the Conservatorium‚ suggesting his close relationship with her. After Gregor’s transformation‚ Grete initially seems to care about and feel concern for his well-being‚ as she would have before his metamorphosis. When she first sees Gregor‚ she shuts the door quickly in surprise‚ but she opened it again and "came in on tiptoe‚ as if she were visiting an invalid or even a stranger" (378). She didn’t want to disturb him and acted very polite around him. She sets out different types of food for him‚ to
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the real identity or psychological problems of a ghostly manifestation in order to escape Hill House. The narrative does not progress with terrified inhabitants metaphorically yanking on a door handle‚ trying to move an unmovable door. Instead‚ The Haunting of Hill House
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already. I banged on the door to hurry them up. It was my snotty older sister‚ who thinks she is so pretty and so popular in high school. She always takes forever in the washroom. It’s one of the reasons why I have to get up so early just to get to the bathroom before her. Just my luck for the start of the day. My sister has always been mean to me; she always picks on me and makes fun of me especially in front of her senior friends. Ooh I hate her so much. "Hurry up!" I yelled. Finally the door opened
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the speed limit‚ when my friend‚ Janet‚ suddenly shouted nervously that we were passing through an under-resourced part of town. The Jeep rolled to a halt at the stoplight and a homeless woman stood by the curb‚ holding a cardboard sign with “Homeless‚ anything helps” scratched into it. Seeing that we had stopped‚ she approached the car and began tapping on the window‚ calmly asking for spare change. My friend quickly locked all the doors and anxiously banged on the steering wheel. As she urged the
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you go with me? check yes or no. yes [] no [] Niall signed no. Below her message‚ he wrote: it? She’s not it. She’s my bestfriend. She thought you were her bestfriend too. She was wrong. I’m giving this to her. She’s a beautiful girl‚ shut up. Niall passed it to Micayla and whispered "she’s a true friend‚ alright." Micayla began crying. There were tears on the note. All she wrote back was: I hate you. oops‚ hand cramp‚ meant love. Oh‚ and right back at ya beautiful.(;
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The Old Abandoned House It seemed like an ordinary day. Everything seemed to be going well‚ but little did I know something terrible was going to happen. I gazed through window which seemed to me that it was going to be a bright‚ sunny day. As hours passed‚ it got darker‚ cloudier‚ and windy. It was my parent’s anniversary that day. They went to go to dinner around 6pm and left me home with the babysitter. I hated my babysitter with every ounce of my being. She puts on a fake smile and pretends
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munitions factory. In other words‚ Weilersbach is not exactly Rio. The wedding took place at City Hall. Naturally‚ I was the only Jew present‚ and I suddenly found myself in the town square‚ surrounded by 40 raucous Germans‚ all of them holding champagne flutes. When the newly-married couple emerged‚ there was a toast‚ and all those German arms were suddenly thrust straight up in the air. I know it was only a toast‚ but maybe there should be a law that prohibits Germans from raising their arms higher
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passed ever so slowly‚ and the perpetual sense of getting trapped became more and more plausible. Finally‚ the rusted elevator doors creaked open‚ and copious amounts of sunlight flooded each of their eyes. They blindly stumbled out onto the busy sidewalk of
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It was a windy day. The mailman barely made it to the front door. When the door opened‚ Mrs. Pennington said‚ "hello"‚ but‚ before she had a real chance to say "thank you"‚ the mail blew out of the mailman’s hands‚ into the house and the front door slammed in his face. Mrs. Pennington ran to pick up the mail. "Oh my‚" she said. Tommy was watching the shutters open and then shut‚ open and then shut. "Mom‚" he said‚ "may I go outside?" "Be careful‚" she said
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blank screen like glittering water pulled down a drain. Around him‚ the house seemed to sigh‚ as all its lights and little engines‚ its computerized timers and indicators‚ simultaneously shut down. The sound of wind and rain lashing the trees outside infiltrated the silence. A beam creaked. A loose shutter banged. The drip from a plugged gutter tapped heavily‚ like a bully nagging for attention‚ on the wooden cover of a cellar-window well. The lines bringing the Morrises’ house electricity and
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