Essay about The Haunted House - Original Writing

It is present day in a small town known as Salem, MA. Its getting closer and closer to Halloween. I see the leaves are beginning to change, the nights are getting cooler, the sounds of tractors in the field harvesting crops, the sight of pumpkins everywhere decorating houses with faces and designs carved into them surround the neighborhood. Salem, MA is a very quiet town where everyone knows everyone and everyone gets along, for the most part.

Instead, it was a voice filled with concern, echoing and rattling inside their skull with its sharp pitch. Their eyes fluttered open to see an unrecognizable face swimming across their vision among an array of color.

i was getting really terrified. then its gets really silent the man was gone my brother saying that

Afraid of the Wrong Demons The Haunting of Hill House is a short horror novel written by American author Shirley Jackson in the late fifties. This novel centralizes itself around a group of unordinary individuals, however one in particular is aloof from the rest in terms of personality and socialness. This character displays attributes such as selfishness, insecurity, and impulsive actions that ultimately lead her to her own demise. Eleanor Vance is a thirty two year old woman and protagonist in the story of The Haunting of Hill House. She is a very complex character with many different aspects.

You looked around, looking for the mysterious figure, until you saw the chair he was sitting in.

Walking and walking, I started speed walking, then eventually running stomping through the snow. I couldn't find him anywhere through the trees. Trees, trees, and more trees! That's all I saw.

against the horizon, a great black figure suddenly appeared on the face of the sun. We

Surrounded by creatures in every colour possible, the menacing grey shadow stood out like a sore thumb. I looked up and saw it fast approaching, I could feel the current as the water was pushed aside by it's fins.

When I see him so I ran through the front door and I said” AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

He spotted me at the same time, and we both ran for the door, him out the back and me out the side. I ran across the street to the neighbors who called the police. It didn’t have much effect on me, but it did make me weary of people wearing black ski masks, even to this day I hate seeing people wear them. Not necessarily stranger anxiety but I think it relates.

I then walked up to his clothes lying in the ground and something moved in it.

At the moment he had gotten shot I ain't know what to do. Chase the shooter or just stay near his side.

High upon a lonely hill surrounded by a great dark forest, stood an ancient, crumbling manor, known as the Haunted House. The windows were all smashed and it looked like the house was used a long time ago and was never used again. The font gates were as old as the hills. It belonged to a greedy old man, he was as short as a stump, he was really grumpy and fat who everyone said he was a wizard. Even though he owned the immense haunted house he didn’t dare to go inside because he was frightened like a child in dark, so he lived in the small cottage in the grounds of the manor, with just his black cat for company. He was as lonely as the master who has go to war, but hews happy, because he had a true love. His true love was gold, and he had

Tick, tock, tick, tock, the sound of the clock is the only sound in the house. I look up at the clock at it says 2:55am. Which is strange because it has felt like we have been here for hours, from the time we broke into the house, which was at 12:30am. No one else can be seen or heard, so I am all alone now.

There 's that look people get told they have, where they look like they 've seen a ghost. I want to know what it means to have that feeling but knowing you 're the ghost. It had been too long since I stepped foot anywhere near these parts of the city. After I turned and changed into who I am now, I never wanted to risk getting seen by any members of the family that runs this part. That is actually a good reason they have never been able to extend their territory any further. It 's kind of easy to hear when a gang war is about to break out for someone to gain new ground. And for me, it 's all too easy to join the defending family and help kill men you were once friends with to make sure you had the room to run fucking wild. I 'm made a few good friends, nah I made a few bad acquaintances by doing that. The men that run other parts of this city know me by who I am now, only one knows me by who I was. Maybe it 's for the best he knows Big Mac is against him, less likely that it 's me behind the mask then. God, in those days, before I grew up and found out doing everything I was getting told to do, without being told to do them was so much better, Claire not counting, she just above another voice in my head. But the freedom I have, may not seem like a good thing for the city and its people, but I love being me and only this me.