Vilemore Monologue

When the children first arrive, the negative description of the place sets the tone. The tone created is dull and boring. For instance, the narrator describes the town as colorless and plain. “A string of houses, weathered grey or peeling gray paint” (39-40). The addition of cold weather also sets the tone since cold weather creates a gloomy atmosphere.

It was late in the evening when they first arrived. The beautiful shining moon was contrasted elegantly by the almost obsidian sky, a sky which seemed to hold so many mysteries from ignorant observers such as himself. It was a warm night, with little to no breeze, yet, everyone within the surrounding area property was stricken with goosebumps. Their arrival was signaled by shouting, and a large magnitude of gunfire. From his position in his quarters, he was able to observe the manor being ransacked by the men in blue.

Stumbling about among all those creepers. More grave nodding; they knew about nightmares.” Little children were frightened because they had no mothers to comfort them and protect them from the “beast” because they were stranded on an island in the middle of

POV: SteveI never seen Sodapop look so...gloomy. He was always the happier one of the bunch, but ever since our gang has fallen...with deaths. First it was Johnny and Dally, then Darry and Ponyboy. His own brothers. Two-Bit was off somewhere with his children.

I walked into English that morning just like every morning since August. I took my seat and sat down, talking with Amir and Rebecca as usual. Everything normal, except the unveiling of a new essay. I groaned and got myself ready for the upcoming speech. Ms. Beddingfield started the speech and I managed to keep attentive, not that she 's boring.

Massachusetts, 1692... what an awful time to be alive. Especially for a young, timid girl by the name of Clarabeth. Not exactly the most special of girls, just a hard worker for her family, an all around fair person. Unfortunately, Clarabeth woke from an unpleasant sleep with a start on a gloomy August twilight, to the sound of people shouting and an accused “witch” tied to a stake, crying with the force of a tidal wave, pleading to be let down.

The Bell Witch Cave, Adams, Tennessee This incredible and scary haunting took place centuries ago. It all began in the Bell Family home in 1817. The family began getting disturbances like scratching and knocking noises. Soon other phenomena occured like blankets being pulled from beds, members of the family were gettin scratched, kicked and having their hair pulled.

Today, Shelley gave a brilliant lecture on Dachau. Earlier this year, my mother visited Dachau during a layover in Munich. I found it rather interesting to hear two different perspectives. One standpoint that was consistent between them was that feeling Shelley described, especially when in the crematorium. It is horrifying to fathom the amount of innocent people that were murdered in those rooms.

I very rarely think in words at all. A thought prevails and I may try to express it in words afterwards, but the words are never there to begin with. But sometimes if I’m lucky, I can identify the thought bubble almost instantaneously with what I like to call “special transmitters”. You see, each thought shape has a different feel – sometimes the thoughts are quiet as a mouse, and sometimes it is loud and thunderous. Sometimes it sounds like it is close by, and sometimes it sounds further off.

It was a tranquil ,and foggy night in Sleepy Hollow. The town so quiet you can hear the crow chirp for miles. The moon beaming down on the town which reveals it’s frightening features. The people here are different , they keep to themselves and are very gloomy. Even the very few animals here are different.

I had narrowly escaped the fighting. It didn’t take long for me to find my way taking cover behind a large thicket of trees. Quietly I’d run along the wood, following a long forgotten trail. If I kept going it would lead me to the woods. Ditching was punishable by death in the Imperial Army.

The moon sat perched in the sky, looking over the broken road as though with a lamp in hand. A bluish light washed the slums in an eerie cast, and the cracked cobbles of the road ran with a ghostly stream. The hem of a black trench coat flapped softly in the wintry breeze, and two columns of buttons ran the length of its torso, flashing like round obsidian mirrors. The man beneath the coat kept his hands burrowed in his pockets, hiding them from the cold air of the lifeless night.

INTRO I have done it. I have brought upon the death of another man! I have blood upon my hands. For that I feel I should have changed but desperation has replaced the sorrow I feel for my actions.

When the characters are first introduced the narrator speaks of a ramshackle home at the end of the street and. “Inside the house lived a malevolent phantom... When people’s azaleas froze in a cold snap, it was because he had breathed on them. Any stealthy small crimes committed in Maycomb were his work. Once the town was terrorized by a series of morbid nocturnal events: people’s chickens and household pets were found mutilated; although the culprit was Crazy Addie, who eventually drowned himself in Barker’s Eddy, people still looked at the Radley Place...”

My clothes are folded neatly on the bed, they smell fresh as if they are this way all the time. I heard them over talking (foster parents) the social worker will be here today. I 'm being placed in another home, another dump I 'm sure. I start packing without being told, I know this routine all too well. I can see the Social Worker pull up in her beat up car, I doubt they pay her a lot of money to come transport me though.