The moving truck crawled to a stop in front of the tiny house next door. I watched out the window, interested in who might be moving in. A frail old lady wrapped her arm around her husband’s as they walked up the slightly sloped driveway. The man caught me staring out the window and smiled unexpectedly. My face grew hot and red with embarrassment as I smiled back. I looked down at the scattered mess of homework that covered my desk. The sun hit the giant purple crystal around my neck perfectly, creating a distorted reflection of light on the wall.
Forcing myself to focus, I inserted a calm sounding CD into my CD player. My pencil danced across the paper, adding and dividing numbers that really made no sense to me. I looked at the clock on
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There was no doubt in my mind someone had been staring at me. My room stood still as shadows from passing cars danced across my walls. For moments I considered going to my mother's room, however I felt locked in my bed, weighed down with fear. I looked around and my eyes caught on my window. Once again, I saw the eyes of the old man next door, peering through my window. This time, he wasn’t standing in his window like last time. He was directly outside my window, standing with only the scarce light of the moon to light his face. I sat up slowly in my bed, keeping my eyes on him. He noticed and began to walk back to his house, again, as if nothing was wrong.
After he left, my eyes did not want to close. I did not feel safe in my own house but why? What made this random man feel the need to watch me as I slept? I had to know. I sat at my desk and watched the man as he slowly turned the handle of his door, returning to his home. The lights in his house shifted from off to on as he made his way through the tiny house and to his
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I looked around, knowing that finally no one was around. I fled from my house and quickly went a few feet down the road to where the old couple had now lived. The steps creaked as I crept up to the door, and I looked either way before turning the doorknob. They had not locked it before they left. The hinges on the door made a horrible screeching noise as I slowly pushed it open. Unopened moving boxes looked as if they were strategically placed simply as decoration. The only box that appeared to have the seal broken was a box near the kitchen counter labeled in bold black letters, “Lila”. I could tell someone had been sitting here previously because of the glass of water and reading glasses next to it. I placed my hands in the box and pulled out stacks of papers mixed with photographs. My heart dropped as I pulled a photo from the pile that looked exactly like me. The girl in the photograph appeared to be slightly younger but possessed all the same facial features as me. She wore a colorful sweater with a sweet smile and had a purple crystal hanging from her neck. I held onto my necklace, astounded by the similarities. I turned the photo around and on the back, shaky handwriting spelled out “RIP Sweet Daughter Lila, 1971-1982”. It all made sense to me. As I flipped through the photos, each one seemed more and more like me. Suddenly a loud voice behind me
That night:Tonight I am hoping he doesnt come back in here so I dont have to deal with it but he came.And with him was most likely nothing but trouble.I sat silently on my bed as he creaked that door open.I am planning on staying still until he leaves.But he sat there still opening it,centimeter by centimeter,my guess was he thought he was being
At last I arrived, unmolested except for the rain, at the hefty decaying doors of the church. I pushed the door and it obediently opened, then I slid inside closing it surreptitiously behind me. No point in alerting others to my presence. As I turned my shoulder, my gaze was held by the magnificence of the architecture. It never fails to move me. My eyes begin by looking at the ceiling, and then they roam from side to side and finally along the walls drinking in the beauty of the stained glass windows which glowed in the candle light, finally coming to rest on the altar. I slipped into the nearest pew with the intention of saying a few prayers when I noticed him. His eyes were fixated upon me. I stared at the floor, but it was too late, because I was already aware that he wasn’t one of the priests, his clothes were all wrong and his face! It seemed lifeless. I felt so heavy. My eyes didn’t want to obey me. Neither did my legs. Too late I realised the danger! Mesmerised, I fell asleep.
Every night at midnight, the narrator, ventured into the old man's room without making a sound, to observe the very eye at which made his blood run cold. The old man did not suspect a thing. During the day the narrator continued to go about his daily routine, and even went so far as to ask the old man every morning if he slept well the night before. Upon the eighth midnight of the nightly ritual, the narrator proceeded to the old man's room as usual; however, this night was different. As he slipped cat-like into the room, the old man sat up suddenly in his bed, crying out "Who's there?" The narrator stood there silently for over an hour, as did the old man who did not lie back down. Finally he opened the lantern ever so slightly, letting in only a single dim ray, only to see that the eye was wide open. "It was wide open, and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness— all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones."(Edger). Then suddenly he heard "a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when wrapped in cotton."(Edger). This prompted the narrator to leap into the room, drag the old man off the bed, and pulled the heavy bed over him. After carefully checking to make sure that the man was dead, he proceeded to chop up the body, and discretely bury the pieces under the planks of the floor. Not long after, the police came because of a shriek reported by a neighbor. The narrator invited the officers in and sat them r...
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.
