FREE POINTS TELL MEH A SCARY STORY

"wait, where did you get that?"

I said as I turned to face sarah. She had just been sitting there, looking into this hole. Her eyes were darker than the depths of the hole she had been staring into. "hm? oh... this.. nothing really" she was still looking at the hole, holding what looks to be mother. "That can't be her right? Tell me your joking!" I had enough, I ran to sarah and grabbed her shoulders to face me when her face-

the end bahahahahahaha

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

alright i will show you where to find the answers but only number six is missing i hope this will you and others

step one open a new page and type in:

1.13 graded assignment: write an evaluation of an argument

then click on the first one you see

second once on the page scroll down then behold the answers.

explanatithe story "two kinds" , revolves around a strict relationship between a mother and daughter. the mother tries very hard to make sure her daughter jing mei , is successful in life and lives up to her full potential. the story explores alot of different themes. though , there is one theme that really stands out. you cant force someone to be something that their not.

jing mei's mother was an immagrant from china. she moved to the united states to give her daughter , jing mei , a better and successful life for her. and being raised in china with their strict rules and striving to be perfect took a toll on her and her daughters relationship. she pressures her daughter to be great and perfect all the time but it gets really hard for her to live up to her mothers standards. her mother believes that jing mei can be a child prodigy and prepares her to be and act like one. furthermore , the story ends with jing mei getting everything off her chest and seeing the dissappointment in her mothers eyes as she finds out her daughter has not lived up to her full potential. and her mother has finally gained an understanding of her daughter.

tbh ur lucky i answered because you only gave 5 points. it should have been like 50.