“Caleb, how many times do I have to say it. I. AM. READY.” “We will talk about it later. We have to get to the house,” Caleb says, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, I guess.” I guess I understand why he is so worried. When I was 8 years old, my best friend was murdered right in front of me. I heard the gun go off, I saw the bullet enter her body. She died in my arms while the Paramedics were speeding down the street. “Tina, come on! TINA!” I remember screaming over and over at the top of my lungs. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay Ash. I’ll be okay,” were her last words. And then she died. The murderer was not caught for a whole two weeks. When the killer was put on trial, he admitted that he was not trying to …show more content…
I’ve always admired his dazzling emerald eyes, and how he can tell a story with them. It makes it painfully easy to tell when he’s worried. He is. He shifts in his seat, and glances over at me uncomfortably. He sees me and holds my gaze. I finally look away, knowing how conflicted he is feeling. I know because I feel the exact same way. Tina’s death affected me in ways it shouldn’t have. Everytime I see my reflection, I want to scream. Why her? Why couldn’t Theodore Carson have aimed correctly and shot me instead? But of course, I know what people would tell me. God wanted you to live., they would say, Fate chose you. Fate didn’t choose me, God didn’t choose me though, I was just standing on the wrong side of Tina that day. I should have been on the left, I was always on the left. That one day I decided to stand to the right of my best friend, and that decision had dire consequences. I lost my best friend, all because of the side I was standing on. Even she questioned why I wasn’t on the left, I was always on the left. I prided myself on always being on the left. But I wasn’t on the freaking left, because I was seeking a new perspective. I think. I was 8, maybe I just mixed up my right and left that day. We may never
His opposer stands triumphantly as he thought to have succeeded in his mission. “How ill mannered is he?” the sniper murmured to himself with a devious smile. Standing tall in all black; blazer, bow tie, socks, Balmoral shoes, with the button up also to be corresponding. He appears seemingly endless like a black shadowed character made up to startle young children. The opposing sniper moves as if he is the actual Slender Man. As he stands as a vacuous man, I conjure my scheme to vanish him.
The sentencing of underage criminals has remained a logistical and moral issue in the world for a very long time. The issue is brought to our perspective in the documentary Making a Murderer and the audio podcast Serial. When trying to overcome this issue, we ask ourselves, “When should juveniles receive life sentences?” or “Should young inmates be housed with adults?” or “Was the Supreme Court right to make it illegal to sentence a minor to death?”. There are multiple answers to these questions, and it’s necessary to either take a moral or logical approach to the problem.
Ever wonder what is going on in the mind of a murderer? One piece of literature that centers around murderers is And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie. The story takes place in the 1930’s on Soldier Island. Ten strangers trapped on the island are one by one killed off in accordance with the poem Ten Little Soldiers. The Tell-Tale Heart, Cask of Amontillado, and Murderers are all literary works that give insight into the mind of a murderer like Christie’s classic book.
THE PAST :.. In days gone by, the four species managed to live in perfect harmony. Witches, werewolves and vampires lived in secret, blending in with the humans on a daily basis - and the humans remained completely in the dark about their existence. It was after thousands of years of living this way, whilst everything was completely normal, that a small group of vampires decided that they’d had enough. They spent months devising plans.
I looked up at Gabriel from the grass. I never actually got to inspect the full extent of his features. His dark brown hair was tussled and looked as if he had been running his fingers through it from stress. His green eyes resembled emeralds. He had a bit of muscle on him, but he wasn’t too broad shouldered. You could see a small rose tattoo on his upper bicep. He wore a dark green t-shirt and jeans. He was definitely handsome, and all his features complimented each other.
Trails of thick smoke danced in the air, twirling into all sorts of directions. Nothing but haze fogged up the brown tinted aviators dangling off Detective Killinger’s eyes. Out from his eternal slumber, Killinger awoke as the backend of a lawn chair tipped back ever so slightly. As he wrangled around on the warm red carpet, a cold metal vice clenched his wrist, preventing him from exiting the scene. Handcuffs. Of course, he fished around into the abyss of his pockets, only to come up with a handful of lint, an empty flask, a crumpled pack of Camel cigarettes, and the address of a motel. No badge. No gun.
“This your time first right? So far, so good...nice and calm, you’ll be alright, just stay calm.”
Victoria goes back downstairs and tells Cameron to call both of his parents here as she had solved the case and wanted to tell it in front of them. While Cameron is doing this Victoria calls Nick again and tells him that he is needed at 107 Pinewood Street, not telling him why other than the fact that it related to the murder case. She also calls a couple of police who were on the crime scene Once everyone had arrived at the Cordon’s House, with the Cordon’s being confused as to who Nick Nawn was. Victoria started from the beginning.
I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have done that! Why did I do that? Why just why? That’s all that kept going through Kara’s mind. When the first tears fell, she locked herself up in her room.
Valentina Kureyev wanted to spit. The police detective was furious and far beyond what might be termed disgusted. Pensively, she rubbed her hand along her jaw and frowned.
It was a dark and foggy night I can hear the wind howl and screams in the distance but I kept running it's not safe it never was safe. It was a foolish idea to try to convince them it was the end. I ran by the graveyard right next to my house picked up the pace I slammed open the door and made myself upstairs I locked the door behind me and close all the blinds I turned off all the lights and turn on a candle. I looked around the house looking for a weapon. I went to the kitchen get a knife until something stopped me at my tracks I heard voices outside my house and they kept getting louder indicating they were getting closer. “Those filthy beggars deserve to die” I heard a man cackle as more follow presuit “You should have seen the boy cry
Spotting him I walk towards the table embracing him in a hug before sitting on the chair empty for me. “How have things been for you after the divorce?” he asks breaking the silence. That’s not what I was looking for after I murdered my mum’s
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
My series of questions was interrupted as a devilishly handsome man, with brown hair and mesmerizing hazel eyes, emerged from the door of my room, with a mobile phone close to his ear, talk...
out of her head endlessly. It was a sight to see. Who would have ever