Essay on Gothic Horror Story

Once one got nearer, the archway opened up until one could see the whole front of the house in a somehow eerie way. Around the windows grew ivy and creepers, twisting their way up to the roof in a claw like fashion. The windows

Who is the Gothic Villain? Is he a villain/hero? Is he a dangerous lover? The villain is usually dark and handsome, though he might have some tell-tell sign that warns he is wicked. The villains ranged from dark priests to mysterious bandits. Some start out as heroes but turn into villains. The Gothic villain has several identifying characteristics. They are shifty, cunning and can mold their behavior to match the need of the circumstance. Villains will utilize intimidation, deception, and even flattery to attain their objective.

chest as if it were a newborn child in danger. I'd been following her for

The rain outside collided with the metal rain catcher. Small droplets formed on the exterior of each window; all glistening in the yellow light coming from the streetlamp nearby.

Kids raced past me as I gradually walked to the wooden doors. I glanced around but couldn’t see any familiar faces. Hatred spiraled up in me as I stood there and watched them. They seemed calm, as if nothing had happened. How could they just walk by without saying a word? My mind was still in denial of what had just happened.

It was dark and alone and I felt the need to cry. One by one everyone I have ever loved showed up. My mom, my sister, my late girlfriend, my grandma… I could go on. Their eyes were on me and only me. I was the only stimulus in the room. The yelled at me. I was irrational . I had put them in a situation where they didn’t even know me anymore. I was the monster under the bed and I was the reason why people were scared. They yelled so loud to the point where I didn’t even know if they were screams anymore.

I looked around. "Yeah, maybe." She threw out her cigarette and nodded to me before walking back into her room. I stood outside, just watching room five. *What the hell could be in there?* I leaned against the door, put my ear to it and I listened. It was silent for a short while, but I heard a muffled knock come from inside. I continued to listen. Another knock. Then another knock. And then, complete silence. I kept my ear at the door, just listening, waiting. Another knock, but this time, it was against the door. I jumped back, shocked by what had just happened. I knew there was somebody or something in there and the fact that I didn't know who or what it was, had me completely horrified. I just wanted to get far away from that motel.

Inside was very dark. There were about 70 people already inside. After my father got in, the door slammed shut. Darkness overcame all of us. All openings were sealed off, and we were only able to breathe from the tiny holes on the side of the cars. We were unable to sit, or there would not be enough room for everyone. So I stood with my father beside me. There was no food or water, but I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. Though, many people did have hunger and thirst. The only thing given to us was a bucket for human waste. There was a loud whistle, we started to move, and we never saw our home again.

Once upon a time there was a lonely hut, the closest thing to the hermit’s house being castle ruins. The green grass is littered with rocks and pebbles. Everything is calm, balanced even. The morning dew makes the ground shimmer like a mirror, reflecting the dim blue off of the sky. The only thing disturbing the morning peace is the sound of hooves pounding their way through the quiet forest. The horse disrupts the perfect layer of dew covering as far as the eye can see. The rider seems content with the beauty of the forest, it’s looks exactly like the ones that the legends told of. His short brown hair is only slightly affected by the speed he’s going, the loose ends trailing behind him. Green eyes shining brightly with the excitement of a new area to explore. The gleam of anticipation and enthusiasm in his eyes makes them shine brighter than the dew on the grass. He

As she stands at the entrance debating weather to go down or to see if the light will flicker off on its own she’s reminded by the tales her brother used to tell of the women who strives in the dark, cold basement. Gently she starts to ascend the steep, concrete, dusty stairs, feeling her way on the rough, stone walls to the light. Getting further and further away from the warm. bright hall the hair on the back of her neck stands, as the loud click of the door echoes behind her.

“Oh, glory!” Dally whispered. It was one of the worst scenes he’s seen, and Dally has seen a ton of treacherous stuff. The church looked as if it had just gone through a tornado. Half of the doors were broken, all of the windows were smashed to pieces. And most importantly, half of the roof was missing.

We’re adrift in a labyrinth of woven backstreets. A Stygian darkness settles over the pavement. Steam blows up from the gutter and soaks the world in a veil of white fog.

My body quivered to the sound of raindrops crashing against the roof, resembling the sound of desperate souls throwing their fists in both rage and fear. I knew that wasn’t the case but still I had to convince myself that everything was alright. Still I had to convince myself that the ‘banging’ sounds were merely drops of water finding refuge in the cracks that dug into the roof of my own place of refuge, Yungaba.

'The Tell Tale Heart' is located in a house that is probably old as a

on the aid of Hell itself, and to find things familiar in the world of