled with. The bright sun glared into his eyes, and the humid air was so thick he felt he could cut it with a knife. Sitting up, Charlie took in his surroundings. Surrounding him was strange foliage he had never seen. Trees with trunks that looked like the skin of a pineapple towered above him.
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
A Cabin Catastrophe By Nathan Hart “Where are we disappearing to again?” I inquired. “A resort area named Innsbrook,” my mother riposted impatiently. “Where are my orders of business!” I asked no single person in particular.
I woke up in a tiny, unfamiliar bed to the sound of either a gunshot or an engine backfiring. I rolled out of bed onto a cold, artificial feeling floor and squinted as the sun glinted off of the steel bars covering the room’s single window. I put on a fresh set of clothes that someone had hastily folded and dropped on the floor. I took one last look at the window, catching a glimpse of skyscrapers in the distance, and headed out of this new room. Then I stubbed my toe on a stove. The pain immediately cleared the early morning haze in my brain. I definitely wasn't in my own house, I don’t live in a city, have bars over my windows, and my bedroom certainly doesn't open directly into the kitchen.
I take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. How bad could it be? 4 people fall from the sky... What could happen?
attire stood up and with her little boy in tow, took a deep breath and
The hallways always seemed to have a chill around this place. The cold, crisp, and synthetic air the roamed through the interior of the Venator Class cruiser (fig. 1) felt better than naturally produced oxygen of a planet. Too hundreds of thousands of clone soldiers, Venator Class cruisers were home. After being in countless battles, the cruiser known as The Providence had become a well-known vessel amongst the outer rim territories. This cruiser was what CT-2532 called home. CT-2532 was just his rank number, he preferred to be called Jex.
His fingers curled tightly around the splintering wood lining a doorframe he should have replaced years ago. The tiny shards bit into his skin, throwing pinpricks of pain across his palm. It was a testament to his indecisiveness that he barely felt it.