De-Fense: A Short Story

Once one got nearer, the archway opened up until one could see the whole front of the house in a somehow eerie way. Around the windows grew ivy and creepers, twisting their way up to the roof in a claw like fashion. The windows

Seeing as there was nowhere else to go, you shuffled over to the opening and frowned. It was dark and you could just barely make out a doorway to what was most likely another room. What really threw you off guard was how nicely the doorway was carved. An intricate pattern wove itself around the exit. Did that mean… someone else was here? At the thought of possibly being able to get out of here with the help of another person made you scurry over to the patterned doorway with little hesitation. The sleeves of your two-sizes-too-big sweater fell down to wrap loosely around your forearms when you reach over and grabbed the wall to peak around into the next area.

Clarisse was forgotten, she wasn’t remembered. She was gone. Simply gone. Due to the rumor Mildred spread around town, many believed Clarisse had unfortunately died in a car accident. Others created their own fictional story of Clarisse’s mysterious disappearance. Those who ignored her had no idea that she was gone, or that she even existed in the first place. However, few knew the real story behind Clarisse and what really happened after her so called “car accident”.

The second floor consisted of a central hall at the top of the steps. Leading off this hall, to

He slowly got off the back of his horse and took a deep breath. This was something he has never seen before. The doorway seemed to have a slightly blue phosphorescent look swirled in a white color in the center with red flickers on the edges; the frame was decorated with twisting

In the fall, Grandma Lynn calls Jack and says she's moving in. That December, Mr. Harvey has been gone over a year, and nobody has been able to find him. Susie feels sorry for Len Fenerman because he didn't solve the crime in time or get the lady. (Apparently, when Abigail left for California, she cut all ties to Len.) Len feels extremely guilty for not solving Susie's case.

He takes a few steps through the doors and enters a foyer, walking through he notices how high the ceilings are... Cathedrals come to mind... His eyes wanders

She walked down the darkened corridor, her heels clicking against the smooth marble. Shadows danced across the tall walls, the orange flames from the iron metal torches formed various shapes across

Where the colorless tiles ended, a dark carpeting started. He looked further right, to the wall beyond the flooring, seeing the silhouettes of several stacks of boxes and metal racks used to hold clothing. From there, he looked ahead the thirty-foot space to the far wall, the view showing him empty floor space from where he stood, its emptiness ending at the building’s right wall.

He was now left alone in a familiar territory. All around the house, white sheets covered many artifacts that once entertained an audience. The house had a slight smoky odour, which tickled his nose. Although he tried to stay quiet, each step he took the floor creaked in response, probably due to the renovations the house was under.

About a mile North of the town of DeMotte, there’s a small, serene lake, that is surrounded by an overgrown forest. Meanwhile the water was cold, due to springs being filtered into the lake, causing a slight current.While the surrounding forest was filled with small, mainly harmless animals and large, towering trees. A few feet from the lake, there’s an old, abandoned cabin, that was only one story and had four small, rectangular windows covered in dust. The cabin was missing the door and a few side panelings, while many vines are growing up the outside walls of the cabin.

The whole interior of a long archway through which we reached it, were carefully sheathed with copper. The door, of massive iron, had been, also, similarly protected. Its immense weight caused an unusually sharp grating sound as it moved upon its hinges" (Poe, 1353).

The stage is swept. The lights are focused, and the mic is in your hand. The bass of the song you and your best friend made together is blasting in your ear, going straight to your head. suddenly your brain stops thinking; All that’s there is you and the crowd. This is Freesole Chicago at it’s finest form.

There he was; just a little ways up ahead. Hanging around just outside little ol' Devlon's depot straight under the Dark of night like a good little buck. Hell from down the street right up until the headlights of my truck were straight in his face, and beaming the shadow of his tiny little body right up Devlon's wall. He. Stayed. Right where he fucking was and gave both me and my fucking truck the cold stare. Cos' he fucking hated my guts and even from way down the fucking road; he knew it was me.

On a damp and slightly foggy evening on the coast of South Hampton, midsouth in England, a man the name of Andrew Jackson Walks onto the port of where a major role in his life is about to be fulfilled. Andrew had always seen things in his dreams but this was surreal to him. He had previously bought a ticket onto a so-called “unsinkable ship” and he was eager to see why his dream had lead him here. His dreams were always quite colorful and imaginative, but they always seemed so farfetched yet surreal. A place that he could almost imagine he was standing in the very place he was now, yet this time it only seemed like a dream, it’s a dream he has had for a long time. Going out to sea, eating divine food prepared by talented chefs, and maybe meeting a new friend or two. He thought of all this just standing there, at this marvelous