Thursday, July 18, 2019
Creative Story: The Dark House :: essays research papers
Creative Story: The Dark House by Tom-Inge Earlier today, John and I were taking a walk in the outskirts of the town, when we saw an old house on top of a hill. I wanted to take a closer look at it, but John looked a little spooked, and mumbled something about not wanting to go there. I convinced him that there was nothing to be afraid of, it's just an old house which haven't been occupied for a while, though I wasn't sure whether someone really was living there. We walked up the driveway, up to the house. It was huge. The place looked deserted, the grass wasn't mowed for ages, and everything was a mess. John chew nails like crazy, but I still wanted to check this place out. The door was made of wood, and looked like it could fall apart any minute. I tried to turn the door knob, but it fell off as soon as I touched it. The knob rolled down the steps and kept on rolling down the driveway, and stopped by the fence. That didn't make John feel any better at all. He looked like he had seen a ghost. I took a deep breath, and pushed the door. It wouldn't budge an inch. à « Help me outà », I said, but John kept chewing his nails. God knows why, there was nothing to be scared of. Or was it? I took a step backwards, and then kicked the door. It slowly slid open, and I went inside. à «Wow! What a huge mansion we've got here!à » John took a peek into the house, but didn't dare go inside. There was a huge hall in the middle of the house, with staircases to my left and right. I went right ahead, towards a glass door in front of me. It wasn't locked, so I carefully turned the knob, and the door opened. Suddenly I felt someone touch my shoulder. I turned around immediately to see, but there was nobody there. à «Probably just my imaginationà », I said to myself, and went on into the room. It was a lounge, with some impressive furniture, antiques and other objects. It was a lot to look at, and I yelled for John. He didn't reply, so I went to check on him. All I found outside the house was a shoe, and his necklace. I couldn't quite understand what was going on. If he'd run away, at least he'd taken his belongings with him. The door slammed shut behind me, and my heart stopped for a second or two. Creative Story: The Dark House :: essays research papers Creative Story: The Dark House by Tom-Inge Earlier today, John and I were taking a walk in the outskirts of the town, when we saw an old house on top of a hill. I wanted to take a closer look at it, but John looked a little spooked, and mumbled something about not wanting to go there. I convinced him that there was nothing to be afraid of, it's just an old house which haven't been occupied for a while, though I wasn't sure whether someone really was living there. We walked up the driveway, up to the house. It was huge. The place looked deserted, the grass wasn't mowed for ages, and everything was a mess. John chew nails like crazy, but I still wanted to check this place out. The door was made of wood, and looked like it could fall apart any minute. I tried to turn the door knob, but it fell off as soon as I touched it. The knob rolled down the steps and kept on rolling down the driveway, and stopped by the fence. That didn't make John feel any better at all. He looked like he had seen a ghost. I took a deep breath, and pushed the door. It wouldn't budge an inch. à « Help me outà », I said, but John kept chewing his nails. God knows why, there was nothing to be scared of. Or was it? I took a step backwards, and then kicked the door. It slowly slid open, and I went inside. à «Wow! What a huge mansion we've got here!à » John took a peek into the house, but didn't dare go inside. There was a huge hall in the middle of the house, with staircases to my left and right. I went right ahead, towards a glass door in front of me. It wasn't locked, so I carefully turned the knob, and the door opened. Suddenly I felt someone touch my shoulder. I turned around immediately to see, but there was nobody there. à «Probably just my imaginationà », I said to myself, and went on into the room. It was a lounge, with some impressive furniture, antiques and other objects. It was a lot to look at, and I yelled for John. He didn't reply, so I went to check on him. All I found outside the house was a shoe, and his necklace. I couldn't quite understand what was going on. If he'd run away, at least he'd taken his belongings with him. The door slammed shut behind me, and my heart stopped for a second or two.
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