Human Developmental Theories Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

Human Developmental Theories - Essay Example Mental analysts have significantly examined all the ascribed of human life that lead to sustain and advancement of human brain science. Subsequently, different speculations have been started, for example, reductionism, meditational, determinism, contextualism and so forth. Therapists have separated such speculations into specific classes (Barkway 2009, p. 21). Determinism is a hypothetical methodology for clinicians to assess human brain research which is unfaltering over the time in association with the past encounters. Analysts assess human brain research by survey the previous history of kid. Sigmund Freud recommended that there are sure examples that could be considered while actualizing the hypothesis of determinism (Barkway 2009, p. 21). Such viewpoints incorporate parental history since it significantly influences a child’s advancement in the time of youthfulness. Parent history has a great deal in connection with the kid advancement as guardians will in general be dependable of kid support process in each general public. Besides, the historical backdrop of conduct could be a significant perspective in understanding human mental turn of events (Barkway 2009, p. 22). Clinical ramifications of deterministic hypothesis on medicinal services practice is the best method to support patients. Deterministic hypothesis can be applied on youngsters as it examines the occasions that occurred in the life of a kid. Certain inquiries could be effortlessly replied with the ramifications of deterministic methodology for social insurance practice.

Network Hardening

System Hardening Unit 8 Assignment 1 It is imperative to experience the way toward solidifying. Solidifying is the place you change the equipment and programming arrangements to make PCs and gadgets as secure as could be expected under the circumstances. I picked the system format 1-the workgroup . First with the workstations and PCs you have to close down the unneeded administrations or programs or even uninstall them. I would likewise have some great enemy of infection programming on the workstations. You additionally need a solidified picture for the entirety of your workstations.To do this you have to introduce another duplicate of the working framework and afterward solidify it. After you have one great solidified workstation you can utilize it as a model for every single other workstation and furthermore PCs. For the switch you certainly need to shield it from unapproved get to. The switch should be secret phrase ensured and you ought to intermittently change that secret key. F or the link modem you should keep every undesirable port shut. I would likewise plan a customary sweep of the considerable number of frameworks. Presently for a portion of these next things I am discussing they will apply to all gadgets .Disable remote organization. Organization of your switch/passageway ought to be â€Å"local only†, to be specific, there is no motivation to let individuals from another nation access to your system equipment. On the off chance that you have to make transforms, you ought to be nearby to the gadget. Update the firmware. In all honesty, buyer arrange equipment should be fixed moreover. Check the help site of the merchant of the gadget when you get it and check for an update. Pursue email cautions for refreshes, if accessible, or return all the time for refreshes.

Best Tips on Writing a Visual Analysis Essay

Best Tips on Writing a Visual Analysis Essay Writing a standard essay is not an easy job, and creating a visual analysis essay can make students frustrated because this type of work is different from usual essays you used to write. This essay requires the analysis of any kind of visual information, such as portrait, painting, or any other type of artistic object. Without knowing right methods and approaches, its impossible to make a successful paper. Thats why before writing it is so important to learn the principles of creating this work. We have gathered all important tips about a visual analysis writing here. At the very beginning, it may seem very easy to you to make a description of a picture or a photo. Usually, students start this work with enthusiasm, but later they face problems and struggle with writing. We are here to help you! Read this detailed and simple visual analysis essay writing guide, and make a strong and successful paper easily and fast! What is the goal and types of this essay? As we already said, this type of work may describe any subject. With this work, the author describes an image or photo and analyses the way its made. The visual analysis also provides the readers with the meaning that the certain image brings. If it goes about history art, the work may evaluate the meaning of this image for the current time, and also consider the historical meaning. In general, this essay may be written about many things, including painting, photograph, artwork, sculpture, advertisement, or political cartoon. How to write a visual analysis essay of an images When you are required to describe an image, you have to mention the artists name, painting title, date of creating, and size. In this paper, you will have to mention details about a theme, background, subject, and also write down ideas you got from viewing the image. Dont forget to concentrate your attention on another point such as symmetry, shapes, style, etc. Creating a sculptures visual analysis A description of any kind of sculpture requires information about its title, the artists name, date and place of creating, and the dimensions of the object. You also have to mention if this sculpture is representational or abstract with an explanation of this opinion. Include information about color, light, lines, depth, and space. Making an analysis of photo image When you analyze a photo, its almost the same as making a description of the image. You just have to write about details, including lighting, texture, colors, dimensions, etc. Mention what emotions you feel while viewing the certain photo, and share your own opinion with readers. Creating a visual analysis of a political cartoon If you need to write an analysis of this piece, first of all you have to pay attention at the main idea of the cartoon. Dont forget to point on symbols, labeling, analogy, irony, and exaggeration â€" these are things that often used in such cartoons. Define the main goal the cartoonist wanted to give to watchers. Express your own opinion and thoughts about the cartoon. How to write a visual analysis paper on an advertisement While making an analysis of an advertisement, first of all, you need to present the product or service of ad to readers. Then provide background information about the advertisement. Define the audience this ad was made for, analyze the people reaction, and end your paper with your own opinion about the certain advertisement. Building a proper structure of visual analysis paper If you have written some essays before, you need to remember that its quite important to structure your work properly. Your paper should be well-structured, so the readers will understand it much better. Make sure your essay contains next three parts: Introduction for visual analysis essay â€" in this paragraph you present the object of your analysis to readers, explaining the purpose of the artist. Here you may tell how and when the object was created. Remember that you should put a thesis statement that tells the readers about the meaning of the piece. Body part â€" here you have to support a thesis statement with main ideas. Describe all characteristics of an object you analyze, including genre, style, size, composition, colors, etc. Conclusion â€" this is a