The heavy darkness around me consumed everything, displaying but the shimmering reflection in the pools of blood I was walking in. The flashlight in my hand flickered out of life, leaving me in the never, ending blackness. I held my hands against the dry, lifeless wall hoping to be guided to an exit by it. Each step made me fear the worst, that the wall was going to end and I had nothing left to guide me.
The smell of the place was horrific a mix of old, rusted metal, with decaying dryness from the blood, making a truly horrific odour. If this wasn’t how every house and street smelled I would have puked apon entering. There were mice and bugs everywhere starring at me, waiting for me to drop dead so that they may feast on my lifeless corpse. The dust in the air made it hard to breath, making each breath I took almost choke me, but I couldn’t do that I had to be silent. The smell of from my cloths was worse then all this combined, as it was covered in the blood of these things to make us “blend in”.
I was shaking from fear and didn’t realise I had tipped the glass from a lamp of s...
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.
The dozens of dirty rats, the masses of maggots, the decaying body, cloaked in the odor of it’s own feces. The sounds also add to the nightmarish sounds as well. The skittering and squeaking of rats, the deafening buzzing of flies, the grotesque squirming of maggots. Everything works together to support the claim. By the end of the chapter, the tone has changed to a feeling of calm. The chapter until now has been violent and dark, every sentence inflicting more and more pain upon the narrated. But in this part of the story, the author states that the narrated heard “...A velvety blackness that rebounds from side to side, and then wraps around him gently as he slides to the floor at the wall, a spot that now feels safe and his own. With his back comforted by the wall, he draws his knees up to his ribs and lingers with his thoughts as he drifts off towards sleep.” (Toth 9). This quote induces images of a big, empty space. The scene that the author paints is serene. Without people or obstacles or dangers, but a space that belongs to the narrated alone. The phrase “safe and his own,” really helps to give off that
The deathly ringing of the clock resonated throughout the chambers and faded away like they always had. But this time, the festivities did not flare back to life, for the new figure had control over the attention of everyone. This unique figure was shrouded in a robe as black as a void that covered all of his body except for his face, which was concealed by a peculiar mask. Contrary to the darkness of the robes, the lean mask was a pure, ghostly white with two blood red, curved lines, thicker at the top of the mask and thinner towards the bottom, through the eyes which were void holes. The air around him was cold and stale, like death lingered around him, waiting for its next victim. From the outskirts of the crowd, he moved in closer to the revelers, with each step echoing unnaturally loud. People shuffled away from him, afraid some terrible fate may befall them if they get close in proximity to him, as he strolled toward some unknown destination.
The second section alludes to the odor of decaying flesh emanating from Miss Emily?s home. The townspeople explain the sm...
The description of the smell in the meat house was a horrible experience to the reader who actually did not witness the insident"it is an elemental odor, raw and crude, it is rich, almost sensual and strong.
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.
,black room as the ominous endpoint, the room the guests fear just as they fear death.
There are some areas that are not shown to visitors, such as the fertilizer rooms and the men who work there “for the odor of a fertilizer man would scare any ordinary visitor at a hundred yards (134). The smells of a fertilizer man are so intense that while sitting at the dinner table the stench would cling to the food and “set the whole family to vomiting” (163). The aromas throughout Packingtown are nothing akin to the bountiful flowers and sweet tasting smells found in a jungle. The stockyard aromas are not in harmony with Sinclair’s title. The smells are that of desolation and despair brought upon by the predators that trolled all over
In life there are many roads we walked down. I have seen them all, been there done that. Yet, I continue to walk down the same road day after day, to find myself falling short and falling in hole I can barely, and scarcely crawl out of. Until one day I fell in a hole so dark and so deep that I, myself, could not get out. I sat in this hole for what seemed like years, alone, cold, and afraid. And that's
The trail upon which I found myself was overgrown with foliage, hampering my process through the dark, infected woods. As I rounded what appeared to be the final bend, a large ominous clearing yawned before me. I came to an abrupt halt and was cautiously astonished to hear the insistently loud crying of an abandoned baby. Imagine my surprise when my feet moved of their own accord, drawing me closer and closer to the forlorn whimpering to which the cries had died down to. Though my mind was in a feverish state, a clear part of the cerebrum remembered something bad, something so horrible indeed, that I feared to imagine it; lest I should drown in the murky depths of guilt.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
The smell over whelming in the air. The brunt flesh cast a shadow with the dark smoke
¦terminating in a gloomy red light and a gloomier entrance to a black tunnel…there was a barbarous, depressing and forbidding air. So little sun... ... middle of paper ... ... ¦Surely there is a cruel haunting of me. What can I do?
We all remember these grey gloomy days filled with a feeling of despair that saddens the heart from top to bottom. Even though, there may be joy in one’s heart, the atmosphere turns the soul cold and inert. Autumn is the nest of this particular type of days despite its hidden beauty. The sun seems foreign, and the nights are darker than usual enveloped by a thrill that generates chills to travel through the spine leaving you with a feeling of insecurity. Nevertheless, the thinnest of light will always shine through the deepest darkness; in fact, darkness amplifies the beauty and intensity of a sparkle. There I found myself trapped within the four walls of my house, all alone, surrounded by the viscosity of this type of day. I could hear some horrifying voices going through my mind led by unappealing suicidal thought. Boredom had me encaged, completely at its mercy. I needed to go far away, and escape from this morbid house which was wearing me down to the grave. Hope was purely what I was seeking in the middle of the city. Outside, the air was heavy. No beautifully rounded clouds, nor sunrays where available to be admired through the thick grey coat formed by the mist embedded in the streets. Though, I felt quite relieved to notice that I was not alone to feel that emptiness inside myself as I was trying to engage merchant who shown similar “symptoms” of my condition. The atmosphere definitely had a contagious effect spreading through the hearts of every pedestrian that day. Very quickly, what seemed to be comforting me at first, turned out to be deepening me in solitude. In the city park, walking ahead of me, I saw a little boy who had long hair attached with a black bandana.
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.