The day it happened wasn’t dark and stormy like you read in horror books. That’s why it was such a surprise. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. What a great day, I thought as I walked down my road to my house on that sunny Friday afternoon. As I got closer to my house something looked different. The big window was open, my brother’s music was blaring and our car was gone. That window was never open- my Mum had a theory about it being an entry for burglars. Speaking of Mum – where was her car? She always used to get home at 2 and it had gone 3. And did Daniel even have that music? I thought it was extremely unusual but i still carried on walking down my front drive. I wish I hadn’t. I should have turned and run there and then. As I opened the door the stench entered my nose and filled my body with the putrid smell of what smelt like rotting corpses. I could scarcely breathe; the air was so thick because of that disgusting scent. The scent that will never leave my nose for the rest of my life.
“Mum!”I shouted up the stairs. “Dad! Dan!” No answer. I was petrified. What could have happened? I was beginning to imagine the worst. I was about to find out. I threw my bags down onto the hall floor. I took my first step and crept up the stairs. I remember the smell being even worse up there. “Mum?” I whispered. Tears were beginning to gather in my eyes. As I got to my brothers room, the first across the hall I saw that the door was slightly open. My hand was sweating as I reached for the handle. I opened the door and entered the room and there he was. Asleep facing the wall. “Dan! Will you turn that music down?” I remember saying as I rushed across the room and turned down the stereo. “It really stinks in here. And where are mum and dad?” he remained still and silent. It was like he wasn’t even breathing. I was right. “Dan!”. There was still no reply. I grew angry. I walked sternly across the room grabbed his shoulder and turned him so he would face me. Nothing could of prepared me for what I saw. My brother. Dead.
"The catcher in the rye" written by J. D. Salinger Holden Caulfield tells his story from a rest home where he has been staying ever since he had his nervous breakdown. The reader immediately senses his rebellious nature when he says that he will not tell about his "lousy" childhood and "all that David Copperfield kind of crap." Instead he describes his parents as -- they are nice, but "touchy as ...
His neck was slit, blood pouring out and running down onto the bed covering it with a red puddle. I screamed a ghastly groundbreaking scream right from my gut. I remember falling backwards against the wall, crying my eyes out and gasping for air. “I am so, so sorry.” I said in-between deep breaths which however hard i tried i couldn’t catch. His eyes were open but it couldn’t see his iris’ or pupils – he looked like a zombie. His face had deep cuts all over it like someone had slashed him with a knife. His mouth was open, smeared with vomit and blood. To make matters worse the blood was seeping through the bed and was dripping from underneath forming a puddle under the bed. I could see his blood drenched clothes – his pyjamas- the ones he wore to bed the night before. He had been like that all day.