English Horror Story - Creative Writing Coursework I was driving for about three hours when I realised I had taken the wrong turning and was hopelessly lost. I
English Horror Story - Creative Writing Coursework I was driving for about three hours when I realised I had taken the wrong turning and was hopelessly lost. I pulled over to the side and found my mobile phone in order to phone for help. Surprisingly, the battery had run completely low and I began to feel a sense of panic as it was rapidly becoming darker. In the distance, I saw the outline of a house and I thought that I could detect smoke coming out of the chimney. I decided that I had no option but to make my way to the house and ask for directions and for the use of the telephone as my family would be getting worried about me. I drove to the house which was completely isolated and as I pulled up outside, my car engine abruptly cut out. In the car seat, I sat and pondered what to do. I looked up at the house and noticed that the house almost appeared to be normal however the lack of light made the house seem somewhat ghostly and dooming. The house also seemed to be illuminated around its edges, giving it an eerie and unnatural glow. However, I had no choice but to approach the house, because my other option was to stay in my car, where it was becoming increasing cold as I could feel the cold biting through my coat. Trembling, I swung open the car door and stepped out of the car. Surprisingly, the ground was muddy and wet, but I could not recall any rain during my
The Lottery: Free choice, self knowledge and Guilt
FINDING YOURSELF THROUGH THE PAIN Based on the Novel: The Lottery By: Beth Goobie Student: Monique Roopanram Teacher: Ms. Kirshenblat Course: ENG1D5-04 Date: Friday, June 8, 2007 There are many instances in our lives which prompt us to ask ourselves the questions: "Who am I?", "What am I doing here?", "Does anyone know I exist?", "Does anybody care about me?", "Why am I doing this?", and "What was I thinking?". Life is full of opportunities to achieve excellence or failure. Some of us choose excellence, some choose failure, and some are not given a choice. In the novel The Lottery, Sal Hanson is chosen as the year's lottery winner at her school Saskatoon Collegiate (S.C.). This role enables the Shadow Council to take advantage of her by making her do their "dirty work". Not only is the role of the lottery winner demeaning, but it also takes Sal on a journey where she learns free choice, self-knowledge, and guilt. Having free choice is essential for individuals in order to define what kind of person they are, and who they aspire to be. After Sal Hanson is chosen as the lottery winner, the luxury of free choice is taken from her. The Shadow Council has control over Sal's choices that, now, consist of following Shadow Council's orders to a tee or suffering the consequence of receiving demerits. "She felt the leash around her throat, tightening like the silence
How does Shakespeare show the changing relationship between Juliet and her parents in Act 3 Scene 5?
How does Shakespeare show the changing relationship between Juliet and her parents in Act 3 Scene 5? At the beginning of Act 3 Scene 5, we know very little regarding the relationship between Juliet and her parents because there is very little contact between the two parties so far in the play. It seems that Shakespeare wants to emphasise this lack of contact, he wants the audience to understand that Juliet is quite distant from her parents. In the play leading up to this scene, Juliet has only had a brief conversation with her mother and hasn't even talked to her father. These family conversations seem to be a rarity in the play. In Act 3 Scene 1, when Juliet talks to her mother, the relationship comes across as a formal one, not necessarily a loving one: Madam I am here. What is your will? Automatically, it can be observed that the manner of speaking is how a servant may greet his master. It certainly shows obedience and respect, but in a true parental relationship, love always forms the foundations. However, at the time this sort of behaviour would be no surprise, the relationships were indeed very restricted. The parents played little part in raising their kids; the child's care was the role of a nanny or nurse (even breast feeding was done by the nanny). Thus, the obvious bond of love that builds and strengthens through childhood between the parents and Juliet is
Morning of the execution. Within a few hours, her brother would be executed for something he hadnt even done. The injustice of it all! Her eyes prickled and fire burned inside her.
