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Harry is a scary story about a woman whose young daughter has an imaginary friend. It is based on a classic ghost story by Rosemary Timperley. Such ordinary things make me afraid. My daughter Christine was five years old.
It was a hot, sunny day and she was playing alone in the garden. I overheard her talking to someone. I went outside to see who it was, but there was nobody there. I was puzzled. That evening, when my husband came home from work, I told him about it. He said it was normal for kids that age to have imaginary friends.
I tried to put it out of my mind, but something about that name… Harry… sent a shiver down my spine. The next day, Christine was playing in the garden again while I was in the kitchen.
Again, I heard her talking to someone. When I looked out the window, I thought I could see a dark shadow on the grass. It looked like a person, but maybe it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. I tapped on the window and told Christine to come inside for dinner. My daughter spent every day in the garden, talking to her imaginary friend. After a while, it began to worry me, so I took her to see a psychiatrist.
As soon as she starts school, she will forget all about it. A few days later, Chirstine started school. I dropped her off in the morning for her first day. I kissed her on the forehead and waved goodbye, then watched as she walked up to the front door of the school and went inside. There was something I had to do. I took a bus into the city and made my way to a large grey building.
It had been four long years since I visited the building. It was the orphanage where we adopted Christine. The woman who ran the orphanage opened the door and invited me inside. Who were her birth parents? Where were they now? Had they died and if so, how had they died? I told her it was very inportant. I begged and pleaded. I got down on my knees. Eventually, the woman gave in. They were drug addicts and they neglected their children.
The house they lived in was in terrible condition. One night, the mother and father got into a violent argument. The father grabbed a knife and ended up stabbing his wife to death.
He cut off her head. Then, he attacked the children. They found Chistine in the garden, clutched in the arms of her brother. She was unharmed. Her brother was dead.
He had been fatally stabbed and as he was dying, he managed to grab Christine take her to safety. They found their father and mother inside the house. The father had taken his own life. My eyes were welling up with tears. I stumbled out of the orphanage in a daze. I wandered through the streets with no idea of where I was going. I felt like I was in a nightmare.
Then, I looked at my watch. I had to pick up Christine from school and I was already late. I hopped on a bus and eventually, I arrived at the school. I walked down the hallway and went into the classroom, where I found the teacher gathering up her books.
My heart sank in my chest. I was running down the street searching for my daughter, screaming and crying hysterically.
It was no use. She was gone. I spent the next two weeks in bed. The police searched for Christine, but they never found any trace of her. Her picture was in the newspaper. Her face was on milk cartons. Everybody was looking for her, but it was as if she had disappeared into thin air. After a while, people lost interest and the search was called off. It remained just another unsolved mystery. Years have passed since then, but the pain in my heart never goes away.
The fear never ends. Wait how does she know that Harry has red hair? I have seen better stories tho. Created in by ScaryForKids. Powered by WordPress. Ghost Stories. Cancel reply You must be logged in to post a comment. Latest Posts. My Name is Tommy. We Need to Talk About Lucy. Stranger Danger. Look at Me. Babysitter and the Bed. Clap Clap. The Peephole. Perfect Girl. Intruder Alert. Psychic Ability. White Death. Tap Tap Tap. New Message.
Harry by Rosemary Timperley Essay Questions
Rosemary Timperley 20 March — 9 November was a British novelist, short story writer and screenwriter. She wrote a wide range of fiction, publishing 66 novels in 33 years, and several hundred short stories, but is best remembered for her ghost stories which appear in many anthologies. She also edited several volumes of ghost stories. In the mids, while still working as a teacher, she started submitting short stories to magazines and newspapers, with the first, "Hot Air — and Penelope", being published in Illustrated 10 August Still writing, she left her job as a teacher to become a staff writer for Reveille magazine in , editing the personal advice column under the pen name Jane Blythe , readers' letters and writing a number of stories, feature articles and book reviews. After writing a number of novels starting with A Dread of Burning in , she left Reveille to become a freelance writer, going on to write a number of radio and television scripts. By the early s she had separated from her husband, who died in , but she continued writing novels, short stories and scripts until her death on 9 November
They had been live together for a quite a few years since Christine joined this family. It's all looks normal, normal family, normal parents, and normal kid. However, something had changed when Christine was five years old. One day, she played alone outside her house, seems normal so far, then when her mother told her to come back home and have some food. Something strange had happened. Christine had asked her mother can " Harry " come as well. Her mother reject because there's nobody out there but Christine said there is one boy call Harry, right next to her.
Why are they significant to the story? What is the purpose of repeating those symbols in the story? Support your answers with relevant examples from the short story. In this ghost story, it is not often that you would feel uneasy or frightened during the daytime. Sharp shadows on grass. White roses. Children with red hair.
Harry is a scary story about a woman whose young daughter has an imaginary friend. It is based on a classic ghost story by Rosemary Timperley. Such ordinary things make me afraid. My daughter Christine was five years old. It was a hot, sunny day and she was playing alone in the garden.
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