Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.

Be a good guide, tell me what you see, are sure is that?Please try to describe the picture as much vocabulary as possible!

She stooped for a stone and dropped it down.'Fancy being where that is now,' she said, peering into the blackness; 'fancy going round and round like a mouse in a pail, clutching at the slimy sides, with the water filling your mouth, and looking up to the little patch of sky above.''You had better come in,' said Benson, very quietly. 'You are developing a taste for the morbid and horrible.' ("The Well")

Sometimes, I am my own worst enemy.

My eyes always keep searching,for something inexpressible,above the far away sky.I long to get lost,inside the evening-twilight.Silence always tickles me __n a strange way;I meet __e__n the time between sunset and darkness.

It was nothing but a hole, a mouth open wide. You could lean over the edge and peer down to see nothing. All I knew about the well was its frightening depth. It was deep beyond measuring, and crammed full of darkness, as if all the world__ darkness had been boiled down to their ultimate density.