Ok. One night my sister and I were at my father’s house. He lives in Kingsville on 10 maybe 9 acres of land in this [small pause, looks at ceiling] I wouldn’t really call it a farmhouse, just a kind of small house out there. The previous person who lived in the house was supposedly shipped to an asylum, for, you know, normal stuff [pause] schizophrenic or something. My sister and I were at the house one night and we were cleaning up the house while my dad was on some sort of job out of the state and my step mom was at work in the hospital. We were doing our stuff, and then the power flickered, and came back on. We didn’t think anything of it. Then, outside of the door, we heard a noise, kinda like a dog barking, but like, just enough not so that we knew it wasn’t. So, we hear this noise, and start to get fre...
It was late I thought. Almost midnight yet I was still unable to sleep. I stared thoughtlessly at the moving shadows mumbling to myself, "it was just a story" but in my heart I knew it wasn't, it was more than a story, much, much more. Then, a crow appeared in the middle of my room. The crow stared at me with such intensity that I fell backwards into the safety of my pillow. I stared at the crow in shock as it disappeared into my closet and that's when I heard it, a long piercing whine that was like a nail to a chalkboard. I prayed that it would go away, I prayed with all my heart but it stayed there continuing its long whine. It was then when I caught a glimpse of it. I saw two glowing bloodshot eyes stare at me. I let out a scream born from terror and almost immediately my dad came bursting into my room. He stared at me with confusion but all I could do was point a shaking finger at my closet door. Cautiously, my father marched into the closet door only to find nothing inside. Then, without warning, the closet door slammed shut along with my father still inside.
Squatting on the ground, I was weeping. I couldn’t see anything, not even my hand although it was not far from me. I made my eyes widely open to make sure if my eyes went blind or not. When it was around 8pm, I started looking for the window. Touching my hands on the corners of the room, I finally found it. I used up all my energy opening the window, but it was covered with hard dust and it was rigid. I fell down, and cried a lot. I couldn’t sleep throughout the whole night, because I was hungry and thirsty. In addition to this, it was cold in the middle of that night. I was shivering and coughing persistently. Time passed, and it was early in the morning, but nothing
Truck driving is a difficult job which requires great responsibility of transferring the goods from one place to other far place with proper safety. Genuine CDL training is required by every aspiring truck driver to attain essential skills as a professional driver. These training programs are meant not only help the students learn about the possible ways to handle and manage their trucks in most adverse traffic and weather conditions, but also, this training helps them to learn how to prevent any major loss of the goods during the transference.
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.
I saw her walk over to the dressing table. I watched her appear in the circular glass of the mirror looking at me now at the end of a back and forth of mathematical light. I watched her keep on looking at me with her great hot-coal eyes: looking at me while she opened the little box covered with pink mother of pearl. I saw her powder her nose. When she finished, she closed the box, stood up again, and walked over to the lamp once more, saying: "I'm afraid that someone is dreaming about this room and revealing my secrets." And over the flame she held the same long and tremulous hand that she had been warming before sitting down at the mirror. And she said: "You don't feel the cold." And I said to her: "Sometimes." And she said to me: "You must feel it now." And then I understood why I couldn't have been alone in the seat. It was the cold that had been giving me the certainty of my solitude. "Now I feel it," I said. "And it's strange because the night is quiet. Maybe the sheet fell off." She didn't answer. Again she began to move toward the mirror and I turned again in the chair, keeping my back to her.
It was a beautiful night. It was perfect for a walk. As I strolled further into the park a figure approached me. It was as dark as pitch so I couldn’t make out who it was. It was late; you wouldn’t usually see anyone at this time. My heart was beating faster and faster. The strange thing was I wasn’t frightened; it was just my heart beating rapidly. As the masculine figure approached, I began to walk slower. That was when I heard the voice.
A crisp uneasiness floated amongst the breeze, taking my attention and turning it to the shadow of a figure lingering on the steps to my neighbors entrance. For a moment I believed that my eyes had deceived me, that a phantom had played tricks with my mind. But as the outline disappeared, stealing with it any doubt I may have held, my head felt dizzy. My heart beat so loud I was sure he could hear it as I ran across the lawn. My heart sinking with each step, knowing it was a trick.
Foot by foot, my father moves closer to the door. We cross the doorway. The light from all the windows I had been missing blinds me like a bat in the midday sun. I had been in such a dark place for so long that I lost all sense of light. My brother comes out of the room being carried by a tall, middle-aged woman with long brown hair—my
I turned my head slightly, looking at the light shining on another apartment building. I looked a little closer at one of the windows, and saw something rather odd. It seemed like a silhouette of a man staring directly at me with a pair of binoculars. It seemed out of place, so I decided to ignore it, thinking ‘I must just be seeing things. Must be the tiredness of waking up multiple times at night.’
I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be seeing these long finger shaped shadows that stretched out to me. I had this gut feeling as though something was following me, but I assured myself that I was the only one in the forest. At least I had hoped that I was.