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Composition of suspense
How suspense is handled across different genres
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Nate reached the yawning mouth of trees he spotted on his hike two days earlier. An orange marker was in his pocket to mark rocks and trees that would help keep him from getting lost. In another pocket he carried the bear repellant he took from a shelf on his grandparents' back porch. He had sprayed himself with OFF and tucked his pants legs into a pair of his granddad's work boots. He came better prepared for the wild than on his first outing. But after nearly an hour of searching, he'd seen nothing that resembled a cemetery. The woods were bigger and more confusing than he had expected. Even with marking his route, he had spent the first ten minutes walking in a circle. He vowed next time to use a real compass and avoid wasting time determining direction. At the bottom of a woodsy slope, he was debating whether or not it needed climbing when the hum of an engine came through the old growth of trees. Nate took a few steps up the slope for a better look. The noise seemed to come from no particular place. As soon as he thought he had a lock on the location, the sound veered away in another direction. But it kept getting louder, which meant it had to be getting closer. This part of the woods had undergrowth thick enough and tall enough to hide whatever made the noise on the hill. But definitely, it sounded like it was blazing a path toward him. The noise grew louder. Nate could hear the swoosh of branches and the snap of limbs breaking. Seconds later, a swift movement rushed across just a few yards up the hill. It burrowed through a thicket of large ferns and wild hedges. Nate jumped out of its path as it skidded out of control. It flipped on its side and slammed into a downed log about twenty feet away. What the heck? ... ... middle of paper ... ..."Thanks." Nate looked to the way they had come. "So, no practice today. We better get you back up the hill." "Okay, you can call me when you're ready for a lesson. You got something to take down a number on?" "I got a marker. Write your number on this can." Billy took the marker and the can of repellent and smiled as he wrote. "You know, this here spray won't work against an angry bear. It's fine for spraying bears that wanders into your yard, but the best way to handle a bear in the wild is to keep your distant from 'em." "I'll remember that," Nate said, taking back the can and marker. "You can call me if you want. Do your parents have my grandparents' number?" "Yeah, I'll call ya'." He tilted his head like he had reached a conclusion. "I'll keep your secret 'cause we're buddies now, okay?" "Yeah, we're buddies," Nate agreed. "Let's get you home."
Cole and peter whet to the pond and soaked. They had soaked so many times that that they just jumped in the pond with a splash. As they carried the ancestor rock up the hill they paused in their tracks. Less than 6 feet away was the spirit bear. But something was different about the bear, it had open wounds and blood on its white fur. Peter and Cole just stood there in that same position with the big ancestor rock behind them. The Spirit bear was so still that it amazed them so much that it scared them. At once they inched backwards down that hill.
The big tree loomed bigger and closer, and as they bore down on it he thought: ‘It’s waiting for us, it seems to know.’ But suddenly his wife’s face, with its monstrous lineaments, thrust itself between him and his goal, and he made an instinctive movement to brush it aside. The sled swerved in response, but he righted it again and drove down on the black projecting mass. There was a last instant when the air shot past him like millions of fiery wires, and then elm…’Oh, Matt, I thought we’d fetched it,’ he moaned; and far off, up the hill, he heard the sorrel whinny and thought: ‘I ought to be getting him his feed… (Wharton,
We hit the edge of the tree line, prickers pulling and catching on our snow pants. Suddenly, we hit. I could feel myself fly over Caytie’s head, smashing into a tree a few feet away. The wind knocked violently out of my lungs, leaving me gasping for air. I could hear the snowmobile sputter to a stop, my foot somehow underneath the track. I saw Caytie in the snow and to my relief she got up, seemingly unscathed by the accident. That’s when Maddie came barreling down the hill towards the tree line. Maddie yelled, more terrified than either of us. She helped to pull the snowmobile off my foot and me back on my
... to be inside this precarious place, I was careful with every movement. As we both lay in our bags, the cave's darkness soon soothed our eyes and sleep came to our tired bodies. Striking camp early in the morning we traversed over the white, moon lit landscape. We arrived at the car for a late lunch, which ended our camping trip.
I didn’t know what was happening, and I’m sure I didn’t want to find out. I started to head back to my tree when I heard a screech.
