please write your own short gothic/scary story for me, I'm giving 50 points, please don't waste my points, just write what ur gothic scary is about, about 3 paragraphs,plsssssss don't search or else I will report
Answers
Explanation:
Gothic Imagery In Gothic Stories
Gothic storytelling is a form of writing that usually includes horror, death, and romance. People write gothic style for the thrill of having a little bit of scariness in their story. Gothic style can be shown through the imagery and themes. The Fall of the House of Usher and Crimson Peak are two stories that show gothic writing though the imagery of the houses and supernatural. The Fall of the House of Usher is about an old house that is very gross and creepy along with how a family cando. How is tension and suspense built up and maintained in at least two Gothic horror stories? The genre of Gothic Horror was developed during 19th and early 20th century and had a popular appeal to the new middle class people who sought entertainment. Gothic Horror has common characteristics of suspense, fear and would often include a rational, scientifically minded character who fails to heed warnings. Gothic horror tales often have exotic and mythical influences. The night and the The rain was deafening. I peered around through the rain, desperately searching for some shelter, I was drowning out here. The trouble was, I wasn’t in the best part of town, and in fact it was more than a little dodgy. I know this is my home turf but even I had to be careful. At least I seemed to be the only one out here on such an awful night. The rain was so powerfully loud I couldn’t hear should anyone try and creep up on me. I also couldn’t see very far with the rain so heavy and of course
Answer:
The rain was deafening.
I peered around through the rain, desperately searching for some shelter, I was drowning out here. The trouble was, I wasn’t in the best part of town, and in fact it was more than a little dodgy. I know this is my home turf but even I had to be careful. At least I seemed to be the only one out here on such an awful night. The rain was so powerfully loud I couldn’t hear should anyone try and creep up on me. I also couldn’t see very far with the rain so heavy and of course there were no street lights, they’d been broken long ago. The one place I knew I could safely enter was the church, so I dashed.
At last I arrived, unmolested except for the rain, at the hefty decaying doors of the church. I pushed the door and it obediently opened, then I slid inside closing it surreptitiously behind me. No point in alerting others to my presence. As I turned my shoulder, my gaze was held by the magnificence of the architecture. It never fails to move me. My eyes begin by looking at the ceiling, and then they roam from side to side and finally along the walls drinking in the beauty of the stained glass windows which glowed in the candle light, finally coming to rest on the altar. I slipped into the nearest pew with the intention of saying a few prayers when I noticed him. His eyes were fixated upon me. I stared at the floor, but it was too late, because I was already aware that he wasn’t one of the priests, his clothes were all wrong and his face! It seemed lifeless. I felt so heavy. My eyes didn’t want to obey me. Neither did my legs. Too late I realised the danger! Mesmerised, I fell asleep.
Gasping in terror I awoke and shot to my feet. He was gone, but where, how long had I been here and ...
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... everywhere! The cross above the altar had fallen and was half submerged in blood and the statues had blood running down their faces as if they had been injured. Lumps and clots were all over me even inside my clothes and shoes. The stench of death was all encompassing. Never had I either seen or smelt such things before.
Then I saw him. In the middle of the church half swamped by the blood, he lay. I struggled to my feet and wadded with great difficulty through the coagulating blood. It was definitely him and he had a faint pulse. I dragged him by his arm outside and yelled. The gargoyles that adorned the front of the church were peering down at me. At that moment I saw movement out of the corner of my eye again, but I was startled by the claxon sound warning of a bombing raid.