final part of your paper, and we suggest writing here the following things: 1) You may compare the object to other similar works of art; 2) You can suggest how this object of art fits into the artists works, or a company, or the ad campaign; 3) Compare what reaction people got from the piece when they saw it first with a reaction of people today. Here you can also bring your own thoughts, impressions, ideas. Step-by-step instruction how to write a visual analysis essay Here we want to share a detailed instruction that will help you to make a strong and interesting paper. Choose a subject for your future paper. Describe an object. Pay your attention at its shapes, color, shades, background, foreground, place or people it shows, and other elements you can see. This is a very important step in creating your future paper. Respond to the object. Write about your first reaction, and how you feel observing the piece. Maybe this object reminded you of something? You need to describe your reaction here. Analyze the object. If you want to know how to write a visual analysis paper, here you have to define the artists purpose. Explain why he or she made this object of art? What was the aim of creating an object? Try to give an explanation to the readers why this object was made and what kind of emotions and feelings the artist wanted people to have. Create an outline. This step that will help you to create a clear paper without forgetting or missing anything. Put a lot of details into your plan, and it will be much easier for you to write a logical and interesting essay. Make a thesis statement. Put the man idea of understanding an object into a thesis (meaning of the object of your analysis). Write down the first draft of your essay according to the outline. Take your time, and dont try to concentrate on errors, you will have time for it, too. Concentrate on the content of your paper. Revise your work and rewrite it as many times as you need. Make sure you didnt jump from one thing to another suddenly, and all paper sounds smooth. Re-read a final version of your paper to find and correct mistakes. We suggest using online software to check the grammar. Read your essay aloud to hear how it sounds, plus it is a great way to find and correct logical mistakes. If you are not sure that you have found all errors, ask your friend, parent or relative to read the paper and make some corrections. Useful tips how to write a strong visual analysis essay We want to provide you with more information about creating a bright paper. Get some more good tips for describing an image: Its not so hard to analyze images as it may seem to you. Its important to see some tricks the artists used to get the certain reaction from people. For example, the most important objects are usually light and big, while the less important things will be found smaller, darker or put in the background of the picture. You also can analyze colors: blue usually means relaxation, green symbolizes nature, and red color always means passion, danger, or blood. Try to look closely at the picture. Try to understand why the artist composed it this way and how he or she created a message to tell people through the work. Describe a picture carefully, item by item, step by step, and eventually it will bring you to the most important thought of the entire piece of art. Dont make research and trust only your eyes. We suggest putting your own feelings and impressions you have got from this picture. Of course, you may search for this image on Internet and read other people opinion, but its better not to get into research when writing this type of essay. You can be influenced by another persons opinion, so the entire paper would be based not on your own impressions. Try to find and read some strong examples of a visual analysis essay. We dont mean to copy those papers! But you may learn a lot of things observing how other people describe various objects in their papers. Its always something new to learn in each great essay example! We hope that you got many good ideas how to write a good visual analysis essay with our little help. Needless to say this type of writing requires a lot of patience, time, experience, and skills. Use all information we shared here, and create a successful paper to impress your audience!

Rhetorical Analysis Us And Them - 1668 Words

Rhetorical Analysis: Us and Them David Sedaris claim in his essay Us and Them is inferred from its content to be that those who are privileged tend to mistreat the less fortunate. They also judge the lifestyles of others whom they may demarcate as different while ignoring their own faults and imperfections while at the same time refusing to accept other people s cultures and ways of life into our own or deeming others inferior. The fundamental message that the author is trying to convey through this anecdote is ultimately â€Å"tolerance.† The author published this collection of essays in 2004, when he was approximately at the developed age of 47 years old. The essay can be seen as a nostalgic reflection back to his past, to one of the many worthwhile, valuable, and subtle lessons taught to him by his mother. The author perhaps wrote this specific essay to act as a catalyst for the audience to realize the larger injustices that happen to people around the world like the level of severity in poverty that exi sts in both undeveloped countries around the world and the ignored corners of our own backyards as a result of the greed and imperialism of capitalist nations and their consumerist ideals. The publishing of this book roughly coincides with the opening of hostilities when the United States invaded Iraq in 2003. David Sedaris purpose in writing this essay is to force his audience to in turn look at and analyze themselves just as he did in his own narrative, and recognizeShow MoreRelatedRhetorical Analysis Of Rhetorical And Rhetorical Analysis1188 Words   |  5 Pages1. Rhetorical Analysis is the careful examination of texts, videos, and images to understand how they function in conveying their message. The definition of rhetorical analysis will help me better understand what I should be looking for when I receive a text, as rhetorical analysis is different than literary analysis. Therefore, the devices for each are also different (Lunsford et al. 88). 2. Intended audience is the initial step to any rhetorical analysis. If you are unable to identify an audienceRead MoreI Am A Foreign, Learning A Language, And An Argumentative Essay988 Words   |  4 Pagescollege years and the future. Throughout the semester, I have written a plethora of essays such as a rhetorical analysis, comparative review, annotated bibliography, exploratory, and an argumentative essay. Since it is my first time writing these types of essays, I struggled at first trying to figure out how to start the essays; however, our professor assisted us and showed us sample essays that help us write our essays. I’ am very thankful that i managed to take this course because i have learned aRead MoreCritical Reading And Writing Course995 Words   |  4 PagesWriting course. I did not know anything about rhetoric before entering the class and I now feel that I have a good grasp on it. I still struggle a bit remembering some of the rhetorical terms, but I am way mor e comfortable and familiar with them now. In high school I never really summarized pieces, instead I would quote them. I now feel confident in my abilities to summarize and paraphrase accurately which is a really useful skill to have. Before this course I knew how to use research databases andRead MoreHow Rhetoric Is Required For Every College Student1566 Words   |  7 PagesUnderstanding how to use rhetoric is required for every college student in order for them to write an academic essay. In college