Prática de Shadowing: 3 True Snapchat Horror Stories Animated - Aprenda a falar inglês com vídeo

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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.

Vocabulário e dicas de fala para esta lição

Esta aula de conversação de nível B2 usa o vídeo “3 True Snapchat Horror Stories Animated”. Este vídeo tem 284 frases e 3103 palavras para praticar shadowing. A fala dura 18:35. O falante fala em ritmo natural, cerca de 167 palavras por minuto, próximo de uma conversa do dia a dia. Apenas 77% das palavras estão entre as 3.000 mais comuns do inglês, por isso o vocabulário é exigente.

Vocabulário principal deste vídeo

As 15 palavras mais avançadas do vídeo, com pronúncia e significado:

PalavraPronúnciaSignificado
scream verbo/skɹiːm/gritar, berrar
shove verbo/ʃʌv/empurrar
bolt substantivo/boʊlt/parafuso
crawl verbo/kɹɔːl/rastejar
bookshelf substantivo/ˈbʊkˌʃɛlf/estante
keypad substantivo/ˈkiːpæd/teclado numérico
kidnap verbo/ˈkɪdnæp/sequestrar, raptar
restrain verbo/ɹɪˈstɹeɪn/conter, coibir
shriek verbo/ʃɹiːk/guinchar
stumble verbo/ˈstʌmbəl/tropeçar, topar
burner substantivo/ˈbɝnɚ/boca
rib substantivo/ɹɪb/costela
tilt verbo/tɪlt/inclinar
prank substantivo/pɹæŋk/travessura, trote
blink verbo/ˈblɪŋk/piscar

Phrasal verbs que você vai ouvir

PalavraPronúnciaSignificado
pull out verboretirar, retirar-se
find out verbodescobrir
get out verbosair
come out verbo/ˌkʌm ˈaʊt/sair, partir
fall apart verbocair aos pedaços
go back verbovoltar
head up verboencabeçar
pass out verbodistribuir

Frases que vale a pena repetir

Frases curtas e completas do vídeo que você pode usar na conversa do dia a dia:

  • 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?

Gramática neste vídeo

As estruturas que o falante mais usa, com as palavras exatas do vídeo:

EstruturaNo vídeo
Voz passiva be + particípio passado — o foco está no que acontece, não em quem fazwas done · being ignored · wasn't done
Present perfect have/has + particípio passado — uma ação passada que ainda importa agoraI've stopped · I've learned · I've eaten
Orações relativas who / which + oração — informação extra sobre uma pessoa ou coisafriend who had · person who it

Pronúncia para ficar de olho

O falante usa 66 contrações e formas reduzidas, como didn't, I'd, she'd. Diga-as na forma curta, do jeito que você ouve.

  • Os sons de “th”: thumb /ˈθʌm/, aesthetic /ɛsˈθɛ.tɪk/
  • Os sons de “sh” e “zh”: shove /ʃʌv/, bookshelf /ˈbʊkˌʃɛlf/, shriek /ʃɹiːk/, notification /ˌnoʊtɪfɪˈkeɪʃn̩/, scholarship /ˈskɑːləɹʃɪp/

Sons difíceis para falantes de português:

  • Consoante final — sem acrescentar um “i” depois: bolt /boʊlt/, keypad /ˈkiːpæd/, kidnap /ˈkɪdnæp/, shriek /ʃɹiːk/, yank /ˈjæŋk/
  • /l/ final — a língua toca o céu da boca, não vira “u”: crawl /kɹɔːl/, stumble /ˈstʌmbəl/, yell /jɛl/, scroll /skɹoʊl/, candle /ˈkæn.dəl/
  • /h/ — um sopro suave, diferente do “r”: hiss /hɪs/, heartbeat /ˈhɑɹtˌbit/, hallway /ˈhɔlˌweɪ/, hedge /ˈhɛd͡ʒ/, harmless /ˈhɑɹmləs/

Como praticar com este vídeo

  1. Ouça o vídeo inteiro uma vez sem falar e anote as palavras que você não conhece.
  2. Comece na velocidade 0,75×, faça shadowing frase por frase e volte à velocidade normal quando ficar fácil.
  3. Grave a sua voz e compare com o original, prestando atenção a palavras como scream, shove, bolt.

O que é a Técnica de Shadowing?

Shadowing é uma técnica de aprendizado de idiomas com base científica, originalmente desenvolvida para o treinamento de intérpretes profissionais. O método é simples, mas poderoso: você ouve áudio em inglês nativo e repete imediatamente em voz alta — como uma sombra seguindo o falante com 1-2 segundos de atraso. Pesquisas mostram melhora significativa na precisão da pronúncia, entonação, ritmo, sons conectados, compreensão auditiva e fluência na fala.

Técnica de shadowing: leia o guia completo passo a passo →