Pratique du Shadowing: 3 True Snapchat Horror Stories Animated - Apprendre l'anglais à l'oral avec la vidéo
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284 phrases
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I barely put my phone on the nightstand after posting the first snap of Nina
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and me together when my bedroom window shattered.
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My phone clattered to the floor, and I flinched as my ex, Rebecca, crawled inside, looking like an angry bull.
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Where's homewrecker Aaron?
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Rebecca?
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What the hell?
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Get out!
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I'm asking one last time.
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Where is that bitch?
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I met Rebecca at a college fest.
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She was in the music program and actually had a pretty decent voice.
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I asked her out, and by the time the weekend was over, we were official.
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The first few months were great.
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We clicked on everything.
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She loved hanging out with my friends and was already hinting at a long-term relationship.
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But around the one-year mark, things started to fall apart.
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I landed an internship at an architecture firm downtown, and she started getting super anxious when I wasn't around.
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I kept telling her work was hectic, but nothing helped.
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She'd call me five times in a row if I didn't answer once, and eventually, she even started calling my co-workers.
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When she thought I was asleep, she'd go through my phone.
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I tried talking to her and setting some boundaries, but it would only stick for a week before she'd slide right back.
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That Valentine's Day, Rebecca wanted me to take off work for a trip to Miami she'd planned, but I was gunning for a full-time offer and told her I couldn't make it happen.
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She completely lost it, trashing the apartment and screaming that I was choosing my job over her.
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I told her I was done with the drama and ended it right then.
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As expected, she didn't handle it well.
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She texted all my friends and tried to humiliate me in ways I wouldn't want to remember, but after a few weeks of being ignored,
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she finally went dark, and I actually had an impression she was over it.
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By September, I'd started seeing Nina from work.
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Compared to Rebecca, she was a breath of fresh air.
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About two weeks in, I posted a photo of us on Snapchat.
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I took it while dining at this rooftop bar.
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I felt like things were finally clicking into place.
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I had no idea Rebecca was still watching me from a burner account and that she was about to break in.
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Rebecca, get out or I'm calling 911!
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I warned her.
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How dare you go behind my back!
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You think I wouldn't find out?
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I'll show you!
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She shoved past me, tearing through the living room and screaming insults about Nina.
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I scrambled after her, yelling for her to stop, but she ignored me completely.
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She stormed into the kitchen and started flinging silverware across the floor.
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Seriously, Rebecca, get the hell out of my apartment.
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We are nothing.
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I stepped in front of her.
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She stood still for a second and blinked, looking shocked that I'd actually stand my ground.
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I was heaving, hoping she'd maybe break down and run.
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Instead, she started clapping and giggling like a maniac.
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Suddenly, she lunged.
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She grabbed the box cutter from the table and drove it into my forearm.
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Pain exploded up my arm and I screamed.
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Now tell me this is nothing!
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She hissed, yanking it out and shoving it back.
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Blood dripped from the deep cut.
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I was in shock, stumbling back against the wall.
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But she wasn't done.
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She kicked me in the calf and while I doubled over, she bolted toward the basement to tear up my storage unit.
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I fought to catch my breath before I somehow limped to the bedroom to grab my phone.
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I was dialing 911, but she was already out the door by the time the operator answered.
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I got four stitches, filed a police report, and took out a restraining order the next morning.
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When the cops questioned her, she denied ever being there.
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Of course, the hallway camera in my building had been spray-painted over earlier that week, so I had zero footage and nothing to show for it but my arm.
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I really thought the restraining order would stop her.
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But three weeks later, the snaps started up again.
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There was me leaving my apartment at 8 in the morning, shot from across the street and at the gym, taken through the parking lot window.
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She even captured me walking into Nina's building across town.
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Every snap came from a fresh burner account without texts or bitmojis.
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I knew the game she was playing.
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She just wanted to make sure she'd be in the back of my mind 24-7.
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I brought every single screenshot to the detective
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that he just told me to keep documenting and said it was tough to prosecute without something more direct.
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I hated hearing that.
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One morning, I checked Snapchat, half expecting to get another snap from the street.