writing, many professors wants us, as students, to actually write a college paper, not an informal paper that may be accepted in high school. de the reader feel that we know what we need to write and how to write rhetorical awareness is important for multilingual writer. Because The instructor want us to be able use our own knowledge and demonstrate our own skills while writingRead MoreRhetorical Analysis Of Rhetorical Analysis1675 Words   |  7 PagesRhetorical analysis is the way we could communicate effectively by understanding the content, in which to lead us to achieve our goals. According to an article, rhetorical analysis â€Å"is the form of criticism that employs the principles of rhetoric†. It is also a practice of effective communication by using the language of art and media to achieve specific goals. The components I will use in a rhetorical analysis are introduction, rhetorical situation, rhetorical appeals and a conclusion. In this rhetoricalRead MoreRhetorical Analysis: the Challenger Address 720 Words   |  3 PagesRhetorical Analysis: â€Å"The Challenger Address† The rhetorical situation refers to â€Å"a situation in which people’s understanding can be changed through messages.† (Zarefsky, 12). The rhetorical situation analysis consists of four elements: audience, occasion, speaker and speech, each assessing the quality of speech. In this essay, I will analyze the rhetorical situation of the historical speech â€Å"The Challenger Address† delivered by the 40th president of the United States, Ronald Reagan. AmericansRead MoreRhetorical Analysis Of Letter From Birmingham Jail1052 Words   |  5 PagesHow serious the racial discrimination is? A Rhetorical Analysis of Letter From Birmingham Jail It is known to all that Martin Luther King is a famous person in America, who strongly goes against the racial discrimination all the time. Here, in this letter, Letter from Birmingham Jail, it is easy for us to realize that racial discrimination appears and the non-violence action is still serious at that time. As a matter of fact, this letter is coming from the people in the Birmingham jail, stating theirRead MoreEssay about Rhetorical Analysis: â€Å"the Challenger Address†704 Words   |  3 PagesRhetorical Analysis: â€Å"The Challenger Address† The rhetorical situation refers to â€Å"a situation in which people’s understanding can be changed through messages.† (Zarefsky, 12). The rhetorical situation analysis consists of four elements: audience, occasion, speaker and speech, each assessing the quality of speech. In this essay, I will analyze the rhetorical situation of the historical speech â€Å"The Challenger Address† delivered by the 40th president of the United States, Ronald Reagan. AmericansRead MoreCritical Thinking Skill At Me My Professor948 Words   |  4 PagesI struggled with different writing skills such as, understanding the process of writing, analyzing reading selection and applying basic critical thinking skill in an argumentative essay. I also struggled with the analysis of specific content in professional writing, identifying rhetorical strategies and synthesising concepts from references. Lucky for me my professor was very skilled and provided me with numerous activities and assignments that helped me improve my writing. Writing isRead MoreHow College Composition Has Helped Me Grow Tremendously As A Writer1456 Words   |  6 PagesI made huge global revisions like re-writing my entire introduction and conclusion or even moving paragraphs to different sections of the paper to help them make more sense to the reader. I’ve also learned from feedback that the amount of research and work you put into the paper is shown clearly to the reader. Writing so many rhetorical analysis papers has to me how to be critical as well as skeptical. Before this course I had no problem accepting most of the things I read to be true. Now, through

Classical Conditioning Vs. Operant Conditioning Essay

1. a) Define Classical Conditioning and Behaviorism. b) Identify the two major characteristics that distinguish classical conditioning from operant conditioning. Classical Conditioning is a type of learning process of an individual when they come in contact with certain stimuli. According to Pavlov, a Russian psychologist, he developed several experiments on learning and he discovered that classical condition is the basic form of learning for an individual. However, according to Pavlov, behaviorism is the view that psychology should be the main objective science that studies behavior without including mental processes of an individual in the investigation. Behaviorism is more about the person’s behavior and how they were influenced to act a certain why, including their surroundings. Thus, from this learning process many behaviorist believes that the basic laws of learning are similar for all different species, including humans. Furthermore, the two major characteristics that distinguish classical conditioning from operant conditioning is that in classical conditioning, an unconditioned response is an event that happens naturally in res ponse to some stimuli such as salivation. Another characteristic is an unconditioned stimuli, which is a process where an individual naturally discovers something without learning the process and reacts to the unlearned response, For instance, when someone put food in there mouth this causes salivation. A conditioned stimuli in classicalShow MoreRelatedOperant Vs. Classical Conditioning1211 Words   |  5 PagesOperant and Classical Conditioning Tiara Gordon PS 210 Professor Rivera Introduction Operant and Classical conditioning reminds me of the famous controversy, nature vs nurture. It’s like having a pessimistic or optimistic view on learning techniques and how much of the environment or genes influence the two. These learned behaviors have been scrutinized by people alike, some have debated that everything we do from the time we wake up to the time we go to sleep is operant conditioningRead MorePavlov s Classical Conditioning Vs. Operant Conditioning1172 Words   |  5 PagesPavlov’s Classical Conditioning vs. B.F. Skinner’s Operant Conditioning Bhavika D. Patel Atlantic Community College Abstract Ivan Pavlov and B.F. Skinner both studied learning, in which they both did different experiments on different animals and with different conditioning. Classical conditioning is the process in which two stimuli become linked; once this association has been recognized, an originally neutral stimulus is conditioned to provoke an involuntary response. The dogs in Pavlov’s studiesRead MoreClassical Vs. Operant Conditioning1582 Words   |  7 PagesClassical and Operant Conditioning Ivan Pavlov once said, Don t become a mere recorder of facts, but try to penetrate the mystery of their origin.