How To Write A Gothic Story

As the carriage stopped beneath the archway, Elizabeth Cockles jumped out and looked around her. Above her head was a tall archway of trees that edged the pathway to the house. As she got closer, Elizabeth realised that “mansion” was a more correct way to describe it.

Poe and Byron are masterful at using vivid, descriptive language to develop the elements of Gothic literature and instill a sense of fear in the reader.

An elbow smashes into my jaw and nose, blood instantly gushing from my nose. I drop to one knee, refusing to fall completely. Rage rushes through me as I breathe hard and try to gather my wits. He suddenly drops my wrist and a boot flies in the corner of my eye and ends in my ribs.

I am going to sleep in my own bed in my home; as I sleep, a familiar scent slowly starts to fill the air. I wake up in a cold sweat; I know he is there, in my house. I don’t open my eyes because I don’t want to know how close he is, but I can tell he is still in the hallway; the scent is not strong enough yet. I listen with all my might, hoping I can hear the carpet moving under his feet or maybe I will hear his breath first. The carpet gives it away, he is entering my room; I can feel him standing over me for what feels like a lifetime. I’m so careful not to change the pattern of my breathing for fear he will know I’m awake. He turns and walks out. Now I’m listening even harder, and my heart sinks when I hear it. My mother’s gasping breaths, I know he has her by the throat. What do I do? I’m only fourteen, by no means large enough or strong enough to stand up to him, so I stay and pray he won’t hit her again. Then the shouting starts. He accuses her of running around on him, with her boss, the neighbor, and every other male she has come in contact with. He screams at her to take off her clothes, he wants to see her

There wasn’t much I could do other than turn off the lights. Surprisingly, for how nice this room was it didn’t have a door to it, just a big opening. Even the door to the basement didn’t have a lock on it. For my safety, I turned off all the light in the office and the computer monitors. I kept my phone on the desk texting Tyson to see what is going on. But, he wouldn’t respond to me. I sat down in the dark and played games on my phone for what felt like 20 minutes. I had no idea what was happening because I couldn’t hear anything from downstairs. But, I was not allowed to call anyone until I was sure the lockdown was over. Then, the noisy basement door opened. As the creaking echoed through the basement into my office, I sat up in my seat wondering if I should call out for Tyson. I was eager to get some information from him. Someone then came running down the stairs and their footsteps were

I heard the car backing up on to the driveway. He was here. The man. I sprang out of bed as I heard the door opening. I quickly scanned the room for a spot to hide. I heard the keys hitting the table. I was running out of time. In a panic, I tried crawling under my bed. Trying to bend my body into impossible shapes, there was no use. I couldn't fit. Heavy footsteps hit the stairs, growing louder with each step. Bang. BANG. BANG! I was running out of time. I quickly squeezed myself into my tiny closet. I hugged my legs to chest. By now the man was at my door. He opened it with one movement of his hand. Things crashing and breaking as he searched for me. Each footstep rumbled the ground like an earthquake. His footsteps approached my closet.

He came at me, I snapped my fingers. I was behind him. Then boom, he used it. Time felt like it stopped. I could see him hitting me, but no pain. Then I felt it, every hit he landed all at once. It hurt I thought I was going die. I coughed up some blood and stood up. He did it again, but even harder. I got up and concentrated waiting for him to do it again. Then he used it, I saw his fist coming, I snapped my fingers. I was behind him and came for a kick; it hit him with enough force to break the ground. He got up, his face looking surprised.

Minutes later, I hear him come up the stairs and I panic. He inserts a key and the door opens; brown evil eyes meet mine and I collapse into a ball

He pushed me so I got a little mad and pushed him back when he pushed me a second time I didn’t feel okay I started to shake and couldn’t really breath. He seen me panic so he tried to calm me down but it didn’t work so he went to get help. I started to walk backward toward the stairs I felt myself start to loose balance as I fell down the stairs. Everything went black and I couldn’t hear I tried screaming

The Gothic genre has been embraced by our society. It can be found in movies, books, and other entertainment such as The Woman in Black and Batman: The Dark Knight. Through books, movies, and other gothic examples, we can see how the gothic genre has changed from just being original in style to being truly suspenseful by increasing the complexity of the suspense and adding focus on the characters and their struggles.

Me and mom went home ate dinner and went to bed. When I went to bed that night I had no idea i would be woken up at 5am by the screaming voice of my mother but on January 26 at 5am I became scared, I heard the screams but I couldn’t make out what was being said. It sounded like someone was being stabbed and at first I thought it was just a dream. I grabbed my phone to check the time, I didn’t want to come out of my room until i knew what was wrong so I just waited and in less than 5min my mom busted into my room screaming and crying, at this point I still didn’t know what she was saying but I knew no one else was in the house so I felt a little better. I remember following her around the house trying to figure out what she was saying. She sat in the living room chair to put her shoes on and she could barely do that. While she was still trying to put her shoes on I stood next to her trying to calm her enough for me to understand what she was saying and when she yelled out “My mom” I didn't know what to do, I fell to the floor and sat against the chair. When mom got her shoes on she searched for her phone realizing she needed to call my dad at

late i was closing my eyes slowly and right when i close them there's another hard bang on the

I opened my eyes into the darkness just in time for the fluorescent light to flicker blinding me momentarily with its brightness. As a natural reaction I go to move my hand infront of my eyes as a shield to protect myself from being blinded again. But as I do this motion my arm becomes stuck or held back, a pinching pain rushes up my arm from the joint of my arm creating an ache to emanate from the area. My eyes no longer feel heavy and the creaky, uncomfortable surface I am laying on are no longer at the forefront of my thoughts, all I want to know is why I am in pain and trapped in place.

I hear several loud bangs while I sleep. I soon realize my mom is knocking on my bedroom door. Confused, I get up to unlock and open my door. I immediately notice that my mom is crying. My mom says, “We have to go, grandpa is dying.” She can barely get the last three words out. My heart drops. I initially think I’m dreaming but I soon realize this is very real. I instantly get dressed, when I walk out to the kitchen my mom is waiting. We leave for the hospital.

The use of Gothic literature appears in a sector of shortened stories. These stories all share similar themes within the stories. The two shared themes throughout the short stories I have chosen are revenge and grotesqueness. Most of these stories were written in the same time range which is a similarity of why their following themes could have been influenced.