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Instead, I got a photo of a bedroom wall with my picture pinned to the center.
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It was surrounded by candles and other stuff I didn't want to look at too hard.
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The caption read, I'm going to get you back very soon.
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I rushed back to the police with everything.
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They went to her place and did a tour, but they said it looked totally normal.
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There were no shrines or anything.
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Either she'd scrubbed it before they got there, or she was running this out of a place nobody would ever find out.
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By the time they tried to trace the account, it was already dead.
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She's been quiet for weeks now.
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Nina even felt safe enough to move back to her own place.
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I've stopped obsessively scanning the street every single morning, though I still catch myself doing it half the time anyway.
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I don't know if she's finally moving on, or if she's just getting smarter about how she does this.
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Honestly, I don't know which one scares me more.
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I was fiddling with my camera settings to get a better shot
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when I saw something move behind the bush on my screen.
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I zoomed in and completely froze.
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My throat had gone so dry I could barely speak.
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My best friend who had been messing with Snapchat filters for the past 10 minutes snapped her head up.
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She looked at me before following my gaze.
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Her eyes widened.
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Unaware of our presence, the man continued dragging the woman deeper into the woods.
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He was tall and built like a bull.
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The woman seemed to be in her mid-twenties and was totally limp.
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Her feet dragged through the grass behind her.
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Before I could even move, Darla started recording, following him.
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She muttered something about needing to get the scene clear before doing anything.
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Are you crazy?
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I hissed, scrambling after her.
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She didn't even look at me and kept adjusting her lens.
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Suddenly, the guy stopped, dropped his backpack, and pulled out a roll of duct tape and some rope.
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My stomach dropped.
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Dardless, stop!
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He kidnapped her!
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We have to call 911 right now!
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She glanced at me, annoyed, like I was interrupting something important.
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And miss this?
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This is going to be huge, and we're getting actual evidence.
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Just give it ten minutes.
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We get the footage, then we call.
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I stared at her, horrified.
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Have you lost your mind?
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She promised it wouldn't take more than ten minutes.
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Against every instinct I had, I stayed.
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I didn't know it yet, but I was making a mistake that could have been the last of our lives.
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But I loved and trusted Darla.
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She had been my best friend since middle school.
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She lived two blocks away, and every Saturday that wasn't gray, she'd drag me out to Riverside Park for snaps.
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She had this photography account with a few thousand followers on Snapchat and was obsessed with chasing the golden hour.
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I mostly tagged along because it was usually a nice way to kill an evening.
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We'd grab snacks at the park entrance, wander the lake path, and I'd scroll through my phone while she snapped photos and asked for my opinion.
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That Saturday in April, we were about an hour into our usual loop, way out by the tree line.
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The light was hitting everything just right, so I pulled out my phone to snap a few shots of my own.
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That's when I saw the man dragging the woman behind the bushes.
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Darla, enough!
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I hissed, my heart slamming against my ribs.
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We have to call 911.
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My thumb hovered over the 911 dialer.
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Wait!
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Darla snatched it up.
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Just one more minute.
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We need proof, or nobody's going to believe us.
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We crept through the bushes, watching from 20 feet away.
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He was methodical, like he was doing yard work.
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He pulled out tape and rope.
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The woman on the ground didn't move.
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Darla was live streaming.
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Her phone was lighting up with DMs and people screaming at her to call the cops.
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The numbers were insane.
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Darla, stop.
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We're calling now.
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One more minute.
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Just as I reached for my phone, the guy looked up and our eyes met.
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He blinked and before I could even gasp, he was on us.
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Darla shrieked and bolted, but I was too slow.
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He covered the distance in a heartbeat and grabbed my arm.
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Yanking me back, he shoved me into the dirt and pinned my wrist with his knee.
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The next thing I knew, he had a knife to my throat.
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Drop it!
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He barked.
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I let my phone fall into the dirt.
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My heart was going a mile a minute.
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I couldn't know what to do.
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He started talking trash about how my friend had ditched me
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and saying some really sick stuff about what he was going to do next.
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I was shaking so hard I could barely move.
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I was crying, begging him to just let me go and promising I wouldn't say a word to anyone.