He went on down the hill, toward the dark woods within which the liquid silver voices of the birds called unceasing - the rapid and urgent beating of the urgent and quiring heart of the late spring night. He did not look
I walk along the narrow logging road, scuffing my feet in the four inch dust. I am delighted to see my dad's big, green skidder, a machine used to drag logs from the woods to the road, up ahead, hopping over stump after stump. I scan the small, freshly-cut patch of aspen trees, lying in the luscious bed of fallen leaves. In his skidder, my dad carefully backs up to the butts of the trees and grabs them up in one skillful sweep of the giant grapple. The huge machine gently speeds to a constant yet jolting pace, dragging the neat bundle of trees behind it. I smile as I watch the tiny green leaves bounce every which way in conjunction with one another. Prancing anxiously behind the dancing leaves are three rather massive elk, fighting to get one more mouthful of the leaves, a rare delicacy for them. I watch for a moment and continue on my way.
“Ya, but papa can I first tell you what I have memorized so far?” he
To his left he heard the faint echoes of the tribe’s ululation and wrath filled chants;
When it was time to go, he took only a penknife, a ball of cord, some flint and steel, forty dollars, and an ax. The flint and steel were for starting fires. He hitched a ride from a trucker to the town; Delhi, nearest the old family farm. He set out in May, set up a camp in a terrible storm, couldn’t get his fire going was tired, and hungry and realized in order to survive he would have to keep his wits about him.
...the wood for movement, looking for the slightest movement that will indicate the presence of some animal, maybe a deer walking through the woods feeding, or maybe a squirrel on its never-ending hunt for food. At 8:45 I get up and walk to my brother; the cold weather has found its way into my body through my many layers of clothes. I walk ever so silently hoping to find a deer over the hill, or in some alders eating. I see nothing but when I get to my brother he tells me I pushed five deer right past him.
Her spry, Timberland-clad foot planted itself upon a jagged boulder, motionless, until her calf muscles tightened and catapulted her small frame into the next stride. Then Sara's dance continued, her feet playing effortlessly with the difficult terrain. As her foot lifted from the ground, compressed mint-colored lichen would spring back into position, only to be crushed by my immense boot, struggling to step where hers had been. My eyes fixated on the forest floor, as fallen trees, swollen roots, and unsteady rocks posed constant threats for my exhausted body. Without glancing up I knew what was ahead: the same dense, impenetrable green that had surrounded us for hours. My throat prickled with unfathomable thirst, as my long-empty Nalgene bottle slapped mockingly at my side. Gnarled branches snared at my clothes and tore at my hair, and I blindly hurled myself after Sara. The portage had become a battle, and the ominously darkening sky raised the potential for casualties. Gritting my teeth with gumption, I refused to stop; I would march on until I could no longer stand.
As I began to walk this trail, I began to recollect the days of when I was a kid playing in the woods, the birds chirping and the squirrels running free. The trees interlocking each other as if I am walking through a tunnel with the smell of fresh pine and a hint of oak all around me; a hint of sunshine every now and then is gleaming down on the beat path. This path is not like your ordinary path, it has been used quite some time, as if hundreds of soldiers have marched this very path.
I needed a weekend away from the all too humdrum existence of day-to-day living. I decided that a good diversion might be to hike the Appalachian Trail for a weekend. After class on Friday, I ran to my car so that I could begin this wonderful divergence from daily life. The parking lot at Carver’s Gap, my destination, finally came into view as I drove up US 19E. Across the road, a short wooden fence separated me from my wonderful weekend of adventure. From the second I reached the parking lot, I realized that this hike, a great way to escape from reality for a weekend, awaited me upon the trail I saw dwindling in the distance.
As the bushes and brush grew more solid I began to ponder. Will I make it through this forest tonight or will I be taken in by the thick of the mystery? Sounds from sluggish foot steps caused a vibration around me that lead me to stop in my place and listen closely. Could this forest be haunted or was I just over exaggerating? I started to get very nervous by this time. “It will be just fine,” I told myself. I am just imagining things. I continued my journey through the forest but negative thoughts were running through my l...