scream - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
There is a scream from deep within that forces its way from my mouth, it is as if my terrified soul has unleashed a demon. All I feel is anger, all I feel is that I don't want to be friends with anyone at all because then I don't have to trust anyone, it'll be safer, easier to choose not to stay. And I know I'm hiding a truth from myself, of how much this is really to do with sadness and the scars that just won't heal. Yet these fists clench and my teeth lock up once the sound is out. I'm just gonna have to walk away for a while, see this "elephant" from a few miles away, figure it out.
In his intense silence he somehow screamed with his whole body. The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile, the fists clenched with blanched knuckles and the nails digging deeply into the palms of his hand.
The scream tore through me like a great shard of glass. I felt my eyes widen and pulse quicken, my heart thudding like a rock rattling in box. The scream came again, desperate, terrified... human. The blood drained from my face, before I was even aware of making a conscious decision my legs were pounding furiously on the uneven muddy track, my ears straining for more sounds, more clues as to where it had come from. I had no clue as to what I'd do when I got there, just that I had to get there, fast.
It was the kind of scream that made your blood run cold. It pierced the brain and ignited some primeval pathway. Adrenaline surged through my veins, fight or flight, stand or run, be a hero or a coward. As my fingers curled around the black handle of the bread knife my decision was made.
Boy, what a scream that was. It made the hair strand straight up on the back of my neck. It was the loudest most piercing scream I had ever heard. It sounded like a scream of wild panic. A scream of hysteria and disbelief, bordering on terror.
Tom lay on the ground, his face closed in a grimace, is skin pale and clammy. Every few minutes he would scream, not like one of those guys in some Tarantino movie being tortured, but worse. It had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. Then he would go quiet, just panting. I should have been there at his side, at least then he wouldn't have been alone in his torture. But instead I walked away, unable to bear it, leaving Sofia to talk constantly in his ears and stroke his hair until the paramedics took over. Then it was Sofia that climbed into the ambulance and disappeared in a whirl of blue light and blaring siren. I knew then I'd lost him, even if he survived. I was the one that stepped away rather than face his suffering.
She screamed like a baby in a tumble dryer, garbled, muffled, intermittent, but none the less distressing and intense.
We can never truly feel another's pain, but that scream of Piper's came close. It was the kind of scream that puts every other thought on hold and roots everyone close in the very same agony. There wasn't a person in a hundred feet that didn't come running, most of them with cell phone's already out to dial for ambulance.
A scream pierce the winter morning like the air raid sirens did a few years before. It echoed through the terraced houses making the origin hard to pin-point. The first cries were undoubtedly terror, but not the shrill cries of a movie theatre, the cries of one with eyes locked wide and every muscle rigid. The next were of pain, garbling and pitiful. The boys found her, most of them taking off after the attacker without any luck. Out gentle Liam stayed with Mary, urging her to hold on.