Creative Writing: The Dead Don T Talk

Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.

Katy meets with Gilbert down at the courthouse and sign documents with him and they hand them in to get stamped with photographers and their parents nearby. Their document is stamped with a void and a different document is put in an envelope and passed to Gilbert. He puts it in his pocket and tries to kiss Katy, but she quickly stepped away from him in fear.

As one older gentleman tells the history of the building and what the military did, he shared his stories with such passion and conviction. He knew that building like the back of his hand. He knew every fact about it. Yet, his lady friend (Bethany) had focused much more on the spookiness of the building. It wasn't the walking around the building, it wasn't even the broken glass or vandalized walls that makes you think twice about entering. It’s the pure feeling of eeriness, you can just feel that you are not alone. You walk in and your skin simply crawls. Bethany sat and shared stories of loud thumps she hears time to time in the night to the phantom noises throughout the town that you simply can’t ignore. She says: “one of the ghosts who occupies the Buckner Building is apparently fond of whistling, and another has a particularly heavy step”. Her gentleman friend just giggled and went back to reading the newspaper. Bethany stated "there are memories she won't even share simply because they're too scary”. As Bethany poured me another cup of coffee she whispered “mostly, though, all the ghosts are

Then some of people noticed a new guest, dress as a clothes of the Red Death. Everyone was freaking out because of him. When Prince Prospero saw this guy, he became angry and asked courtiers to seize him and unmask him. But no one have the courage to do it, including Prospero himself. The Red Death walked through the rooms, heading toward the black room. Prospero chased him with taking his dagger. Prospero reached the edge of the dark room, the Red Death suddenly turned to face him, and Prospero fell on the ground and dead. "Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revelers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony

For several days in succession fragments of a defeated army had passed through the town. They were mere disorganized bands, not disciplined forces. The men wore long, dirty beards and tattered uniforms; they advanced in listless fashion, without a flag, without a leader. All seemed exhausted, worn out, incapable of thought or resolve, marching onward merely by force of habit, and dropping to the ground with fatigue the moment they halted. One saw, in particular, many enlisted men, peaceful citizens, men who lived quietly on their income, bending beneath the weight of their rifles; and little active volunteers, easily frightened but full of enthusiasm, as eager to attack as they were ready to take to flight; and amid these, a sprinkling of red-breeched soldiers, the pitiful remnant of a division cut down in a great battle; somber artillerymen, side by side with nondescript foot-soldiers; and, here and there, the gleaming helmet of a heavy-footed dragoon who had difficulty in keeping up with the quicker pace of the soldiers of the line. Legions of irregulars with high-sounding names "Avengers of Defeat," "Citizens of the Tomb," "Brethren in Death"--passed in their turn, looking like banditti.

“I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say about the way you treat me, now go home and look after your daughter, she needs you,” Silvia demanded, shrugging Walker’s arm off of her body.

“Oh, well alright then. I wish you luck on finding the killer.” said Jeffery, quickly closing the door behind us.

Ghost stories are thrilling and suspenseful tales chocked full of fright and elements of the supernatural that science has trouble explaining. Though some stories contain frightening events that cause nightmares, others rely on their eeriness and the fantastical aspect of the belief of the afterlife and beyond. In this particular novella, no jump scares or moments of horrific nature are conveyed in the text. Instead it is packed with an air of unknown that is still left intact as the pages of the story come to a close. Speculation surrounding the actuality of the assumed ghosts is left to the minds of the reader and is formed on the compelling evidence that is presented throughout the story and it’s plot. In Henry James’s Turn of the Screw,

Meanwhile, at John’s house, Mrs. Merly pulled into the driveway. She got out of car, opened the door, and let out a shriek as she entered the house. The walls were splattered with blood and all the picture frames were torn down. She immediately ran to the phone and dialed 911, but the telephone wires were chewed up. She ran to the door, but it slammed shut in front of her. She stood there for a second horrified about the immense danger she was

By nightfall they had finished all of the burials. It was depressing to see how many people were dead, even more so knowing that wasn’t the majority of them. Several times throughout the day new carcasses were dumped carelessly on the dwindling pile, just adding another hole to dig.

As Halloween recently passed, Colin Dickey posed questions to his audience of “do we still need ghosts?” and if so, why do ghost stories exist today and why do we need them? Though the author’s interest in ghost hunting, he responds to the questions in a rather biased way by including personal experiences, thoughts, and opinions. But this organization of the article aids Dickey to connect and relate with the audience who also share similar interests of ghosts.

Cecilia helped the man up. His blond hair was covered with bits of blood and dirt and his clothes were tattered and torn to shreds. He probably never got a proper funeral, Cecilia inferred as she analyzed his

Troy glanced back at the report in his hand. “Found on the second story landing with his face shot off which was why he couldn’t be identified. Died instantly.”

The house belonged to a 62 year-old named Susan Whittaker. Everyone knew her and she was kind to all of the kids in the neighborhood. She handed out candy every year besides tonight. Nothing had seen wrong with her but when all of the kids started to come out to trick-or-treat all of her lights went out. Minutes later the house was engulfed in flames, you never would have believed that such a sweet old lady really would have gone and done such a thing.”

“A person who couldn’t escape. Obviously.” said the rest of the expedition crew in enthusiasm. We kept digging but we kept finding nothing.