Rainsford-Personal Narrative

“Whitney? Whitney! Come back! Please, not again!” Screamed Rainsford, voice hoarse from his constant cries. Rain pounded on him, and the midnight-like sea was trying to pull him into its depths. No matter what he did, those on the yacht could not her him. He continued to yell until his voice was only a whisper. After what seemed like hours of being half drowned in the ocean, a quite, accented voice whispered in his ear. The pounding rain and thrashing sea should’ve drowned out his words, but Rainsford could hear them as if they were his own thoughts. “Who shall feed the hounds tonight, Rainsford?” Rainsford woke up in a cold sweat. He could see the moon, just rising to its peak through one of the many windows. After getting up and pacing around the room, he crawled back into bed and forced himself into a restless slumber.
The next morning when Rainsford

Rainsford put on a worried expression, but beneath it lay a cruel interest in a new type of hunt. “Don’t worry, I’ve come to save you all. My name is Sanger Rainsford, but you can just call me Rainsford. I promise I will get you all away from this horrid place,” he said in a gentle voice. He had to tamp down his excitement After Rainsford coaxed all the men from their cages, seven in all, he brought them up to the dining room. He made a shoddy excuse and left the room, but none of the sailors questioned him. They were all top busy scarfing down the food Rainsford had quickly prepared for them. After nearly an hour, Rainsford found everything he had been looking for. He returned to the dining room and placed one bag in front of each man. The bags contained one set of pants, a pair of moccasins, a plain shirt, and one dull knife. After searching through the mansion he had found Zaroff’s storeroom of items he gave to his prey. There had been more in there, but Rainsford wanted to balance out their larger number and his