† Often times in the fast pace world that college students live today many get so caught up in sheer memorization of everything that comes their way just to pass with that sought-after A. What is often looked past is the true meaning of concepts and ideas to retain the information needed for success. It was this very mindset instilled with in greatRead MoreClassical Vs. Operant Conditioning1072 Words   |  5 Pages PsychSim 5: OPERANT CONDITIONING Name: Melissa Mallay Section: 130-01 Date: February 25, 2015 Classical Versus Operant Conditioning †¢ What is the distinction between classical and operant conditioning? In Operant conditioning, subjects learn from experiences and create a relationship between behavior and consequences. As a result, when actions are provided with a favorable result, they are reproduced. Likewise, unfavorable actions are not reproduced because the subject operates inRead MoreLearning and Development Theories939 Words   |  4 Pagesexplaining the development of individuals. Classical and Operant Conditioning: One of the most important learning theories is classical conditioning that was discovered by Ivan Pavlov, a Russian physiologist who discovered the phenomenon while conducting analysis on digestion. Classical conditioning basically refers to the automatic or effortless reaction to stimuli and is commonly known as respondent or Pavlovian conditioning. This type of conditioning takes place when animals learn to relate thingsRead MoreThe Process of Conditioning963 Words   |  4 PagesFlorida Sahay Professor Griffin Psychology 1101 Fall 2009 The Conditioning Process It was raining when Sarah was driving home from work. Both she and the driver of the car in front of her were speeding. The car in front of her had immediately braked. There was not enough distance between that car and her own car to safely slow to a stop, so she had quickly switched lanes to avoid a car accident. Instead, the slick pavement caused her car to swerve out of control. When her car finallyRead MorePsychological Conditioning and Theories of Behavior1013 Words   |  4 Pagesresearching the digestive systems of dogs and led him to the discovery of classical condition, a way to modify behaviors using conditioned responses. Pavlovs views intrigued American John Watson, who pushed the idea forward in up through the 1950s. Building on these theories, but amending the model with the effects of punishment and reward, B.F. Skinners work had a revolutionary effect on behaviorism, now called operant conditioning (Shiraev, 2010, pp. 246-54). Learning Theory- Some say a logical reactionRead MoreBowlby s Theory Of Attachment1255 Words   |  6 Pages(Bruno et al., 2014) Pavlov and Skinner are two other theorists with views on behaviours which can be applied to attachment. Pavlov’s theory is that of classical conditioning which focuses on involuntary behaviours. While Skinner’s theory of operant conditioning focuses on voluntary behaviours. (Cherry, no date) Pavlov’s theory of classical conditioning is that an unconditioned stimulus will trigger an unconditioned response. The unconditioned stimulus in attachment is the milk and the unconditionedRead MoreEssay on connecting the dots608 Words   |  3 Pages Define classical and operant conditioning. Classical conditioning is: the learning that takes place based on an association of stimulus that does not elicit a response with another stimulus that does elicit a response. Operant conditioning is:a process in which a response is gradually learned via reinforcement or punishment. How are they the same? They are the same because they are both are gradual process. How are they different? They are different because in Classical conditioning stimulusRead MoreThere Are Many Types Of Conditioning That People Used To1427 Words   |  6 PagesThere are many types of conditioning that people used to learn things. The first type of condition that we talk about in this paper is classical condition. The second type of conditioning is called operant conditioning. And the last type of conditioning is vicarious conditioning / Observational Learning. These are the 3 main types of conditioning that we use in are daily life. Classical Conditioning Classical conditioning is one of the most basic forms of learning that we use today. You can see it

Stefan’s Diaries Bloodlust Chapter 8~9 Free Essays

Chapter 8 October 4, 1864 As a human, I’d thought it was my mother’s death that had shaped the men Damon and I would become. I’d called myself a half-orphan in the initial days after she died, locking myself away in my room, feeling as though my life had ended at the young age of ten. Father believed grieving was weak and unmanly, so Damon had been the one to comfort me. We will write a custom essay sample on Stefan’s Diaries: Bloodlust Chapter 8~9 or any similar topic only for you Order Now He’d go riding with me, let me join the older boys in their games, and beat up the Giffin brothers when they made fun of me for crying about Mother during a baseball game. Damon had always been the strong one, my protector. But I was wrong. It is my own death that has shaped me. Now the tables have turned. I am the strong one, and I have been trying to be Damon’s protector. But while I have always been grateful to Damon, he despises me and blames me for what he has become. I had forced him to feed from Alice, a bartender at the local tavern, which had completed his transformation. But does that make me a villain? I think not, especially as the act had saved his life. Finally, I see Damon the way Father had seen him: too imperious, too willful, too quick to make up his mind, and too slow to change it. And as I had also realized earlier this evening as I stood just outside the dim glare of the gas lamp, the body of the dead nurse at my feet: I am alone. A full orphan. Just as Katherine had presented herself when she came to Mystic Falls and stayed in our guesthouse. So that’s how vampires do it, then. They exploit vulnerability, get humans to trust them, and then, when all the emotions are firmly in place, they attack. So that is what I will do. I know not how or who my next victim will be, but I know, more than ever, that the only person I can look out for and protect is myself. Damon is on his own, and so am I. I heard Damon steal through the city, moving at vampire speed down the streets and alleys. At one point, he paused, whispering Katherines name over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer. Then, nothing Was he dead? Had he drowned himself? Or was he simply too far away for me to hear him? Either way, the result was the same. I was alone–Id lost my only connection to the man Id once been: Stefan Salvatore, the dutiful son, the lover of poetry, the man who stood up for what was right. I wondered if that meant that Stefan Salvatore, with no one to remember him, was really, truly dead, leaving me to be anyone. I could move to a different city every year, see the whole world. I could assume as many identities as Id like. I could be a Union soldier. I could be an Italian businessman. I could even be Damon. The sun plunged past the horizon like a cannonball falling to earth, dipping the city into darkness. I turned from one gaslit street to the next, the soles of my boots rasping over the gravelly cobblestones. A loose newspaper blew toward me. I stomped on the broadsheet, examining an etched photo of a girl with long, dark hair and pale eyes. She looked vaguely familiar. I wondered if she was a relative of one of the Mystic Falls girls. Or perhaps a nameless cousin whod attended barbecues at Veritas. But then I saw the headline:BRUTAL MURDER ABOARD THE ATLANTIC EXPRESS. Lavinia. Of course. Id already forgotten her. I reached down and crumpled the paper, hurling it as far as I could into the Mississippi. The surface of the water was muddy and turbulent, dappled with moonlight. I couldnt see my reflection–couldnt see anything but an abyss of blackness as deep and dark as my new future. Could I go for eternity, feeding, killing, forgetting, then repeating the cycle? Yes. Every instinct and impulse I had screamedyes. The triumph of closing in on my prey, touching my canines to the paper-thin skin that covered their necks, hearing their hearts slow to a dull thud and feeling a body go limp in my arms. Hunting and feeding made me feel alive, whole; they gave me a purpose in the world. It was, after all, the natural order of things. Animals killed weaker animals. Humans killed animals. I killed humans. Every species had their foe. I shuddered to think what monster was powerful enough to hunt me. The salty breeze wafting from the water was laced with the odor of unwashed bodies and rotting food–a far cry from the aroma across town, where scents of floral perfume and talcum powder hung heavy in the air of the wide streets. Here