I have to write a gothic story for my literature class, and I was hoping you guys could tell me if I did a good job of writting a gothic story. I’d like you to be specific when it comes to gothic imagery, if you could.
It all began when someone left the window open. A cold winter wind shook the curtains, and Sharon stared down at him from the space created by the movement of the drapes. He just stood there, not concerned with the cold or the wind – his eyes fixated on the house, yet where on the house she couldn’t determine. His gaze was solid enough to seemingly pierce the outer walls, yet she couldn’t decide what exactly he was looking at, or for. The curtains continuously intercepted them from locking eyes. He wore a fedora with the brim turned down on all sides, adorning a cape that covered his shoulders and the front of his body. His hands at his sides, almost one with his clothing, he looked oddly ordinary; so much so that he looked almost abnormal. Sharon was intrigued, “What is he doing?” she wonders. The curtain blows into her face, and when she looks again, the man has disappeared.
She sits on her bed. Unable to focus on anything but the mysterious man standing in her backyard, she grabs a coat and steps outside to investigate. The moon shone down onto the tree laden back yard, the snow covering every inch of the ground. The only light that could be seen trickled through the tree tops off of a quarter moon and a small number of stars. The snow was only a few inches thick, not very packed. With each step into the dark cluster of trees, her feet sank only mildly into the cold. The forest was dark; the winter snow had destroyed all concept of floral life – leaving the trees with decaying branches weighed down with the weight of the frozen snow; dead as the air, which was stagnant with a lack of sound until the branches beneath her feet began to break with each step. Cautiously looking around, Sharon couldn’t believe what she was doing. Here she was, in the dead of night, the freezing cold, searching for a prowler. With every step, branches broke, ending the momentary silence with a crunch. Stopping to warm her hands, Sharon could swear that in the distance she heard footsteps in the area around her. She couldn’t place the location of the sounds though, and her attention was quickly diverted to a number of swift movements in the trees above her. Her eyes darting from spot to spot, as what few leaves on the trees flutter ever so slightly. Her heart begins to beat a little quicker, the situation ever so eerie. “What am I doing?” she wonders aloud, yet her curiosity kills her reason, and she presses on.
The sounds continue. The sounds sync with her steps; she stops, they stop, she starts, they start. The fluttering of the leaves had escalated to ravens taking flight with her every step. The woods had become thick now, no longer was she strolling – she was fighting natures barriers. Her focus shifted from listening to sounds to avoiding low branches. Once again stopping to warm her hands, she noticed a breathing that was not her own. With a quick motion, she spins her head round to the space behind her to see the cloaked man standing behind her. His head tilted down, with the brim of his hat hiding his face. His cold breath emanated from beneath his cover. Sharon stood, her heart beating out of her chest, racing with every breath the man took.
She was frozen with fright, unsure if the man would attack her or…
And with that thought the man fled. Disappearing into the night, somewhere amongst the darkness, within the forest. The sound of his feet wrecking the numerous became oblivious to the sound of her heart beating in her ears. She fell to her knees, bewildered by the encounter. The cold quickly got to her, and all she could think of was being back in her room, wrapped in blankets and listening to soothing music while drifting off to sleep. Sharon jumped to her feet and begins to sprint home. All the way – through the dense brush, nothing could stop her from reaching her front porch and dead bolting the front door. The wind howled into her ears as she almost jumped through the forest.
Finally emerging from the forest, she finds herself in her own back yard. Comforted by the familiar scenery and the knowledge that it was over, she was home. She pauses; puts her hands on her knees and bends over gasping for air. Trying to find solace in her calamity, she gazes into the open window of her room. Except that it is no longer open, but it’s closed… and to her horror, there stood the man from the woods. In her house, in her room, looking down at her just as she had done not long ago. His hat was off, and he was an elderly white man, with thin receded gray hair. Confused and enraged that this stranger would violate her home with his presence, Sharon dashes to her porch, and opens the front door.
The hospital room is like any other, white in a monotone sort of way, discolored only by pale green shower curtains that separate one patient from the other. Doctor Rowland stands at the foot of the bed making notations on her medical chart when a nurse walks in with a tray holding numerous small cups with pills in them, each with a piece of masking tape inscribed with a name. She glances at the woman on the bed, and then looks to the doctor with questioning eyes. “Will she ever recover?” Doctor Rowland doesn’t look up from his chart. “I don’t know. Comatose patients are very unpredictable. She has been out for quite some time, and we still haven’t gotten a hold of any next of kin. She’s lucky they managed to pull her out of that car. I hear the eighteen wheeler did quite a number on her little beetle.” The nurse just blankly stared at the woman on the bed. “What do you think she’s going through Doctor?” Rowland closes the chart and replaces it to it’s hanger on the foot of the bed. “A number of comatose patients remember having dreams. Often times, it is the same dream that loops itself over and over again. Odd dreams, one of the strangest I heard was a man had a dream that just looping itself over and over again. His role in the dream kept getting reversed with that of another character. It just kept going… However this is likely not what happens to everybody.” The doctor removed the glasses from his face and hung them on his chest pocket, and walked out. The nurse sighed and began to administer the medicine. Once she was finished, she walked over to the wall opposite that of the door, closed the window, and left.
Thanks.
Some more elaboration would be nice.