For over a thousand years, an inexplicably dark secret has shrouded the serene countryside adjacent to the town of Pogradec in southeastern Albania. Within the vast, dense forest, which borders the seemingly placid community, the trees contain an extraordinary kind of sap uniquely tainted with blood--human blood. Not unlike a sublime facade, the beautiful, rolling meadows beyond the forest still mask the horrific sight of uncountable corpses rotting beneath the earth in unmarked graves. As each subjugated victim vanishes, family and friends mourn their loss; however, over time, memories of them and the circumstances surrounding their disappearances slowly fade. Continuing to seal their fates to this very day, tragedy abounds amidst a series
After taking a canoe ride on an icy lake, 21-year-old McQuillen had vanished in southern Wisconsin. He slipped through their fingers like water, and it happened so suddenly. There is no mistaking, however, that McQuillen was dearly loved. The grief had been only multiplied when they learned that not just McQuillen but all four of the young men involved had been killed in the accident.
On March 13th, 1964, in New York, a young woman by the name of Catherine “Kitty” Genovese was just coming home from her late shift at work. It’s three a.m., and as she’s walking to her apartment building, she notices a suspicious, hooded man some distance away. Rightfully concerned, she goes to the phone booth, aiming to call the police, but never makes it in time. She’s stabbed in the back, and then in her gut. When her screams cause the neighbors to turn the lights on, all they do
“Killings", written by Andre Dubus in 1979, involves several aspects such as revenge, morality, and murder. Elements, such as the story’s title, the order of events, and the development of the characters, are very unique. It successfully evokes emotion and suspense as the plot unfolds in sequence. Though it seems easily overlooked, the title “Killings” is very important due to the fact that the thrill of suspense is left in the mind of the reader. The title encourages readers to question who and what. It is also an intricate setting for the plot’s mood. It implies that a murder has taken place, but that is all the reader knows. The chronology of the story uses a style called "in media res”, a term used to describe the common strategy of
In the Pashupatinath valley region, there is a cremation temple which is a part of the landscape of the dead in Nepal. A landscape of the dead is a place where burial rituals are carried out, which may vary by religion. In Pashupatinath, when a woman’s husband or family dies, she wears white. The attendees of the funeral offer the soul of the deceased body incense, food, and water so that it doesn’t feel troubled on its journey towards a new form. The deceased’s mouth is then lit on fire by the eldest brother, which is said to purify his/her soul. In the landscape, there are also many river cleaners who pan for gold fillings that come from the teeth of the deceased.
“Twenty bodies were thrown out of our wagon. Then the train resumed its journey, leaving behind it a few hundred naked dead, deprived of burial, in the deep snow of a field in Poland.” (104)
The physical appearance preservation of the bog bodies is normally in prime condition. Because of this condition it means that scientists and archaeologists are able to study the features of the body and conclude things like the development of physical evolution from the ancient body to bodies of modern society. They can also obtain information on the cause of death of the body by seeing things like, for example, the Tollund man, who had a rope around his neck that concluded he had been hung to death. And by concluding causes of death, it can also be seen if the body was of sacrificial or a ritual demonstrating what burial practices were in place.
Outside, a deep silence fell over the neighborhood. This silence crept into every household. Members of the community had a guise of anger and pain expressed on their faces. Everyone locked themselves inside, to lament such a tragedy that has brought sorrow to a twelve years old’s family. Parents fell on their knees with tears in their eyes. This last murder represented the final straw. So many of their own had been murdered by the malicious, metallic, monsters that were supposed to be the defenders of their community. They felt insecure, threatened by the
It’s been going on for weeks, already over 400 kids have been infected. The floors and wall are a mess, the janitors can barely keep up with them. It’s spitballs galore. There has never been an outbreak like this at Campbell. We’ve only ever heard of these happening.
The night drew closer around the individuals who, some in dreams, some in panic, seemed to react to impending danger and turned, some to nightmares, some to an eerie calm, as those on death row that accepted their demise for what it was, an abrupt shattering of their existence. Be that as it may, however, some did not wish to go so simply. While some wished for a calm ending, but embraced nevertheless a less subtle end, that of fire and mutilation, others feared it for what it was, or what it could be. Some feared being lost, trapped in a dungeon of previously sound architecture, to watch the edges of their vision turn to the blackness of
Markus Zusak’s Book Thief chronicles the life of Liesel Meminger and those who crossed her path. Through his use of Death as a narrator, a profound underlying message of the wondrous complexity of the human world is presented, balancing the ever-present forces of evil and good.
Have you ever wondered how different your life would be if your parents just disappeared; that is how Gone by Michael Grant captures our attention in the first chapter of this book. Gone is about a group of friends fighting for survival due to the disappearance of all of the adults in their hometown, Perdido Beach. In the first few chapters, Sam, Astrid, and a few of their friends start searching for their parents, to eventually realize they have just disappeared. In this journal, I will be predicting, questioning, and evaluating.
Bill Ellis’s, “Death by Folklore: Ostension, Contemporary Legend, and Murder,” speaks to how cultural and societal fear can not only form and inform legend, but can inspire real world, physical consequences. These consequences are material acts known as Ostension. Ostension is the liminal ground where the narrative of legend meets personal experience. Ostension, and particularly legend-tripping, is, by necessity, grown out of the cultural source hypothesis, as both require knowledge of a legend before the experience can occur. The first stage of the legend-trip, according to Michael Kinsella in the chapter,“The Performance of Legend-Tripping,” is the telling or retelling of the narrative(s) of the site or ritual participants are about to embark
I threw him out into the bright red, exclusive corridor of the 6th floor; where we had kidnapped him from his room in Hotel Central Paris. As I followed him, Jug grabbed him back by the back of the neck and shoved him to Alex, who took out his gun. He pressed our black coloured pistol was tightly against the man’s back, for when he made move to escape. We were too far into fail this time. I watched a man - an enemy - behind me fall down clutching his throat. A sense of satisfaction filled me. The five of us now worked together as a formidable team: Alex, me, Jug and our two accomplices. I almost growled beneath my mask thinking how one of us could have been so effortlessly snatched away. We were going to bring her back, whatever it cost.
Two nine-year-old girls are abducted from a bus stop. Both are found dead in a drainage ditch the next day, disposed of less than 100 yards away. The press refers to the victims as “fallen little angels,” and the investigators do not conduct an investigation into the victims’ family histories, focusing instead on a possible serial
Scuttling innocently through the twisting corridors I bore the same expression; head down, shoulders hunched, avoiding any eye contact - my desperate attempts to deter the despot for one day at least. Despite my efforts, there was no escape, as seemingly within the second of having that naively optimistic thought, a cruel, callous voice demanded I surrender my broach. Fear spiked, as it always did, but with it came something else, an alien emotion ... Looking back now, I see that it must have been the cumulative effect of months of torment that brought me to the realisation that at this point I had reached the nadir of my life. Deriding cackles pierced my ears and this time I recognised the emotion, fury. It burned through my veins, along with the memories of the past to form a feeling of overwhelming power. I met the daggers that would usually invoke terror, and calmly, I said “No.”