shadows hugged every corner, whispers rose and fell with the flowing of the river, and drunken hiccups pierced the air. It was dark, here. Dangerous. I quite liked it. I turned a corner, following my nose like a bloodhound on the trail of a doe. I flexed my arms, ready for a hunt–a gin-soaked drunk, a soldier, a lady out after dark. The victim didnt matter. I turned again, and the iron-scent of blood came closer. The smell was sweet and smoky. I focused on it, on the anticipation of sinking my fangs into a neck, of wondering whose blood Id be drinking, whose life Id be stealing. I continued to walk, picking up my pace as I traced the scent to an anonymous back street lined with an apothecary, a general store, and a tailor. The street was a replica of our own Main Street back in Mystic Falls. But while wed only had one, New Orleans must have had dozens, if not hundreds, of these corridors of commerce. The rusty smell of iron was stronger now. I followed twists and turns, my hunger building, burning, searing my very skin until finally, finally I came to a squat, peach-colored building. But when I saw the painted sign above the door, I stopped short. Sausages in their casings hung in the buildings grimy window; slabs of cured meat dangled from the ceiling like a grotesque childs mobile; carved ribs were nestled in ice beneath a counter, and in the far back, whole carcasses were strung up, draining blood into large vats. This was a butcher shop? I sighed in frustration but my hunger forced me to push the door open anyway. The iron chain snapped easily, as if it were no sturdier than thread. Once inside, I gazed at the bloodied carcasses, momentarily mesmerized by the blood falling into the vats, one drip at a time. Over the sound of the raining blood, I heard the slightestping, no louder than the twitch of a mouses whiskers. Then came the light shuffle of toes passing over concrete. I reared back, my eyes darting from corner to corner. Mice scuttled beneath the floorboards, and someones watch ticked in the building next door. All else was quiet. But the air around me suddenly felt thicker, and the ceiling lower somehow, and I became acutely aware that there was no back exit in this room of death. â€Å"Who goes there?† I called into the darkness, whirling around, my fangs bared. And then came movement. Fangs, eyes, the thud of footsteps closed in around me from all corners. A low, guttural growl echoed off the bloodstained walls of the shop, and I realized with a sickening jolt that I was surrounded by vampires who looked all too ready to pounce. Chapter 9 I crouched low, my fangs elongated. The heady scent of blood permeated every corner of the room, making my head spin. It was impossible to know where to attack first. The vampires growled again, and I emitted a low snarl in response. The circle closed in tighter around me. There were three of them, and I was caught, like a fish in a net, a deer surrounded by wolves. â€Å"What do you think youre doing?† one of the vampires asked. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a scar that ran the length of his face, from his left eye to the corner of his lip. â€Å"Im one of you,† I said, standing at my full height, fangs on display. â€Å"Oh, hes one of us!† an older vampire said in a sing-songy voice. He wore glasses and a tweed vest over a white-collared shirt. But for the fangs and red-rimmed eyes, he could have been an accountant or a friend of my fathers. I kept my face impassive. â€Å"I have no ill business with you, brothers.† â€Å"We are not your brothers,† said another with tawny hair. He looked not a day over fifteen. His face was smooth, but his green eyes were hard. The older one stepped forward, poking his bony finger against my chest as if it were a wooden stake. â€Å"So, brother, nice evening to dine or die. What do you think?† The young vampire kneeled next to me, gazing into my eyes. â€Å"Looks like hell do both tonight. Lucky boy,† he said, ruffling my hair. I tried to kick him, but my foot simply flopped harmlessly against air. â€Å"No, no, no.† While the scarred vampire watched wordlessly, the boy grabbed my arms and wrenched them so sharply and abruptly behind my back that I gasped. â€Å"Dont be disrespectful. Were your elders. And youve already done quite enough disrespecting already, if Miss Mollys house is any indication.† He drawled her name as if he were a benign, genteel Southern gentleman. Only the steel grip on my limbs betrayed that he wasnt anything of the sort. â€Å"I didnt do anything,† I said, kicking again. If I were to die, then Id die in a fight. â€Å"Are you sure?† he asked, looking down at me in disgust. I attempted to twist away, but still I couldnt budge. The elder vampire chuckled. â€Å"Cant control his urges. Impulsive, this one. Lets give him a taste of his own medicine.† With a flourish, he released me from his grasp, pushing me forward with strength Id never before felt. I hit the plaster wall with a crash and fell on my shoulder, my head cracking against the wooden floorboards. I cowered beneath my attackers, the realization sinking in that if I were to survive this encounter, it would not be by might. â€Å"I didnt mean to do anything. Im sorry,† I said, my voice breaking on the word. â€Å"Do you mean it?† the young vampire asked, a glint in his eye. The sound of wood breaking assaulted my ears. I flinched. Would one vampire stake another? This was not a question I wanted answered the hard way. â€Å"Yes. Yes! I didnt mean to come in here. I didnt know anyone was here. I only just arrived in New Orleans,† I said, scrambling for an excuse. â€Å"Silence!† he commanded, advancing toward me, a jagged piece of wood in his hand. I pressed my spine into the damaged wall. So this is how it would end. With me dying on a makeshift stake, killed by my own kind. Two hands crushed my arms, while another two pinned my ankles together so forcefully that it felt as though I were stuck under boulders. I closed my eyes. An image of Father lying prone on his study floor swam to the forefront of my mind, and I shook my head in agony, remembering his sweating, terrified face. Of course, Id been trying to save him, but he hadnt known that. If he was watching, as an angel or a demon or a mere specter condemned to haunt the world, hed be thrilled to see this scene unfold. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to evoke some other memory to the fore of my mind, one that would take me to another place, another time. But all I could think of were my victims, of the moment when my fangs sliced into their skin, their plaintive wails descending into silence, the blood dripping down my fangs and onto my chin. Soon, all the blood Id taken would be released, seeping out of my own body and back into the Earth, as I was left to die, for real this time, forever, on this wooden floor. â€Å"Enough!† A female voice sliced through the montage in my mind. Immediately, the vampires let go of my hands and feet. My eyes sprang open, and I saw a woman gliding through a narrow wooden door in the back. Her long blond hair descended in a single plait down her back, and she wore mens black pants and suspenders. She was tall, though slight as a child, and all the other vampires shrank away from her in fear. â€Å"You,† she said, kneeling next to me. â€Å"Who are you?† Her amber eyes gazed into mine. They were clear and curious, but there was something about them–the darkness of the pupils, perhaps–that seemed ancient and knowing, which stood in sharp contrast to her rosy-cheeked, unlined face. â€Å"Stefan Salvatore,† I answered her. â€Å"Stefan Salvatore,† she repeated in a perfect Italian accent. Although teasing, her voice didnt seem unkind. She ran a finger gently along my jaw, then placed her palm against my chest and she pressed me against the wall, hard. The suddenness of the movement stunned me, but as I sat, pinned and helpless, she brought her other wrist to her mouth, using her fang to puncture the vein. She dragged her wrist along her teeth, creating a small stream of blood. â€Å"Drink,† she commanded, bringing her wrist to my lips. I did as I was told, managing to get a few drops of the liquid down my throat before she yanked her hand away. â€Å"Thats enough. That should fix your wounds at any rate.