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Now where's the fun in that?
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He sneered.
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About time, the woman on the ground started to wake up.
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I saw her eyes open and she realized what was happening.
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She started trying to crawl away, being as quiet as possible.
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but he hurt her anyway.
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He spun around and before she could bolt he caught her and shoved the knife in her ribs.
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I screamed.
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He backhanded me to shut me up and went after her again.
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There was blood everywhere.
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It got all over my shirt and his hands.
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The woman looked like she was trying to scream but no sound was coming out.
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He dropped her like she was a piece of trash and turned back to me, grabbing me by my hair.
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He had the knife inches from my neck when a gunshot went off from the hedge.
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He stumbled back.
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It didn't even register what happened until I saw Darla standing there with two cops.
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One of them still had his gun aimed right at the guy.
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She'd sprinted all the way to the park entrance and found a patrol car.
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She actually made it in time.
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Turns out the guy was David Winskin.
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He was a drug addict and the woman's stepbrother and had been trying to extort money from his stepfather.
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When the dad didn't take him seriously, David lost it and kidnapped her on her way home from work.
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The woman survived.
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She was in surgery for hours and lost a lot of blood, but she's okay now.
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Darla and I spent the whole night at the station giving statements.
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When my parents picked me up, my mom didn't say a word, but she held my hand like she was scared I'd disappear.
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The detective told us the Snapchat video was good evidence, but it was really stupid of us.
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He said that the time spent filming instead of calling 911 was time they could have used
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and helped us avoid all that blood and injuries.
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Darla kept apologizing for weeks over her foolishness, crying about how that one minute could have cost me my life.
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She's right, but I feel just as responsible.
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I could have just called 911 myself.
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I could have saved that woman and myself a lot of trouble.
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It was stupid of me, and it could have ended a lot worse.
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But I can't go back and change it.
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I have to live with it my whole life.
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And I've learned.
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I was still half asleep in bed at 7 when my phone buzzed with a Snapchat notification.
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I grabbed it, hoping for a cute text from the guy in my econ class, or maybe a meme from Becca or Jade.
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Instead, a video popped up.
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It was only 15 seconds long, filmed in the dark, with the camera slowly panning across the room.
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Dread crawled up as I watched.
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My throat tightened with each passing second, and heart started racing.
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I recognized the curtains, the ring light on the table, and that aesthetic poster pulled off from Pinterest immediately.
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I held my breath while the camera panned slowly to the figure sitting on the bed.
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A painted red toe came in the frame first, followed by some blonde curls, and finally, the face.
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I shrieked, fumbling and dropping the phone on the duvet as I jolted upright.
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It was me.
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Someone had been inside my apartment while I was asleep and filmed me.
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I'd been at Caldwell for about a year.
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Being a junior on financial aid meant my life was grinding through my accounting degree and working two campus jobs.
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I lived in a third-floor studio with a keypad lock on campus.
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And until two weeks ago, my biggest stress was to maintain my grades
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so I could uphold the scholarship and making sure my assignments were in on time.
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The first snap came on a weekend at 7.05pm.
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I was stuck in a massive study session, trying to fix a balance sheet error.
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Suddenly, my phone chimed with a Snapchat notification.
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I picked it up.
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It was a snap from a throwaway account called Your Reflection.
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I opened it and froze.
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It was a photo of me, taken from the foot of my bed at 2am.
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I tried to reply, but there was nothing except for a default bitmoji.
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I asked the person who it was, but didn't get any reply.
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I tried getting more details about the account, but it only had a bitmoji and nothing else.
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I panicked, thinking maybe a creep had broken in or something and hurriedly rang the building management.
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By the time they arrived, I changed my keypad code and checked every window, but all of them were already bolted.
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I told them I received a snap somebody had taken from within my room.
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They checked the building's CCTV, but it didn't seem like anyone had entered.
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I tried to convince myself it was just a sick prank by a friend, maybe Jade.
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She had a YouTube channel where she posted stupid prank videos once in a while.
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So I called her.
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You kidding?
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Why would I ever do something so silly?
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Uh, I'm sorry.
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I just thought maybe you'd want content or something.
