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The owner of a missing cat is asking for help. “My baby has been missing for over a month now, and I want him back so badly,” said Mrs. Brown, a 56-year-old woman. Mrs. Brown lives by herself in a trailer park near Clovis. She said that Clyde, her 7-year-old cat, didn’t come home for dinner more than a month ago. The next morning he didn’t appear for breakfast either. After Clyde missed an extra-special lunch, she called the police.

When the policeman asked her to describe Clyde, she told him that Clyde had beautiful green eyes, had all his teeth but was missing half of his left ear, and was seven years old and completely white. She then told the officer that Clyde was about a foot high.
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Bu yazıyla ilgisi olabilecek diğer yazılar:

• Hansel and Gretel
• The Drop of Water
• Haunting In The Woods
• Beyond the Wall
• A Haunted House

It was 80 degrees in the shade. A man wearing a heavy army jacket, a pullover wool cap, and dark sunglasses walked into the First American Bank at the corner of Maple and Main streets in downtown Short Beach.

The man walked up to the teller and held up a hand grenade for all to see. He said, “Give me all your money, all the money in this bank, right now!”
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Bu yazıyla ilgisi olabilecek diğer yazılar:

• Hansel and Gretel
• The Drop of Water
• Haunting In The Woods
• Beyond the Wall
• A Haunted House

The Tell-Tale Heart By Edgar Allan Poe

True!—nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am! but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses—not destroyed—not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily—how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to tell how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture—a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees—very gradually—I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
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Bu yazıyla ilgisi olabilecek diğer yazılar:

• Hansel and Gretel
• The Drop of Water
• Haunting In The Woods
• Beyond the Wall
• A Haunted House

The Thief by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Translated by Lizzie B. Gorin

One morning, just as I was about to leave for my place of employment, Agrafena (my cook, laundress, and housekeeper all in one person) entered my room, and, to my great astonishment, started a conversation.

She was a quiet, simple-minded woman, who during the whole six years of her stay with me had never spoken more than two or three words daily, and that in reference to my dinner — at least, I had never heard her.

“I have come to you, sir,” she suddenly began, “about the renting out of the little spare room.”

“What spare room?”

“The one that is near the kitchen, of course; which should it be?”

“Why?”

“Why do people generally take lodgers? Because.”

“But who will take it?”
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Bu yazıyla ilgisi olabilecek diğer yazılar:

• Hansel and Gretel
• The Drop of Water
• Haunting In The Woods
• Beyond the Wall
• A Haunted House

James Joyce – Araby

North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers’ School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces.

The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant, and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes, under one of which I found the late tenant’s rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister.
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Bu yazıyla ilgisi olabilecek diğer yazılar:

• Hansel and Gretel
• The Drop of Water
• Haunting In The Woods
• Beyond the Wall
• A Haunted House