† â€Å"He and his brother have been wreaking havoc all over town,† the large vampire said, his makeshift stake pointed at me like a rifle. â€Å"Just me,† I said quickly. â€Å"My brother had no part in it.† Damon would never survive the wrath of these demons. Not in his weakened state. The blond vampire wrinkled her nose as she leaned even closer toward me. â€Å"Youre what, a week old?† she asked, leaning back on her heels. â€Å"Almost two weeks,† I said defiantly, lifting my chin. She nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips, and stood, surveying the shop. The plaster wall was partially caved in, and blood smeared the floor and speckled the walls, as though a child had stood in the center of the room and twirled around with a wet paintbrush. She tsked, and the three male vampires simultaneously took a step back. I shivered. â€Å"Percy, come here, and bring that knife,† she said. With a sigh, the youngest vampire produced a long carving knife from behind his back. â€Å"He wasnt following the rules,† he said petulantly, reminding me of the Giffin boys back home. They were both bullies, always ready to kick a kid in the schoolyard and then turn around and tell a teacher they had nothing to do with it. She took the knife and stared at it, running the pad of her index finger over the gleaming blade. Then she held it back out to Percy. He hesitated a moment, but finally stepped forward to take it. Just then the girls canines elongated and her eyes flushed bloodred. With a growl, she stabbed Percy right in the chest. He fell to his knees, doubled over in silent agony. â€Å"You hunt this vampire for making a scene in town,† she seethed, stabbing the knife in farther, â€Å"and yet you attempt to destroy him in this public space, in this shop? Youre just as foolish as he is.† The young vampire staggered to his feet. Blood streamed down the front of his shirt, as though hed spilled coffee on himself. He grimaced as he pulled the knife out with a sucking sound. â€Å"Im sorry,† he gasped. â€Å"Thank you.† The woman held her wrist toward Percys mouth. Despite her youthful look and apparently violent temper, she also had a mothering quality that the other vampires seemed to accept, as if her stabbings were as normal to them as a light swat would be to a high-spirited child. She turned toward me. â€Å"Im sorry for your troubles, Stefan. Now, can I help you be on your way?† she asked. I looked around wildly. Id thought no further ahead than escaping this room. â€Å"I â€Å" â€Å". . . dont have anywhere to go,† she said with a sigh, finishing my thought. She glanced toward the other vampires, who were now huddled in the corner of the room, heads bent in conversation. â€Å"Ill just be going,† I said, struggling to my feet. My leg was fine, but my arms shook, and my breath came erratically. With local vampires watching my every move, where would I go? How would I feed? â€Å"Nonsense, youre coming with us,† she said, turning on her heel and walking out the door. She pointed to the young vampire and the one who wore glasses. â€Å"Percy and Hugo, stay and clean this place up.† I had to practically run to keep up with her and the tall, scarred vampire whod watched my torture. â€Å"Youll need someone to show you around,† she explained, pausing only slightly. â€Å"This is Buxton,† she said, grabbing the elbow of the vampire with the long scar. We walked down street after street until we neared a church with a tall spire. â€Å"Were here,† she said, turning sharply to enter a wrought-iron gate. Her boots echoed against a slate path that led to the rear of a house. She opened the door, and a musty scent greeted me. Buxton immediately walked through the parlor and up a set of stairs, leaving me and the young female vampire alone in the darkness. â€Å"Welcome home,† she said, spreading her hands wide. â€Å"There are plenty of spare rooms upstairs. Find one that suits you.† â€Å"Thank you.† As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I took in my surroundings. Black velvet curtains fastened with golden rope blocked every window. Dust motes floated in the air, and gilt-framed paintings covered the walls. The furniture was threadbare, and I could just make out two sweeping staircases with what looked like oriental runners and, in the next room, a piano. Though at one point this must have been a grand house, now the soiled walls were cracked and peeling, and cobwebs draped over the gold-and-crystal chandelier above us. â€Å"Always enter through the back. Never draw back the curtains. Dont ever bring anyone here. Do you understand, Stefan?† She looked at me pointedly. â€Å"Yes,† I said, running a finger along the marble fireplace, cutting a path in the inch-thick dust. â€Å"Then I think you will like it here,† she said. I turned to face her, nodding in agreement. My panic had subsided, and my arms no longer trembled. â€Å"Im Lexi,† she said, holding out her hand, allowing me to raise it to my lips and kiss it. â€Å"I have a feeling that you and I will be friends for a long time.† How to cite Stefan’s Diaries: Bloodlust Chapter 8~9, Essay examples

Stefan’s Diaries Bloodlust Chapter 8~9 Free Essays

Chapter 8 October 4, 1864 As a human, I’d thought it was my mother’s death that had shaped the men Damon and I would become. I’d called myself a half-orphan in the initial days after she died, locking myself away in my room, feeling as though my life had ended at the young age of ten. Father believed grieving was weak and unmanly, so Damon had been the one to comfort me. We will write a custom essay sample on Stefan’s Diaries: Bloodlust Chapter 8~9 or any similar topic only for you Order Now He’d go riding with me, let me join the older boys in their games, and beat up the Giffin brothers when they made fun of me for crying about Mother during a baseball game. Damon had always been the strong one, my protector. But I was wrong. It is my own death that has shaped me. Now the tables have turned. I am the strong one, and I have been trying to be Damon’s protector. But while I have always been grateful to Damon, he despises me and blames me for what he has become. I had forced him to feed from Alice, a bartender at the local tavern, which had completed his transformation. But does that make me a villain? I think not, especially as the act had saved his life. Finally, I see Damon the way Father had seen him: too imperious, too willful, too quick to make up his mind, and too slow to change it. And as I had also realized earlier this evening as I stood just outside the dim glare of the gas lamp, the body of the dead nurse at my feet: I am alone. A full orphan. Just as Katherine had presented herself when she came to Mystic Falls and stayed in our guesthouse. So that’s how vampires do it, then. They exploit vulnerability, get humans to trust them, and then, when all the emotions are firmly in place, they attack. So that is what I will do. I know not how or who my next victim will be, but I know, more than ever, that the only person I can look out for and protect is myself. Damon is on his own, and so am I. I heard Damon steal through the city, moving at vampire speed down the streets and alleys. At one point, he paused, whispering Katherines name over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer. Then, nothing Was he dead? Had he drowned himself? Or was he simply too far away