What Is Frightful Fields Essay

As I walked, the air of this haunted, dreadful and sorrowful land had sucked the life out of everything and roared as humanity began to disappear. As I carried on walking, I noticed that the small fraction of light was getting smaller and smaller, until it had been engulfed into a think black ash like smoke. Aggressively, the wind walked past the building with its cruddy feeling, blowing away all signs of life. Deeper and deeper into the land was a burning car door. The fire roared and crackled. The roaring and crackling of the burning car door merged with the aggressive air and created the loudest sounds ever heard on land. Growing darker, the skies made me feel nauseous. The fear of not waking up if a human fell asleep towered

The mouldy, rotting, brown house stood in front of Emily, only fear keeping her feet planted to the ground. Moaning and creaking noises being projected from the house. The grass was damp from the evening fog and every time she took a step the mud squelched. The bottom step squeaked as she applied pressure with her foot, she let out a sigh of relief as the old structure hadn’t swallowed her up. The door, slightly off colour from the rest of the house, loomed over her like a giant as he reached for the brass door handle. A shiver ran through her body like an electric current, the musty smell of a house that had been long abandoned filled Emily’s nose. It was dim and uninviting. The furniture dusty and old, looking as if it would crumble to dust if she was to touch it. Mould ate away at

The lights of the town were veiled in darkness, a mere inverted shadow amidst the gloom of the night. Distant thunderings, as those brought to mind with Dies Irae or the distant chattering of a great blaze could be heard, drawing nigh upon the trembling hands of the people frantically seeking a shade for the lights that would soon propagate should their brilliance stretch to the skies, but found difficulty locating even their hands at arm’s length, due to the cloud over the town, in the streets, as real and thick as the blanket of golden and crimson extending toward the town at a propeller’s rate, silencing the natural beauty of the countryside amid the sounds of death and destruction.

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

At the front gate, there were weeds all over what used to be a garden. The door suddenly swung on its creaky hinges. Pitch black. You couldn’t see a thing in the cabin. Every couple of minutes shingles would fall off the roof. I was scared. Terrified. Then I heard creaking floorboards.

The clearing was quiet, it seemed lifeless. The Salinas River still flowed merrily near the hillside. The water was still warm from the afternoon sun, and still reflected a green hue. On one side of the river, the smooth foothill slopes still curved up to the strong and rocky Gabilan Mountains, and the other side was still lined with trees. The willows and sycamore branches still swung gently in the wind, and the leaves still created a green light within the space. It was totally calm and peaceful… but something was wrong. The air seemed heavier, and the sun seemed dimmer. No animals stirred, and everything seemed to be aware of a deep sadness. Nothing moved save for a small group of men standing around an unmoving figure.

The stone streets were a veil at this time of night, with who knows how many menacing horrors hiding behind the curtain. The lingering gas hovering over the ground was timid, dispersing at the sight of anyone who strayed near. The moon tried to pry into the city’s shadows, but it was too thick to cut. The buildings were nothing but faded memories: gray, eroded structures that once boasted splendor and beauty. Street rats, both rodent and human, scuttled about in the alleyways, knocking assortments over and fleeing if anyone walked past, just like the gas. A dog barked in the distance. Car horns blared on 5th Avenue nearby. Tank sighed. No place like home.

Crumpled newspapers scattered the table like the bones of dead bodies after war. Windows wiped down of memories huddled between oak frames, facing a street with cosy cottages. Single embroidered carpets hugged the floor, covering the marble tiles in delicate silk. A whisper of wind floated in through cracks of the panes of glass, whispering it's songs of misery throughout the house. I breathed in gulps of air, allowing the icy coolness to fill my lungs, and the morning frost creep out. My glistening blue eyes presented purple bags, and my sleek hair was a tangled cobweb. My feet dragged along the stone floor like the walking of the undead. I’d been up all night, searching and seeking for answers.

A gloomy mood is shown through phrases like “warping clapboards,” “decayed stumps,” and “failing flame.” Finally, a violent mood is shown through the phrases “terrified beyond the power to cry out,” “deranged,” and “dreadfully lacerated.” The theme of the story is that you must stay alert to protect yourself and others.

The rushing wind blows a scent of sea salt across my body, tickling my nose and awakening my senses. Slowly my eyes open to absorb the beauty of the morning sky, which is delicately speckled with poignant white cotton balls. A loud snore can be heard from the main room of the apartment, while the stilled breathing of my brother drones on. Carefully, I crawl out from my bed exiting the guest room and making my way slowly across the tiny apartment. My entire family lays across the main floor in a tangled mess of inflated beds and plush blankets. I traverse the maze with a multitude of leaps and bounds until I make contact with the porch door; which I slide through with relief. Standing within the square enclosure the turquoise tinted water greets me with beauty and graciousness. Even from the

On one of those nights, when I drifted off into a nightmare, I found myself alone in a silent town that looked to be abandoned. The walls of the buildings, as well as the sidewalks had writing on them. Words such as "Mr. Piggyton" and "Play!" were drawn on with chalk. There were also random names written as well. The most troubling was the large drawing of Mr. Piggyton that was drawn on the walls of an abandoned candy store. Below that, "Let's all have some fun!" was written.

As I paid my visits to Elkton, a new town revealed itself. Elkton was dying. The sign on the hardware store had fallen on one side, the movie store had bankrupted and closed, and the tiny library was a pathetic joke. I never went back to the thrift store, I had thrown away my stuffed animals long ago, and the place stank of cheap cigarettes. Worst of all, the little house I had once lived in was dead and vacant. Weeds almost swallowed the "For Sale" sign at the road, and a green film grew over the siding. To me, Elkton reeked of decay and hopelessness. I hated the

Could the landscape of fear really affect anything? Well this article it states a lot of facts that it indeed does. I never really understood what it might by "landscape of fear," until I read this article twice. All the evidence in this article proves that it is hard to disagree that it doesn't affect anything.

I looked up at the black sky. I hadn't intended to be out this late. The sun had set, and the empty road ahead had no streetlights. I knew I was in for a dark journey home. I had decided that by traveling through the forest would be the quickest way home. Minutes passed, yet it seemed like hours and days. The farther I traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to get. I was very had to even take a breath due to the stifling air. The only sound familiar to me was the quickening beat of my own heart, which felt as though it was about to come through my chest. I began to whistled to take my mind off the eerie noises I was hearing. In this kind of darkness I was in, it was hard for me to believe that I could be

It was an average night in Westerberg. The street lights, protectors from shadows and crime, flickered as if pretending to be lightning. The scent of pizza and burgers, wafting about, attempts to lure any “starving” customers. The woods distant from the city, contained even more excitement and activity. Honey badgers hunted as the unsuspecting squirrels scavenged for berries and other rodent delicacies. The hungry grizzlies, eager for a pleasant meal, strolled around in search of a victim. Not far from the ravenous beasts, a struggling couple had experienced difficulties. Gasping for air, fighting for stamina, Jane the woman who had been a wanted criminal for years, sprinted to her getaway car.