Scratching On The Back Door example essay topic

One obscure, lonely night, my mom leaves in a silver Lexus for a night shift at Herman Hospital. I am home alone; nestled in my blanket, watching "Scream 3". Bravely, I stand up to grab a glass of ice-cold water. Finally, the horror movie comes to a close. I hit the rewind button, turn off the lights and manage my way into bed. Hitting me like a bolt of lightning, I hear the phone ring.

Panting, I manage to say, "Hello", but to my surprise there is no reply. I creep back into bed unaware of the danger that might startle me again. I commence to fall asleep in a trance, but I awake by the sound of an earsplitting slam. I am so petrified, that I feel as if I am paralyzed. I peek through my blue, shiny blinds, and am astonished to spot a shadow. Although I have chills running up my spine, I have enough courage to examine the silhouette from a better view.

Now, after staring at it for couple-observing seconds, I get a clear representation of the shadow. I see a petite lady with brown hair and a red, long poncho. In the background, I recognize a parked, black, glistening Cadillac. The petite lady is pounding on my front door. I attempt to open the door. Losing my confidence, I slam the door shut and dart up to my bedroom.

To my misfortune, the thumping on the front door is escalating. To make matters worse, I hear scratching on the back door. A thought of a murder or a serial killer races through my mind. The strident beating and scraping begin to taper off. It is around 3: 00 in the morning, and I wish my mom would be home soon. I am extremely exhausted and hope all the dread is over.

From there, things begin to get shoddier. The next thing I hear is someone's voice by my window. "Let me in, let me in", the elfin lady shrieks. "Leave me alone", I demand. As I attempt to clutch the telephone to reach my mom at work, I realize it is disconnected because of the intensifying storm.

I have nothing else to do, but suffer and wait patiently in horror. As I move stealthily into the attic for protection, I hear a door screech open. The only thing I can think of is whether or not I have locked the front door. I hear the footsteps getting closer and louder towards the attic door.

My heartbeat races as fast as the speed of sound. I hear the lady gradually entering the attic. With a glee of excitement, I recognize a face. As I grasp the pole to pull myself up, I ask the mysterious lady, "What is your name?" The woman replies with a humorous laughter. "Mom?" I respond. "Yes honey, who else will it be?" In relief I gasp to see my mom standing in the murky attic putting up the winter clothes.

I feel so weary after the long night of terror. I still have many questions rambling in my mind, but I put the pieces together and come to a conclusion. First and for most, the petite woman with the red, long poncho on is my mother. Ironically, the scratching on the back door is my dog, Cookie, begging to be let in from the horrible storm.

The black Cadillac is my mom's rental car, since my mom's Lexus is trapped in a gigantic puddle of mud. From this day forward, I do not watch horror movies without my mother.