for me to hear him? Either way, the result was the same. I was alone–Id lost my only connection to the man Id once been: Stefan Salvatore, the dutiful son, the lover of poetry, the man who stood up for what was right. I wondered if that meant that Stefan Salvatore, with no one to remember him, was really, truly dead, leaving me to be anyone. I could move to a different city every year, see the whole world. I could assume as many identities as Id like. I could be a Union soldier. I could be an Italian businessman. I could even be Damon. The sun plunged past the horizon like a cannonball falling to earth, dipping the city into darkness. I turned from one gaslit street to the next, the soles of my boots rasping over the gravelly cobblestones. A loose newspaper blew toward me. I stomped on the broadsheet, examining an etched photo of a girl with long, dark hair and pale eyes. She looked vaguely familiar. I wondered if she was a relative of one of the Mystic Falls girls. Or perhaps a nameless cousin whod attended barbecues at Veritas. But then I saw the headline:BRUTAL MURDER ABOARD THE ATLANTIC EXPRESS. Lavinia. Of course. Id already forgotten her. I reached down and crumpled the paper, hurling it as far as I could into the Mississippi. The surface of the water was muddy and turbulent, dappled with moonlight. I couldnt see my reflection–couldnt see anything but an abyss of blackness as deep and dark as my new future. Could I go for eternity, feeding, killing, forgetting, then repeating the cycle? Yes. Every instinct and impulse I had screamedyes. The triumph of closing in on my prey, touching my canines to the paper-thin skin that covered their necks, hearing their hearts slow to a dull thud and feeling a body go limp in my arms. Hunting and feeding made me feel alive, whole; they gave me a purpose in the world. It was, after all, the natural order of things. Animals killed weaker animals. Humans killed animals. I killed humans. Every species had their foe. I shuddered to think what monster was powerful enough to hunt me. The salty breeze wafting from the water was laced with the odor of unwashed bodies and rotting food–a far cry from the aroma across town, where scents of floral perfume and talcum powder hung heavy in the air of the wide streets. Here shadows hugged every corner, whispers rose and fell with the flowing of the river, and drunken hiccups pierced the air. It was dark, here. Dangerous. I quite liked it. I turned a corner, following my nose like a bloodhound on the trail of a doe. I flexed my arms, ready for a hunt–a gin-soaked drunk, a soldier, a lady out after dark. The victim didnt matter. I turned again, and the iron-scent of blood came closer. The smell was sweet and smoky. I focused on it, on the anticipation of sinking my fangs into a neck, of wondering whose blood Id be drinking, whose life Id be stealing. I continued to walk, picking up my pace as I traced the scent to an anonymous back street lined with an apothecary, a general store, and a tailor. The street was a replica of our own Main Street back in Mystic Falls. But while wed only had one, New Orleans must have had dozens, if not hundreds, of these corridors of commerce. The rusty smell of iron was stronger now. I followed twists and turns, my hunger building, burning, searing my very skin until finally, finally I came to a squat, peach-colored building. But when I saw the painted sign above the door, I stopped short. Sausages in their casings hung in the buildings grimy window; slabs of cured meat dangled from the ceiling like a grotesque childs mobile; carved ribs were nestled in ice beneath a counter, and in the far back, whole carcasses were strung up, draining blood into large vats. This was a butcher shop? I sighed in frustration but my hunger forced me to push the door open anyway. The iron chain snapped easily, as if it were no sturdier than thread. Once inside, I gazed at the bloodied carcasses, momentarily mesmerized by the blood falling into the vats, one drip at a time. Over the sound of the raining blood, I heard the slightestping, no louder than the twitch of a mouses whiskers. Then came the light shuffle of toes passing over concrete. I reared back, my eyes darting from corner to corner. Mice scuttled beneath the floorboards, and someones watch ticked in the building next door. All else was quiet. But the air around me suddenly felt thicker, and the ceiling lower somehow, and I became acutely aware that there was no back exit in this room of death. â€Å"Who goes there?† I called into the darkness, whirling around, my fangs bared. And then came movement. Fangs, eyes, the thud of footsteps closed in around me from all corners. A low, guttural growl echoed off the bloodstained walls of the shop, and I realized with a sickening jolt that I was surrounded by vampires who looked all too ready to pounce. Chapter 9 I crouched low, my fangs elongated. The heady scent of blood permeated every corner of the room, making my head spin. It was impossible to know where to attack first. The vampires growled again, and I emitted a low snarl in response. The circle closed in tighter around me. There were three of them, and I was caught, like a fish in a net, a deer surrounded by wolves. â€Å"What do you think youre doing?† one of the vampires asked. He looked to be in his mid-twenties and had a scar that ran the length of his face, from his left eye to the corner of his lip. â€Å"Im one of you,† I said, standing at my full height, fangs on display. â€Å"Oh, hes one of us!† an older vampire said in a sing-songy voice. He wore glasses and a tweed vest over a white-collared shirt. But for the fangs and red-rimmed eyes, he could have been an accountant or a friend of my fathers. I kept my face impassive. â€Å"I have no ill business with you, brothers.† â€Å"We are not your brothers,† said another with tawny hair. He looked not a day over fifteen. His face was smooth, but his green eyes were hard. The older one stepped forward, poking his bony finger against my chest as if it were a wooden stake. â€Å"So, brother, nice evening to dine or die. What do you think?† The young vampire kneeled next to me, gazing into my eyes. â€Å"Looks like hell do both tonight. Lucky boy,† he said, ruffling my hair. I tried to kick him, but my foot simply flopped harmlessly against air. â€Å"No, no, no.† While the scarred vampire watched wordlessly, the boy grabbed my arms and wrenched them so sharply and abruptly behind my back that I gasped. â€Å"Dont be disrespectful. Were your elders. And youve already done quite enough disrespecting already, if Miss Mollys house is any indication.† He drawled her name as if he were a benign, genteel Southern gentleman. Only the steel grip on my limbs betrayed that he wasnt anything of the sort. â€Å"I didnt do anything,† I said, kicking again. If I were to die, then Id die in a fight. â€Å"Are you sure?† he asked, looking down at me in disgust. I attempted to twist away, but still I couldnt budge. The elder vampire chuckled. â€Å"Cant control his urges. Impulsive, this one. Lets give him a taste of his own medicine.† With a flourish, he released me from his grasp, pushing me forward with strength Id never before felt. I hit the plaster wall with a crash and fell on my shoulder, my head cracking against the wooden floorboards. I cowered beneath my attackers, the realization sinking in that if I were to survive this encounter, it would not be by might. â€Å"I didnt mean to do anything. Im sorry,† I said, my voice breaking on the word. â€Å"Do you mean it?† the young vampire asked, a glint in his eye. The sound of wood breaking assaulted my ears. I flinched. Would one vampire stake another? This was not a question I wanted answered the hard way. â€Å"Yes. Yes! I didnt mean to come in here. I didnt know anyone was here. I only just arrived in New Orleans,† I said, scrambling for an excuse. â€Å"Silence!