Descriptive Essay About The Poison Room

First came the pride, an overwhelming sense of achievement, an accomplishment due to great ambition, but slowly and enduringly surged a world of guilt and confusion, the conscience which I once thought diminished, began to grow, soon defeating the title and its rewards. Slowly the unforgotten memories from that merciless night overcame me and I succumbed to the incessant and horrific images, the bloody dagger, a lifeless corpse. I wash, I scrub, I tear at the flesh on my hands, trying desperately to cleanse myself of the blood. But the filthy witness remains, stained, never to be removed.

Caroline heart started to race. She might have been immortal, but was very jumpy and currently scared out of her damn mind.

Her lips formed strange and unusual sounds, her eyes closed softly and her cheeks paled. From her side belt she withdrew a small knife, a dagger. With a quick movement she cut her left hand with the dagger. As the drops of blood hit the cold marble floor the knife also clattered to the ground. The girl remained speaking her foreign tongue and let her life's blood run down her outstretched arm.

The theme of The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York is: there are many ethical, social, and medical issues surrounding advancements in science. The following quote supports this theme because it demonstrates to social issues in the New York political system. The coroners were hand chosen by a city’s mayor; typically the mayors chose a political friend or ally to occupy the coroner’s office, rather than a medically trained individual. Thanks to shady, ill-informed, untrained, and occasionally drunk coroners, murderers continually walked free. In the subsequent case, the Mors murder case, the coroner’s misinformation resulted in a lack of evidence

A trickle of fear had her lying motionless with her eyes closed, straining to hear the slightest noise. A deep sigh of regret and the pressure of a body by her side made her acutely aware that she wasn’t alone.

Slowly, I awoke to see looming trees all around me, bending over me, watching. Listening. They heard the screams, they heard my screams, I was still screaming. I clamped a trembling hand down over my mouth to only realize it was closed, my lips rolled in. And then thick as velvet. The blood pooled.

First came the pride, an overwhelming sense of achievement, an accomplishment due to great ambition, but slowly and enduringly surged a world of guilt and confusion, the conscience which I once thought diminished, began to grow, soon defeating the title and its rewards. Slowly the unforgotten memories from that merciless night overcame me and I succumbed to the incessant and horrific images, the bloody dagger, a lifeless corpse. I wash, I scrub, I tear at the flesh on my hands, trying desperately to cleanse myself of the blood. But the filthy witness remains, stained, never to be removed.

She felt the warm, sticky coalescence of blood on the back of her skull, still running in a thin trickle down the back of her neck, trailing down her spine and creating dark stripes on her skin.She was naked, her defenses and any protections stripped away, meant to deprive her of her dignity and pride.

‘A time comes in the life of the most wretched when they do realize their mistakes and tries penance in their own way. Once I been attacked by influenza and having a high temperature, the animal instincts of my step father forced himself on me, right before my mother. I pleaded with my folded hands to let me be spared, I requested my mother to help me in relieving from the predator as my condition doesn’t permit to be his partner. My mother asked my step father to free me, when the words of my mother didn’t move him, she brought out a sword and to intimidate him flashed in the air, but the tip of the sword cuts off the veins of his neck and he fell down on me, killing him instantly, the blood oozing out profusely, drenched me fully. Horror

Even though I was very weak, I could feel warmth through my arms that gave me strength. My grip was not painful but yet their eyes grew wide as their necks stiffened. I was replaying all of the moments that they had wanted to forget. Death, violence, childish innocence. All with my bare fingers. “Sylwia, leave.” I said softly. All of my energy is destroying itself in this moment as I continue to press my fingers. I can barely speak already. I tried to make her understand the severity of the situation. Her thoughts ran through my mind, all of them panicked. She ran to grab some of her things. Before both of our hearts could burst, she whispered, “I will see you in the next life, Leon.” How could she know? I tried opening my mouth to speak, but suddenly the muscles in my jaw clenched shut. All of the lights flickered in the apartment. I could not utter a single world as my head knocked back to reveal a new world of

I remember the day with clarity. Yet, I remember it with an ancient feel of age and a deep ache. I don't quite remember what she looked like in those last moments, but I do remember how her blood stained the earth a beautiful crimson.

Blood dripped from my knife as I grasped the leather wrapped handle, my hand seemingly frozen. I couldn't bring myself to move my arm or look away. "Did I do this? What have I done? Who am I?" Paralyzed as the crimson liquid built up at the tip of the bright blade, then fell, as if in slow motion. I was snapped from my trance as the glimmering droplet spattered on the dry, hard, dirt. "Who are you. The girl you used to be wouldn't be so heartless." Quickly I snatched up the hem of my tattered, brown cloak. Urgently wiping away the blood, as if that could wipe away the pain, the thoughts, the memories.... "That's not who you are know! She was weak and valuable." I quickly turned and walked swiftly

A Paladin stepped closer to the wounded and immobile slaver hound, igniting her in a bath of light. Pulses of his laser rifle cooked her flesh and dissolved the fatty tissue. The smell of burnt fur filled the air as a cloud of thick black smoke lifted from her form. Her flesh slipped from her limbs in a gelatinous puddle as she silently writhed and quivered in pain, unable to voice her agony.

As the tears fell from her face like the drips from the leaky faucet in her bathroom where she lay . while the hurt filled the soul of a young confused child she punctured her wrist violently slicing at her veins trying to kill the the voice that had been telling her to do this for years . she closed her eyes and kept dashing in an instant her entire wrist was covered with a deep pit of of blood and meat . She finally opened her eyes that were no longer filled with tears and she sat there not thinking , not feeling not knowing who she was , or if she was even anyone anymore . She was numb , she felt nothing at all no pain no joy no regret . She was a bleeding zombie. She was filled with despair because she was born a girl, but felt

His father’s attempts at punishment failed miserably, as Hound in an angered state of his father’s betrayal, bit his hand until it hung dangerously from a small piece of skin. Hound hunted more animals, leaving them to rot around the village. The young group of boys stopped playing outside, out of fear that Hound would hurt them too. News of a rabid half beast, half human had spread to other villages, causing whatever visitors that came before, to ignore this village above the sea, almost religiously. Hound had felt proud of himself, but he had no idea that the other villages weren’t the only ones to hear of his