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You serious?
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Babe, my pranks are always harmless.
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I swear it's not me.
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I wanted to believe her.
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Midterms were fast approaching, and I'd almost forgotten about them.
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But on a Wednesday evening while I was studying, 7.05 p.m hit again, and another snap pinged in.
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This time, it was me in the bathtub.
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My hands started shaking.
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I called campus police right away, and they didn't find a thing when they searched the place.
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Since the snap was a one-time view, I had zero proof to show them.
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One of the officers even had the nerve to ask if I was on something.
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I told him that was completely insane.
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Over lunch, I vented to Becca and Jade.
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Becca was clearly worried, but Jade just tilted her head and asked if I'd been under a lot of stress.
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What do you mean?
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It happens to me all the time during finals.
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I lose track of whether I've eaten or showered.
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You've been stressed about midterms because of your scholarship, so maybe...
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I told her I was prepared and, while worried, I knew I'd keep my grades up.
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She nodded, but I could tell she didn't buy it.
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The third snap arrived the next night at the exact same time.
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This time, it showed me at my desk at 2.47am.
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By the fourth snap, I was barely sleeping.
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I put tape over my laptop camera, bought a doorstop alarm, and started sleeping with the lights on.
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It didn't matter, though.
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The fifth one came anyway.
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After that, I didn't waste a second ordering a hidden camera from Amazon.
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I set it up on my bookshelf, aiming it right at my bed.
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I didn't tell anyone about it.
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I spent three days watching the footage, but there was nothing.
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By the fourth morning, I was so exhausted, I barely wanted to check the footage, but I did it anyway.
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I scrolled through hours of me sleeping peacefully.
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I was about to shut it off when the video shifted it.
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At 3.12am, I sat up, moving with a jarring stiffness.
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I didn't look confused.
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I stumbled to my desk and pulled my old spare phone out of the corner drawer.
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I shoved it into a pile of books at a weird tilted angle.
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I fumbled around with the screen, hitting record before I sent the clip.
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I walked back, collapsed onto the bed, and passed out again.
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My eyes were open the whole time, but my face was completely blank.
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I rewatched the clip a dozen times, hoping I'd see something that proved it wasn't me, but the clip didn't change.
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I called Dr. Okafor the next day.
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Jade had mentioned him a while back.
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It took several weeks of sessions and tests before he could confirm it was a dissociative episode caused by extreme academic stress.
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He said it's more common than people think and totally manageable.
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We've been working on it for about four months.
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I'm better at spotting the triggers now and my sleep schedule is rigid.
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I haven't gotten a snap from your reflection in six weeks.
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But I still keep that camera on the bookshelf because the worst part wasn't the creepy messages.
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It was realizing that while I was dead asleep, my body was up and moving around as if I were there, but there was nobody home behind my eyes.
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Thank you.
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Vocabulaire et conseils d’expression pour cette leçon
Cette leçon d’expression orale de niveau B2 s’appuie sur la vidéo « 3 True Snapchat Horror Stories Animated ». Cette vidéo contient 284 phrases et 3103 mots à répéter en shadowing. La partie parlée dure 18:35. Le locuteur parle à un rythme naturel d’environ 167 mots par minute, proche d’une conversation courante. Seuls 77 % des mots font partie des 3 000 mots les plus courants en anglais, le vocabulaire est donc exigeant.