† he commanded, advancing toward me, a jagged piece of wood in his hand. I pressed my spine into the damaged wall. So this is how it would end. With me dying on a makeshift stake, killed by my own kind. Two hands crushed my arms, while another two pinned my ankles together so forcefully that it felt as though I were stuck under boulders. I closed my eyes. An image of Father lying prone on his study floor swam to the forefront of my mind, and I shook my head in agony, remembering his sweating, terrified face. Of course, Id been trying to save him, but he hadnt known that. If he was watching, as an angel or a demon or a mere specter condemned to haunt the world, hed be thrilled to see this scene unfold. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to evoke some other memory to the fore of my mind, one that would take me to another place, another time. But all I could think of were my victims, of the moment when my fangs sliced into their skin, their plaintive wails descending into silence, the blood dripping down my fangs and onto my chin. Soon, all the blood Id taken would be released, seeping out of my own body and back into the Earth, as I was left to die, for real this time, forever, on this wooden floor. â€Å"Enough!† A female voice sliced through the montage in my mind. Immediately, the vampires let go of my hands and feet. My eyes sprang open, and I saw a woman gliding through a narrow wooden door in the back. Her long blond hair descended in a single plait down her back, and she wore mens black pants and suspenders. She was tall, though slight as a child, and all the other vampires shrank away from her in fear. â€Å"You,† she said, kneeling next to me. â€Å"Who are you?† Her amber eyes gazed into mine. They were clear and curious, but there was something about them–the darkness of the pupils, perhaps–that seemed ancient and knowing, which stood in sharp contrast to her rosy-cheeked, unlined face. â€Å"Stefan Salvatore,† I answered her. â€Å"Stefan Salvatore,† she repeated in a perfect Italian accent. Although teasing, her voice didnt seem unkind. She ran a finger gently along my jaw, then placed her palm against my chest and she pressed me against the wall, hard. The suddenness of the movement stunned me, but as I sat, pinned and helpless, she brought her other wrist to her mouth, using her fang to puncture the vein. She dragged her wrist along her teeth, creating a small stream of blood. â€Å"Drink,† she commanded, bringing her wrist to my lips. I did as I was told, managing to get a few drops of the liquid down my throat before she yanked her hand away. â€Å"Thats enough. That should fix your wounds at any rate.† â€Å"He and his brother have been wreaking havoc all over town,† the large vampire said, his makeshift stake pointed at me like a rifle. â€Å"Just me,† I said quickly. â€Å"My brother had no part in it.† Damon would never survive the wrath of these demons. Not in his weakened state. The blond vampire wrinkled her nose as she leaned even closer toward me. â€Å"Youre what, a week old?† she asked, leaning back on her heels. â€Å"Almost two weeks,† I said defiantly, lifting my chin. She nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips, and stood, surveying the shop. The plaster wall was partially caved in, and blood smeared the floor and speckled the walls, as though a child had stood in the center of the room and twirled around with a wet paintbrush. She tsked, and the three male vampires simultaneously took a step back. I shivered. â€Å"Percy, come here, and bring that knife,† she said. With a sigh, the youngest vampire produced a long carving knife from behind his back. â€Å"He wasnt following the rules,† he said petulantly, reminding me of the Giffin boys back home. They were both bullies, always ready to kick a kid in the schoolyard and then turn around and tell a teacher they had nothing to do with it. She took the knife and stared at it, running the pad of her index finger over the gleaming blade. Then she held it back out to Percy. He hesitated a moment, but finally stepped forward to take it. Just then the girls canines elongated and her eyes flushed bloodred. With a growl, she stabbed Percy right in the chest. He fell to his knees, doubled over in silent agony. â€Å"You hunt this vampire for making a scene in town,† she seethed, stabbing the knife in farther, â€Å"and yet you attempt to destroy him in this public space, in this shop? Youre just as foolish as he is.† The young vampire staggered to his feet. Blood streamed down the front of his shirt, as though hed spilled coffee on himself. He grimaced as he pulled the knife out with a sucking sound. â€Å"Im sorry,† he gasped. â€Å"Thank you.† The woman held her wrist toward Percys mouth. Despite her youthful look and apparently violent temper, she also had a mothering quality that the other vampires seemed to accept, as if her stabbings were as normal to them as a light swat would be to a high-spirited child. She turned toward me. â€Å"Im sorry for your troubles, Stefan. Now, can I help you be on your way?† she asked. I looked around wildly. Id thought no further ahead than escaping this room. â€Å"I â€Å" â€Å". . . dont have anywhere to go,† she said with a sigh, finishing my thought. She glanced toward the other vampires, who were now huddled in the corner of the room, heads bent in conversation. â€Å"Ill just be going,† I said, struggling to my feet. My leg was fine, but my arms shook, and my breath came erratically. With local vampires watching my every move, where would I go? How would I feed? â€Å"Nonsense, youre coming with us,† she said, turning on her heel and walking out the door. She pointed to the young vampire and the one who wore glasses. â€Å"Percy and Hugo, stay and clean this place up.† I had to practically run to keep up with her and the tall, scarred vampire whod watched my torture. â€Å"Youll need someone to show you around,† she explained, pausing only slightly. â€Å"This is Buxton,† she said, grabbing the elbow of the vampire with the long scar. We walked down street after street until we neared a church with a tall spire. â€Å"Were here,† she said, turning sharply to enter a wrought-iron gate. Her boots echoed against a slate path that led to the rear of a house. She opened the door, and a musty scent greeted me. Buxton immediately walked through the parlor and up a set of stairs, leaving me and the young female vampire alone in the darkness. â€Å"Welcome home,† she said, spreading her hands wide. â€Å"There are plenty of spare rooms upstairs. Find one that suits you.† â€Å"Thank you.† As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I took in my surroundings. Black velvet curtains fastened with golden rope blocked every window. Dust motes floated in the air, and gilt-framed paintings covered the walls. The furniture was threadbare, and I could just make out two sweeping staircases with what looked like oriental runners and, in the next room, a piano. Though at one point this must have been a grand house, now the soiled walls were cracked and peeling, and cobwebs draped over the gold-and-crystal chandelier above us. â€Å"Always enter through the back. Never draw back the curtains. Dont ever bring anyone here. Do you understand, Stefan?† She looked at me pointedly. â€Å"Yes,† I said, running a finger along the marble fireplace, cutting a path in the inch-thick dust. â€Å"Then I think you will like it here,† she said. I turned to face her, nodding in agreement. My panic had subsided, and my arms no longer trembled. â€Å"Im Lexi,† she said, holding out her hand, allowing me to raise it to my lips and kiss it. â€Å"I have a feeling that you and I will be friends for a long time.† How to cite Stefan’s Diaries: Bloodlust Chapter 8~9, Essay examples