I trembled with an overwhelming feeling of terror regarding the impossibility of the previous day’s events. I could not - no matter how hard I tried- wrap my head around them. Had they been ghosts? Had the died that day three years ago, and now have been haunting the house, going about their past lives? Or maybe I didn’t really see them, Maybe they weren’t really there. Maybe I’m insane. Though, of course I suppose that would also have to qualify Vera and Mrs. Sappleton for insanity as well. After all, they saw them, too. I started thinking of any scientifically sound Explanation for what had happened to cloak the supernatural one that had arisen first in my mind. However, I was snapped out of my thoughts by the eminently distressing sound of the ringing telephone. I dubiously answered …show more content…
Nuttel, I didn’t think you’d come back after yesterday. It’s scary, really. They return on the anniversary of their disappearance every year.”
“Yes, that’s actually why i came back. You see, I wasn’t always this nervous. It all began after my wife disappeared about six years ago. We looked for her everywhere, but she was never found. It took me years to accept the fact that she is gone. Though, sometimes I can still hear her voice. It sings, she loved singing. It sings the same song over and over again and i can never remember the name of it. Once or twice in the past i have even seen her. She dances around the house. It is truly terrifying, but I know that it was always all in my head. You see, the events of yesterday reminded me of her,” I began telling my own tale.
Vera’s face transformed into one full of guilt, “Oh. I’m so sorry about your wife, Mr. Nuttel. I lied about those things yesterday, I didn’t know about your wife. I must have caused you so much pain, remembering your tragedy. I hope you can forgive me, I was only trying to have a little fun.”
“It’s quite alright, but maybe now you will think twice before telling another tall
I am Simone Alexander. I have severe schizophrenia, but I take my medications regularly. I have been through a lot. Even in my condition, I still try to help out my community during the rough time I have been through. I care a lot about Hollywood, California, because I was raised here. I am such a high spirited, generous, and kind woman. I have been going through a 5 year hardship relationship with my on and off again boyfriend Lucas also known as Paw-Paw. Last night was horrific. The unthinkable was spoken. I was traumatized.
“Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy.. but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird” (Lee, 10). In the novel “To Kill a Mockingbird” by Harper Lee, the author writes about the life of a lawyer and his kids, Scout Finch and Jem Finch, while they grow and mature in Maycomb, Alabama, in the 1930’s. Scout is a hotheaded, 6-year-old tomboy who is prone to fighting for her family and making assumptions about people before thinking about their perspective. Jem is a growing, 10-year-old boy who believes that since everyone is equal in his household despite their ethnicity, no matter what color you are in Maycomb, people won't think differently of you.
After a few more minutes of waiting Anna decided to get out of bed and walk down to the food court to see if her father was there. After getting out of bed, Anna found a note taped to her father’s chair that she hadn’t seen before scripted in scribbly letters saying Based on your actions he might come back don’t tell anyone about this and he will come back unharmed. Anna hurriedly found the bag of her clothes that her mother had delivered overnight and pulled on a hot pink mini skirt and a white long sleeve crop top. After getting dressed Anna opened her door and stepped outside, there was no one anywhere to be seen. She continued to walk down the hall and there was still no noise and no one in sight. She walked straight to the elevator and went down to the first floor where the food court should be, but there was no one there either, the hospital had been abandoned and she was sure that the songbook and the object that played her melody the night before were somehow behind it all. She ran back up to her room as carefully as she could trying not to hurt her arm, and once she arrived at the door she grabbed the music book off the desk beside of her bed, tried to flush it down the toilet, and stuffed her cell phone in her bag of clothes that her mom had bought. She was about to pick up her bag when she heard a new melody right outside of her door. La, La, La, La, La, La. La, La, La, La, La. La, La, La, La, La. La, La, La, La, La, La, La. She wanted to see what was making the noise so she carefully opened her door and peeked through the opened crack. There nothing was there! She grabbed her bag of clothes and ran down the steps as quickly as she could but then she heard a voice behind her, “Aaaaannnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaa!!!!” the voice moaned “Aaaaannnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaa it isn’t safe at your house!!!!” said the voice. She spun around and saw a scrawny old man
If you were to see me walking down the street you would never guess that I was in foster care. I dress and act like your everyday 17 year old, and in a way I am. Except I was placed in foster care when I was 15 years old. Scratch that I put myself in foster care when I was 15 years old. I bet you’re asking “why”? “Why would you do such a thing”? Well my mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia also known as disorganized schizophrenia. Just in case you don't know disorganized schizophrenia is characterized by incoherent and illogical thoughts and behaviors, so when you are 15 that's not a good situation to be in. My mother couldn't keep a job therefore she could not support us.
One-thirty on a Thursday morning. I laid in bed worrying, after watching John rush to Main Street for a fire call. My head spun as the pager near my head continued to dispatch calls. “Be careful on the roof Watson, I can see light through,” Feltner’s voice echoed. Ambulance sirens boomed down a four-block stretch of Main Street. My body sprung from the bed and hurried out and down the block. My face began to fill with heat. Just then another page came through, “I know idiot, I put it there.” It was John’s voice. I felt relief and began to walk back down the sidewalk to our home. I heard a young girl screaming for her dog, hysterically. Finally, back in my house, I completely forgot that I had left the two girls upstairs. Thankfully,
“This is personal to you. I know what it’s like to lose someone, and believe me, I’ve been where you are right now. Maybe your emotional state will prevent you from focusing on this case,” Aidan added and smiled. His eyes seemed warm and caring now. Megan noticed how the pitch black color of Aidan’s eyes seemed both mysterious and hypnotic at the same time. “Hey, you came from Connecticut and asked for me. This means that you want me to work on this case because you know what I’m capable of,” said Megan. She was frustrated. She felt much more furious than she sounded. She thought that Aidan should thank her therapist who taught her how to keep her anger under control, and smiled a little.
