Horserider
11-04-2008, 05:36 PM
:mad: For some reason I can't change the title of my other thread so I decided to start a new one.
Please critique my short story. It's for American Literature class and we were supposed to write a short story using Dark Romanticism traits. See my other thread "Need some Inspiration..." for a list of what these traits are.
Anyway here's my story:
Just five doors down from our house was a mansion. It had been there for as long as anyone living could remember. It was owned by a man named Dr. Hemlig, a rather eccentric scientist. Though many believed that he might be a great scientist he was highly distrustful of people after his partner had attempted to steal his greatest work and publish it as his own. After that incident he had locked himself in his house and had never been seen since. Most people automatically avoided the mansion now. Rumor said that it was haunted by Dr. Hemlig’s ghost.
When I first moved to the town I didn’t believe the tale at first, though it soon became evident that there was something up with the house. Strange screeches and noises that sounded like rusty gears grinding together emanated from the house during the night.
Then one year after I moved to the town my life changed forever. It was Halloween and I was trick-or-treating with my friends. We walked down the street towards my house, our bags filled to the brim with candy.
“Look it’s the old Hemlig house!” one of my friends, Thomas Mackalin, called, undaunted by the familiar sight of the mansion “Ooooh scary!”
We all laughed, but glanced nervously up at the black, dust covered windows.
“I dare you to go up and knock on the door, Aaron!” Thomas called to me.
“Fine,” I yelled back trying not to betray how afraid I was at the very thought.
I turned and stalked up the mansion. I fingered the black wrought iron gate and assiduously tried to keep my hands from shaking as the gate swung open with a loud screech. I walked slowly up the house, each of my footsteps echoing in the perfect silence. I refused to allow myself to turn and check to see if my friends were still watching me. I was afraid that if I did I might not be able to keep going.
I walked up the creaking wooden steps to the door and knocked three times. The soft knocks echoed and made me jump in my nervousness. I shook my head and tried to calm my frantically beating heart. Suddenly as I began to lose my nerve and turned to run away, the door creaked open and I felt a sudden pull to go inside.
I had time to only scan the resplendent room one time. It was a richly furnished room, brightly lit with oil lamps and candles. It was remarkably clean for a mansion that was supposedly abandoned: not a speck of dust anywhere.
“Hello Aaron,” a lurid voice said out of a dark corner, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Please critique my short story. It's for American Literature class and we were supposed to write a short story using Dark Romanticism traits. See my other thread "Need some Inspiration..." for a list of what these traits are.
Anyway here's my story:
Just five doors down from our house was a mansion. It had been there for as long as anyone living could remember. It was owned by a man named Dr. Hemlig, a rather eccentric scientist. Though many believed that he might be a great scientist he was highly distrustful of people after his partner had attempted to steal his greatest work and publish it as his own. After that incident he had locked himself in his house and had never been seen since. Most people automatically avoided the mansion now. Rumor said that it was haunted by Dr. Hemlig’s ghost.
When I first moved to the town I didn’t believe the tale at first, though it soon became evident that there was something up with the house. Strange screeches and noises that sounded like rusty gears grinding together emanated from the house during the night.
Then one year after I moved to the town my life changed forever. It was Halloween and I was trick-or-treating with my friends. We walked down the street towards my house, our bags filled to the brim with candy.
“Look it’s the old Hemlig house!” one of my friends, Thomas Mackalin, called, undaunted by the familiar sight of the mansion “Ooooh scary!”
We all laughed, but glanced nervously up at the black, dust covered windows.
“I dare you to go up and knock on the door, Aaron!” Thomas called to me.
“Fine,” I yelled back trying not to betray how afraid I was at the very thought.
I turned and stalked up the mansion. I fingered the black wrought iron gate and assiduously tried to keep my hands from shaking as the gate swung open with a loud screech. I walked slowly up the house, each of my footsteps echoing in the perfect silence. I refused to allow myself to turn and check to see if my friends were still watching me. I was afraid that if I did I might not be able to keep going.
I walked up the creaking wooden steps to the door and knocked three times. The soft knocks echoed and made me jump in my nervousness. I shook my head and tried to calm my frantically beating heart. Suddenly as I began to lose my nerve and turned to run away, the door creaked open and I felt a sudden pull to go inside.
I had time to only scan the resplendent room one time. It was a richly furnished room, brightly lit with oil lamps and candles. It was remarkably clean for a mansion that was supposedly abandoned: not a speck of dust anywhere.
“Hello Aaron,” a lurid voice said out of a dark corner, “I’ve been waiting for you.”