Creative writing narrative text that relates to change and carries hints of the Gothic genre

Essay by noobervescenceHigh School, 11th gradeA+, May 2007

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Arising from a restless slumber, I slowly edged out of my cushioned davenport venturing forth into the aphotic corridors barely illuminated by the light of a crescent moon. Faint shadows of familiar objects stained the beige walls, malevolent phantasms, once twisted by my cruel and terrified imagination. I crept through the narrow passages, perceiving each creak of the floorboards; the sound of my own heartbeat seemingly deafening in the enclosed space.

Stealthily, I stole through the tenebrous twilight, eluding non-existent monstrosities and creatures of the night, always advancing closer to my destination. Weaving and slashing, my mind conjured aberrations which hindered my journey. My breath ran short as I attempted to defend myself against the countless miscreations that haunted my thoughts. I was fighting an unwinnable battle, slowly being backed into a corner, outnumbered and outpowered.

With the last vestiges of strength available to me I slowly reached behind myself and up, hoping that I would reach what I was looking for.

My hand felt the reassuring touch of the light-switch as I flicked it on, the ethereal brilliance vanquishing the stygian forces that had smothered me only moments ago. The fear dissipated and I relaxed having completed my undertaking.

Many years later I lie in a stark hospital bed, bleached walls reflecting the starkness that time had reduced me to. There was no adventure, only the dull pain across my chest that let me know I was still alive. I was clutching at straws, the odds overwhelming. Having being scared of dark all my life, a sharp irony stung me then. “Stage 4 melanoma,” the doctor had said. “No hope, barely six months to live.”Yet my family had never given up. I continued the fight to survive for them, having lost my own will to live I struggled...