The Moring of the Execution Iris stared in silence at the glowing galaxy of stars she'd got her father to stick on her ceiling when she was a child. One, two, three. The little one was her youngest brother, Dennis. The big one was her. And the meduim-sized one was... She squirmed uncomfortably in her bumpy bed, sick with sorrow. Everything reminded her of him. Everything. Although her father had stopped all the clocks apart from his watch the previous night, the clock inside her head reminded her of what little time her brother Derek had left. Tick tock, tick tock. Within a few hours, her brother would be executed for something he hadn't even done. The injustice of it all! Her eyes prickled and fire burned inside her. The flames leapt higher and higher, louder and louder until she couldn't hear herself think. As quick as a wink, it was gone. A cool breeze swept over her and cooled her down. What was the point in getting angry? Nothing could be done about it. Not one thing. The darkness whispered the horrible feelings she hated to admit: defeat, disappointment and discouragement. Iris turned over in her bed. She hoped that sleep would welcome her into its arms. No such luck. In her head, she saw various images. Images of her nine-year-old brother Derek sitting in a lonely cell, trapped inside his nineteen-year-old body. Images of his scared, petrified
Creative Writing - Gothic Horror
Gothic Horror. I walked cautiously up towards the grand old house, where I read the name aloud 'Hollow Manor.' It had the look of a gothic church with the arched stained glass windows. The doors and windows reminded me of the ancient gothic houses that were so popular in London at the moment. I breathed in deeply smelling wet oak wood reminding me of winter fires and roasting chestnuts. The area was in an old abandoned town by the forest and the old lake, as I went into the house the door creaked open suddenly as if swept by some unseen shadow of a figure. As I ascended through the main archway into the main house, I was me by the sweet smell of fresh baking but, at the same time something deeper like rotting flesh was hidden under the pleasant aroma as if the house itself was human. I soon forgot the smells of the house, when I saw the three gigantic chandeliers and the vast amount of doors all facing into the main hall all made out of willow wood, of which I was fond. As I walked up the stairs they started to creak as if the life was being pulled out of them. There were about a hundred old photographs and ancient portraits hanging on the dully coloured walls, clearly someone with very little imagination decorated this house. As I lit the chandeliers the whole room gleamed with life and I saw that the ceiling was of marble with strange but wonderful pictures and patters
Character Studies in the Ruby in the Smoke
In the novel Ruby in the Smoke, Phillip Pullman has created sleazy, nasty villains and wholesome, trustworthy, kind-hearted heroes and heroines. This character study looks at the behaviour of these important heroes and heroines in vital events in the novel. It also includes details about their appearance, personality and lifestyles. . Sally Lockhart Set in 1872, the Ruby in the Smoke involves sixteen year old Sally Lockhart. Sally is uncommonly pretty at the time; the quotation at the start of Chapter 1 shows us this: 'She was slender and pale, and dressed in mourning, with a black bonnet under which she tucked in a straying twist of blonde hair that the wind had teased loose. She had unusually dark brown eyes for one so fair.' Sally Lockhart is a serious middle-class orphan whose late 'father' taught her a variety of useful things; accounting, Hindustani, marksmanship, finance and shooting: 'As a result, her knowledge of English literature, French, History, Art and Music was non-existent.' Sally's lack of insight in these quarters caused trouble with her guardian Mrs Rees and so her stay there ended. Sally Lockhart shows sensitivity throughout the novel: 'What are you scowling for?' he said at one point ... 'I wasn't scowling,' she said, sounding petulant and childish' Sally's sensitiveness also links in with her willingness to let Frederick Garland take
English Short Story Coursework
Year 10 GCSE course work Short story Lance eagerly watched the balcony like a hawk which had caught sight of its prey, he was sitting beside the fire place with a rifle clutched firmly in his hands, and he knew they were coming. On the outside he looked calm however on the inside was a different story, his heart was racing and his lungs were suffocating, he knew his life was drawing to an end. Lance sat motionless, not one muscle in his body moved and it appeared as though he had already been killed. Although his expression remained very simple, his brain on the contrary was as jumbled as a jigsaw: he was wracking every nerve and cell deviating plans and escape manoeuvres that might hopefully secure his life but they were nothing more than just theories. Lance remained still keeping his movements to a minimum, the fire place began to crackle and feint sparks appeared as the wood began to singe, he pondered deep into his thoughts almost unaware of his surroundings, so it would appear. A chandelier hung above his head, it shimmered vibrantly in the fire light and it almost created a peaceful atmosphere but Lance knew carnage was just around the corner...possibly closer. Lance had remained in the same position for hours on end, he was sat upon a chair and much like the rest of his furniture it was priceless. The chair had a soft velvet texture, had been embroidered with
