Coucou à vous, Aujourd'hui, je poste un de mes devoir fait en L.E.L.E (Littérature Étrangère en Langue Étrangère) dont l'énoncé était: Écrivez un extrait de fiction né de votre imagination en vous inspirant du mouvement Gothic (Gothic Fiction) et en prenant exemple sur de grands classiques du genre (Edgar Allan Poe (The Pit and thé Pendulum) ou The Castle of Otranto, entre autre). Votre personnage principal devra se réveillé(e), alerté(e) par un bruit étrange.
Je tiens à préciser que cet extrait sera écrit en anglais et non en français (je tenterai de faire une traduction si certains me la demande et si j'ai assez de temps pour la faire (avec les révisions du BAC, tout ça tout ça, cela risque d'être assez compliqué mais je ferai de mon mieux). Voilà Voilà.
Scotland, 1746 - Duntulm Castle. Year of the Jacobite Rebellion. Laoghaire MacGregor is sent by her father to look for help near the MacDonald's clan. Once arrived, nobody seems to live in the surrounding area. Only the caretaker had stayed there since thé accident which was the cause of the death of the cheftain's son in 1732.
It was night-time outside. Laoghaire was not reassured by what she was seeing. The castle was too wide and very dark, only lit by torches and by the weak light which was given off by the Moon. A strange feeling turned her stomach. With a rapid step, she climbed the stairs to go towards her room with a candle in her hand and closes the door.
Tired, she dropped off the candle's flame. A great fear came over her. Laoghaire was not able to sleep. This dread became unbearable and prevented her from sleeping.
While she tried to get to sleep, she was awaken by a tapping at the window of her room at midnight. Afraid of what she was hearing, she glanced at the window. Asking herself what these noises could be, she went towards the door to open it and headed for the gates. But it seemed that neither a tree nor a gust of wind could make similar noises.
Turning over, she heard some whispers. A child voice. A bloodcurdling voice.
Under the moonlight, she ventured to the forest, intrigued by what she heard and disappeared on the depths of the forest.
Far away, she saw a shape. But when she approached this uncanny form, it desappeared... to come closer. What she saw horrified her. This shape in front of her was seemingly fluttering and, paralysed, Laoghaire tried to regain consciousness.
Breathing heavily, she jerked and pain-stricken, she conjured herself up, stirred by the noise and started to run.
Leaning on a tree, she gasped for breath and looked around her to observe if the form was following her.
Feeling a sudden icy wind and bearing a crack, she stopped, horror-struck. Whispers and sighs echoed in the surrounding air. Her blood curdled when she felt a wind behind her back. She cast a glance at the ghost and tried to make its features out. What she saw turned Laoghaire's blood to ice. Its pristine and bloodless skin contrasted with the darkness of the forest.
Woilà woilà. Merci à ceux qui ont pris la peine de lire. Dites moi ce que vous en pensez. Je vous fais de gros bisous. Mouwaa.