Gothic Short Stories

I clenched my stomach as we drove down the road. My eyes focused on one star in the sky, I knew if I pulled my eyes away my insides would be out and exposed to everyone. My cheeks stung from tears and my breaths were short as we drove to my church. as we pulled up it took me a while to open the car door, my hands were shaky and weak. friends hugged me and cried as I buried my head into their shoulders, the little light of hope I had left in my heart was burning out and I could feel it. I could see it as the storm clouds rolled in, as the thunder crashed and almost echoed my feelings in the sky. I felt vulnerable to life for the first time that night. As I descended down the stairs to join the rest of the group that was meeting to pay I heard

Slowly advancing towards my desk, I begin to study the faces of my colleagues; scowling in distaste with the world we live in. The long aisles of desks stretch forever, as i continue along the path towards my desk, the bleak walls slowly in case me in all its melancholic glory. The clock taunts me with its speed, forever at the same pace never changing unlike life. Report after report i file for the police, the stack never ends as the world fell into chaos long ago.

They were executed. Exactly twenty-nine days later it happened again. Humanity was lost in the eyes of many, all were executed this happened many times, and the priests asked the cure god for anything to get rid of this disastrous disease, but all the Cure God said was,

The ground was dark, gloomy and grim; as it moved in ripples. I anxiously went flying free through the welcoming darkness.

Early June sun shone bright as I set off into town. I drove down the winding road. My mind drifted into oblivion. I knew this road's every twist and turn when CRUNCH. I stepped outside to assess the damage. To my despair, I found a tree had viciously mutilated the right side of my Volkswagen Jetta. I drove home in a sorrowful state of self pitty. The rage of my parents was inevitable. After countless hours being lectured, they calmed down and came to the conclusion that I must get a job.

Everyone was steeped in shadows while darkness echoed around us. The putrid stench of decaying matter stung my nose, as I blindly searched for the path, like a newborn chick. Only the faintest signs of orange light shone through the cracks of the weathered walls. The intermittent creaks and moans were heard from a distance. I knew I was near something. I looked around and saw the slight outline of Crystal. The somber portraits were staring at me under layers of dust. It penetrated every part of my soul. I felt the warm moisture of a puff on my shoulder. Crystal was

She was malnourished and her face was marred by sweat and dirt. I remembered her face vividly; she had a beautiful, innocent glow and light brown eyes. She stood there weakly as we entered the shop. When we hurried out, I noticed her standing abnormally still. We heard her fall and ran back to her. Her eyes were wide and still. We desperately cried for help while trying to wake her, but when we finally acknowledged her death, we both screamed and almost dropped her. After help had come, I broke down. I experienced days of overwhelming guilt as a result of that occurrence because even though I had not killed her, looking at her lifeless, blameless face was an image I could not forget and couldn’t stop blaming myself

In my opinion, the most dominant type of conflict found in the dystopian novel City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau is Person Versus Technology. There are many examples in the book that show this category of conflict. Both of the main characters, Lina and Doon, are part of some conflict that falls into this category. Perhaps the most important conflict that falls into this category is that supplies, like light bulbs, are running out in Ember. For example, when Lina visits Lizzie at the Supply Depot, she overhears conversation in which when shopkeepers asked for items, the clerks would say, “‘Sorry,’ ... when a shopkeeper asked for ten packets of sewing needles, or a dozen drinking glasses, or twenty packages of light bulbs. ‘There’s a severe shortage

My window burst open with a loud thud; a gust of chilly air flew into the dark room, sending stray papers in every direction. A thick beam of moonlight cast eerie shadows across the four walls of my bedroom. Sitting up in my bed, I could see a human-shaped shadow on the carpeted floor. I lifted my eyes to the open window and, although it was dark, I could clearly see the silhouette of a person crouching down to climb through the window. Reaching over, I flipped the switch on the blue lamp standing next to my bed. Light flooded the room and allowed my eyes to focus on the character that now stood in my room.

2:14AM. Frankie’s apartment was both cold and tranquil. The walls were a light grey, and the blinds were shut only to where the slightest bit of city lights shone through. Ariana tossed and turned around the flimsy pullout couch, continuously flipping her pillow over in hopes that the cooler side would prove soothing. She had visited her brother’s New York loft with an unfortunate mindset. It seemed that as each day elapsed, she found her pace quickening as she relentlessly continued to stroll down the path to her own destruction; she was falling through the darkness of her own mind, hastily descending into that frigid, black crevice in which she had, to some extent, always been imprisoned in. Going to another with her troubles had seemed like

It was the end of autumn and as I was coming back from college, the last rays of sun before the winter season hit me in my face so I turned my head to the side. That is when I saw her, curled up and isolated in a corner of Wall Street, with a piece of torn cloth covering her body. She was trembling.

I pedaled in circles on my deck in my backyard, the wood creaked as I accelerated over each plank. I felt like superman speeding to chase villains. The wind slapped my face to the right and left, forcing me to glance at the trees passing by. I heard my dad over the roar of the wind yelling at me to come inside. Then I crashed.

The piercing pain in her chest was enough to bring her down to her knees.

I remember old times as I sit back and stare out the window on a rainy Sunday afternoon. It has been about two years since the incident occurred. The thought of how you can lose someone 's trust in one second is terrifying. It takes a long time to gain someone 's trust again after it is broken. With this in mind, I learned that my actions can affect others, but on this day I also learned that trying to fit in is not always the best thing to do.

I sat alone at my desk with the door shut and lights off. It was a Friday night. Ordinarily, I would be out with his friends or on a date with Leena, but now, I was using my free nocturnal hours to wallow in my melancholy mood, finishing my assigned reading of Macbeth. Growing up, I read a lot. We didn 't have a television in the small apartment, so all I had were books to keep me company. Keep me company while my mom was busy waitressing. Tonight, however, I wasn 't in the reading mood, and I was finding Macbeth to be a tragedy that was both insipid and incomprehensible. After rereading the same passage for the third time, I decided to take a break and close my eyes. The soft murmur of rain tapped against my window, I liked the sound, it