Vocabulaire clé de cette vidéo
Les 15 mots les plus avancés de la vidéo, avec leur prononciation et leur sens :
| Mot | Prononciation | Sens |
|---|---|---|
| scream verbe | /skɹiːm/ | crier |
| shove verbe | /ʃʌv/ | bousculer, fourrer |
| bolt nom | /boʊlt/ | boulon, vis |
| crawl verbe | /kɹɔːl/ | s'aplatir devant, s'aplatir |
| bookshelf nom | /ˈbʊkˌʃɛlf/ | bibliothèque, étagère |
| kidnap verbe | /ˈkɪdnæp/ | enlever, kidnapper |
| midterm adjectif | /ˈmɪdˌtɚm/ | mi-mandat, mi-session |
| restrain verbe | /ɹɪˈstɹeɪn/ | retenir |
| shriek verbe | /ʃɹiːk/ | crier |
| stumble verbe | /ˈstʌmbəl/ | trébucher, faire un faux pas |
| yank verbe | /ˈjæŋk/ | tirer d'un coup sec |
| burner nom | /ˈbɝnɚ/ | feu, brûleur |
| rib nom | /ɹɪb/ | côte |
| prank nom | /pɹæŋk/ | farce, tour |
| blink verbe | /ˈblɪŋk/ | ciller, cligner des yeux |
Les verbes à particule que vous entendrez
| Mot | Prononciation | Sens |
|---|---|---|
| pull out verbe | se retirer | |
| find out verbe | découvrir, savoir | |
| get out verbe | sortir | |
| break down verbe | tomber en panne | |
| come out verbe | /ˌkʌm ˈaʊt/ | sortir |
| fall apart verbe | tomber en morceaux | |
| go back verbe | rentrer, retourner | |
| go through verbe | traverser |
Des phrases à répéter
Des phrases courtes et complètes de la vidéo, à réutiliser dans la conversation de tous les jours :
- I'm asking one last time.
- You think I wouldn't find out?
- Honestly, I don't know which one scares me more.
- Have you lost your mind?
- Why would I ever do something so silly?
La grammaire de cette vidéo
Les structures que le locuteur utilise le plus, avec les mots exacts de la vidéo :
| Structure | Dans la vidéo |
|---|---|
| Present perfect have/has + participe passé — une action passée qui compte encore maintenant | She's been · I've stopped · Have you lost |
| Voix passive be + participe passé — l’accent est mis sur ce qui arrive, pas sur qui le fait | being ignored · was surrounded · were already bolted |
| Propositions relatives who / which + proposition — une précision sur une personne ou une chose | friend who had · person who it |
Prononciation à surveiller
Le locuteur utilise 66 contractions et formes réduites, comme didn't, I'd, she'd. Prononcez-les sous leur forme courte, telles que vous les entendez.
- Les sons « th »: thumb /ˈθʌm/, aesthetic /ɛsˈθɛ.tɪk/
- Les sons « sh » et « zh »: shove /ʃʌv/, bookshelf /ˈbʊkˌʃɛlf/, shriek /ʃɹiːk/, notification /ˌnoʊtɪfɪˈkeɪʃn̩/, scholarship /ˈskɑːləɹʃɪp/
Les sons difficiles pour les francophones :
- /h/ — il se souffle, il n’est pas muet: hiss /hɪs/, heartbeat /ˈhɑɹtˌbit/, hallway /ˈhɔlˌweɪ/, hedge /ˈhɛd͡ʒ/, harmless /ˈhɑɹmləs/
- /tʃ/ et /dʒ/ — à ne pas adoucir en « ch » et « j »: hedge /ˈhɛd͡ʒ/, rigid /ˈɹɪd͡ʒ.ɪd/, adjust /əˈd͡ʒʌst/
- /r/ anglais — langue recourbée, sans frotter la gorge: scream /skɹiːm/, crawl /kɹɔːl/, restrain /ɹɪˈstɹeɪn/, shriek /ʃɹiːk/, rib /ɹɪb/
Comment s’entraîner avec cette vidéo
- Écoutez la vidéo en entier une fois sans parler et notez les mots que vous ne connaissez pas.
- Commencez à la vitesse 0,75×, répétez phrase par phrase, puis revenez à la vitesse normale quand cela devient facile.
- Enregistrez-vous et comparez avec l’original, en faisant attention à des mots comme scream, shove, bolt.
Qu'est-ce que la technique du Shadowing ?
Le Shadowing est une technique d'apprentissage des langues fondée sur la science, développée à l'origine pour la formation des interprètes professionnels. Le principe est simple mais puissant : vous écoutez de l'anglais natif et le répétez immédiatement à voix haute — comme une ombre suivant le locuteur avec un décalage de 1 à 2 secondes. Les recherches montrent une amélioration significative de la précision de la prononciation, de l'intonation, du rythme, des liaisons, de la compréhension orale et de la fluidité.