Original Writing, Tonight
Tonight we're not seeking applause. Tonight we're not grabbing fame. Tonight we're not here to entertain you. Tonight we're not something old; yet, tonight we're not something new. Tonight we're not selling out. Tonight you will change. Tonight, we are the entertainers. The advert is quite enticing you know. They seem like they might be worth a visit, it was only down the high street, although I've never heard of the venue it mentions ("The acid"), and where it's situated seems a little obscure. A lot London venues hide fantastic new talents, however, magical mushrooms among the plethora of thorns and pricks that come out of most London bars and bands. The leaflet was bursting with colours, perhaps signifying something about the music? Perhaps it was to make the band seem new and edgy? And that description, well, it set my imagination on fire when I read it. So eloquently worded, such suspense dripped off of those letters. Of course, it could just be sentimental bullshit. I suppose, given that I'm an agent finding 'young bands bursting with original new talent' (as is inscribed on my own advertisement) is my job. You know? I'm feeling pretty lonely, bored and tired at the moment, I think I'll go. I need a drink and I assume there will be some there, besides I feel like trying something new anyway, let's hope it'll be a new experience. I roughly fold the paper into half,
Short Story - Desert . We are announcing our lucky winner for the free all-exclusive trip to Ethiopia
One sunny July, Ariffe Munier rolls down the window, wind breezing through his shirt, turns on the radio while driving in his mini-van to work. He was not looking forward to work. He hated his every day routine, waking up, dropping the kids to school and go to his twelve-hour shift at work. All Ariffe could think of was retirement but he was a long way from there. As he turns on radio he hears, “GOOD MORNING AMERICA, what a beautiful day it is, now we are announcing our lucky winner for the free all-exclusive trip to Ethiopia for a whole weekend at the five-star suite by the beach.” Ariffe signed his name up to win but he had no doubt of winning feeling hopeless. “The lucky winner is Ariffe Munier from Mississauga, Ontario and Paul Langan from Montreal, Quebec.” Ariffe stopped the car immediately realizing he reached his workplace, hopped out of the car jumping up and down like he scored a goal in a soccer world cup match. One hour later, the station called his cell phone asking for his information and who he wanted to bring with him. Ariffe was limited to only bringing two people alongside him. Ariffe wanted to bring his wife but she was two months pregnant with two other kids. Ariffe told the station,” This is tough but I would to bring my best friends with me to this trip, John Morgan and Philip Langan.”Ariffe was filled with excitement but felt guilty to
Creative Writing - As the prison doors slammed shut the horrific smell of unwashed bodies came over me, almost making me choke in disgust.
Creative Writing As the prison doors slammed shut the horrific smell of unwashed bodies came over me, almost making me choke in disgust. I was being cut off from the beautiful fresh air that I was born to live in. It was rather humid and I was finding it increasingly difficult to suck the oxygen into my body. The walls, the ceiling and the floor were all the same dull colour. My room was extremely dark; there were no windows, just a hole in the wall with black steel bars crossing it which let in absolutely no light. I had a table and a chair made up of compressed cardboard which was attached to the floor with long bent rusted nails. I could only take two large strides before I reached the other side of this foul-smelling cage. I could not even stand on my tiptoes or else my head would hit a centimetre of filth on the ceiling above. My cell stank, my clothes stank, and the whole place stank. My clothes would only get washed once a month and I had a blanket on my bed that had not been washed since the day I got here which was three, long, boring months ago. I had not washed for six whole days and was in a desperate need to feel cool fresh water against my body. There was a horrible small tin pot in the corner that I used as a toilet that would get emptied once a day, if I was lucky. I had a jug of water that was barely enough to quench my thirst for the whole twenty-four