I would stay alert all night sometimes. Every gust of wind or howl of our neighborhood dogs would send shivers through my spine. Throughout the nights I could hear whispers. I could never make out words except for this night. (I was half asleep when) I heard it say “Let me out” I opened my eyes and I was in front of the basement door. BANG. “LET ME OUT!” I got up and ran to my room locking the door behind me. I was breathing heavy by the time I got to my room. Looking at my hands, I realized they were covered in salt. There had been salt surrounding the door to the basement.(I had never realized that there was salt that surrounded the door.)After that The month slowly passed by without even a sound from her. People prepared for upcoming Halloween. Pumpkins were carved and set out in the front of people’s houses as people prepared for this week, Halloween. A loud bang i heard chains fall against the stairs along with soft foot steps ( I brought a flashlight to talk to her then her I could see her cold black eye through the
Constitution and declares, “Now, no talking, no cheating, no breathing, I better not see a muscle move in your body other than your hand to write on your test!”
No one considered that Schizophrenia was the ailment that tormented my brother. We assumed it was just stress and anxiety that stole his nights, his sanity, and his joy. We all believed that it was just a phase my happy, go-lucky, comic brother would get over. After all, doesn't everybody go through these rough patches of their life, and like a phoenix tried through a fire, rise triumphantly? That was my hope for my brother. But as the days progressed, fatigue mixed with delusions consumed my brother’s thoughts and disrupted his ability to function. As a sister, I felt helpless watching my big brother, my hero, and my confidant going through the greatest battle of his life - mental illness. Episodes and psychiatric breakdowns were constant,
It’s a struggle to get out of bed sometimes, I often just sit there struggling to comprehend the sequence of events which have taken place over the past year. I mean, I’m used to this now, its normal to me, but the fact that this has happened and that I am now ‘disabled’ as people would put it is hard to get my head around. And every time I look down I’m reminded of the pain and the struggle I faced, it’s a physical scar which links me to my grueling past, a physical and emotional journey.
I’ve been diagnosed with Schizophrenia, it is crazy, I know. Some would believe that being schizophrenic does make me crazy and sometimes I think I am. All the thoughts floating around, voices speaking to me, seeing things that aren’t really there, I couldn’t set priorities and not feeling “the right way” about many things. Before I was formally diagnosed, my family was very upset with me, my actions, and did not understand what was going on with me. I was having a very hard time caring for my premature baby properly and not bonding well with her, I think because I was having trouble with my emotions. Every day was hard, nothing seemed to make sense. I was sick and we all did not realize how bad it really could become, until it did. The good new is
OneOff Workout: 5-Round, 5-Move Total Body Fat Burn Off Circuit Join among our resident MF associate editors -round, 5-move circuit workout that burns fat and boosts endurance. There's probably a threat if one attempts to combine frequent heavy weight training with HIIT that is frequent of overtraining, especially when on a low calorie diet. I've heard various people claim that HIIT + lifting dangers overtraining, but I Have yet to experience it or see it with anyone that I Have worked with (numbering in the hundreds, probably close to 1,000) when kept in moderation. All of your fibers are killed by HIIT as you need them all to perform the exercise as in heavy weight lifting. And HIIT has been revealed to INHIBIT hunger, not stimulate it (which steady-state has been show to do). Muscle soreness is not much of an issue with HIIT after you get used to
I have schizophrenia and I live with schizophrenia. This is my story. I remember being a teenager and loving every bit of life from school work, my family, my dogs and my friends. I was always known for my positive attitude and energy and being the life of the group. This all started to change around the age of 13 or 14 for me. The voices began one late afternoon on my way home from school. At first I thought it was just my imagination until I realized there was no off button for them. The voices continued to appear from this day on and I gradually lost myself within them. I started to shelter myself from my family and friends and believed I was slowly losing my sanity. I was scared to share my experience with anyone so I kept to myself withdrawn from the world I once loved.
And I was there, too, hoping to find you and say to you, Come back, come back, there's only one street, one door, we didn't mean it, we didn't know, whatever was wrong will be different. Several times I decided you were dead, even wished you were dead, but then another postcard would come, with another message to ponder. And I've always read them, even when my husband said not to, even if they've driven me to tears or rage or a blankness when I've no longer cared if you were dead or anyone were dead, including myself. I've been faithful, too, you see. I've always looked up where you were in the atlas, and put your postcards in the box. Sixtythree postcards, four hundred—odd lines of scrawl: our life together. Why are you standing there like that? my daughter asks me. I must have been away somewhere, I say. But I'm back. Yes. You see, Mother, I always come back. That's the distance that separates us. But on summer evenings, when the windows are open to the dusk, I sometimes smell cities … wheat fields … oceans—strange smells from far away—all the places you've been to that I never will. I smell them as if they weren't pictures on a postcard, but real, as close as my outstretched hand. And sometimes in the middle of the night, I'll sit bolt upright, my husband instantly awake and frightened, asking, What is it? What is it?
Growing up , I have concluded that I am weird. Unique. Different, in a good way. Internally and externally. From the way I look, to the way I do things, to the way I think. Did everyone else think so?