I hear a harsh bang against something and turn my head to face the dark coloured oak door. “Harold can you please! For fuck sake, take him with you.” I hear my mother scream at my father, and understand completely that she’s talking about me and kick my shoes on while mumbling quiet cuss words. I’ve never heard her so pissed at having to keep me; she’s not even putting up a fight for him. “I don’t want him anymore than you do Karen!” I hear my father’s last words as he slams the front door, I walk over to the chalky white window and pull back the curtain to watch him scurry down the path and into a cab.
She feels him on her cheeks. Now, he starts rubbing his hands on her back when suddenly the door bell rings. I was saved perhaps from a more unfortunate pain, she thought. Should I be happy for that, or lament that he was my uncle, she shouted to herself. She fell on the dirty wet floor of the water closet and cried for hours.
Out of the blue, a life giving gasp for air comes from the corpse. The shape of a human backside rose fr... ... middle of paper ... ... foot and tosses him across the room, while recovering from the unexpected assault Gregor’s father cries out, “Talk to me!” Gregor is reluctant to say a word. Gregor’s father throws him into the living room, Gregor takes refuge under the couch, his father takes hold of the broom and begins to mercilessly jab it under the sofa, “get out!” he shouts. Mrs. Samsa Gregor’s mother suddenly arrives from work, she sobs at the extraordinary sight. She attempts to get a hold of her husband but his stubbornness and fury impedes him from grasping on to his rationality.
After working a late day, Kazumi comes home to find his wife lying on a bed upstairs with her mouth open; she is in shock. He panics and attempts to call an ambulance, but before he has a chance, he sees the little boy that Rika let out of the closet, whose name we learn is Toshio. Kazumi cowers against a wall until a presences seems to take ... ... middle of paper ... ...Woman hold information which makes the films even more menacing. Upon researching the topic of Japanese horror films, it is clear that most draw their inspiration from urban legends. Additionally, these legends regularly focus on females as the dominate character for the antagonist.
Chapter Three: Auditory Hallucinations Are Just Part of Grief Celeste gave a loud groan of annoyance when she heard her phone alarm going off at six a.m. sharp. “Shut the fuck up. I promise one day I’ll just take a hammer to you,” she muttered softly, her voice muffled due to the fact that she laid face down. She blindly reached for her phone with her right hand as she felt along the surface of the nightstand beside her to turn it off. Its shrill tone was grating on her eardrums and she already felt a large headache coming.
A Day in the Life of- Personal Narrative Being shaken awake by my mum I turn over annoyed, thrown my pillow over my head and groan in miserable agony at the thought of having another early morning. That dreaded feeling, the kind that makes you feel like your heart’s in the pit of your stomach, overcomes me as I know that at any moment my mum is going to put on the light, open the curtains and threaten me with a jug of cold water or being dragged by my feet out of bed, and promptly down the very bumpy staircase. I begrudgingly pull myself off the bed and half walk, half fall into my bathroom. Even with all my misery it gets ten times worse with the dread of school. I still do not understand the concept of going to school early, everyone is completely out of it anyway.
The coldness pierces my throat and makes it difficult to swallow my saliva. I stand up from my bed with my bones aching from within me and make my way to the kitchen to get glass of water to clear my dilapidated gullet. As I sneak towards the kitchen, the floorboards beneath my feet creak louder than a thousand smashing glasses. I shudder as the cold seems to get worse, or maybe it 's the fact that I may wake up my parents – something that I can hope to avoid at all costs. I was taken away from my family two years ago and ‘adopted’ into a white family.
As Mrs Sykes walked back to her own house, once again the wooden door slammed shut. “Who does she think she is? Always peeping into other people’s privacy,” asked Mrs Fletcher. Just when it seemed as if Mrs Fletcher had controlled her anger and forgotten about Fletcher there was the sound of glass breaking. Mrs Fletcher turned around to see her son who had just woke up from his sleep crying very innocently over broken glass.
Joe had come over that night and had been acting silly. He was very upset when he had to go home. “Look, it can’t hurt to check. Besides, what if he’s missing?” Mindy asked. Mindy and Mandy argued all the way up the long and rickety staircase expecting Max to be silently sleeping in his snug small room.
Today the tender goodbyes had been replaced by pandemonium. Awoken by the commotion from underneath their shared bedroom, the sisters crept towards the top of the stairs in which they had paced to bed more nights then they could count. Crouching with their heads peeping though the banister they observed their mother chasing their father around the house, her raised voice switching from pleading cries to enraged lectures. As they watched, Mary reached towards her older sister’s hand for reassurance only for it to be ignored, a common occurrence in her life. Mary’s eyes watered as she abandoned her older sister on the stairs and started walking back towards her bedroom.