Prática de Shadowing: 4 True Baffling Horror Stories Animated - Aprenda a falar inglês com vídeo
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my name is lydia i'd been working the night shift at the anchor bar for eight months
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when derek first slid onto his usual stool at the end
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of the counter the place sat in a string of suburbs
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just outside the city i like the job i was good
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at it chatty quick with the pours always remembering what people drank.
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My mom always told me I was very attractive.
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Guys noticed.
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They always did.
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Derek noticed more than most.
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He worked odd jobs, he said, something with deliveries.
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He was quiet at first.
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He'd order a bourbon, neat, and watch me move between customers.
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One slow Tuesday after the last stragglers left, he finally spoke up while I cashed out.
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Lydia, you've got this way about you I've been coming in here thinking about asking you out for weeks Dinner?
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My treat?
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I know a great steak place I wiped the bar in slow circles That's sweet, Derek, but I don't date customers Thanks,
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though He smiled like I'd just agreed Come on, I see how you look at me when you pour my drink We've got something here
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i laughed it off and locked the register seriously i'm not interested have a good night
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he stayed until the lights flicked off anyway
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that became the pattern every shift i worked he planted himself
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there until closing two weeks later i pulled a rare day
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shift covering for a sick co -worker i left at six drove the 20 minutes back to the suburbs
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that i'd shared with my housemate, Violet, and spotted his truck in my rear view the whole way.
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He didn't even try to hide it.
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The next day, I ran errands.
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First, the corner store for milk and eggs.
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Derek was in the aisle pretending to study cereal boxes.
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Hey, Lydia, funny running into you here.
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Then the grocery store.
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Same thing.
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Him pushing a cart with nothing in it.
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That night, I went to a club with some bar staff friends.
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He appeared on the dance floor behind me.
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You changed your mind yet?
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He whispered in my ear.
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I know you want this as bad as I do.
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I spun around.
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Derek, leave me alone.
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I said no. He just grinned.
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You're playing hard to get.
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It's cute.
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At work, he grew bolder.
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He'd follow me from the bar to the stockroom, lingering in the tiny hallway while I grabbed bottles.
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I love watching you, he muttered once, loud enough for the kitchen guy to hear.
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I told the bouncers.
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Big Mike and Carlo started blocking him at the door after that.
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Guy's not welcome anymore, Mike said, arms crossed.
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You good, Lydia?
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Yeah, just creepy.
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So Derek waited outside instead.
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I'd finish at 3 a .m., step into the parking lot, and there he'd be across the street under the streetlight, smoking, staring.
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Some nights he followed my car halfway home before peeling off.
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Violet noticed first.
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We'd been roommates for two years, splitting a small rental with a backyard that backed up into a quiet lane.
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One evening, she came home early from her waitressing gig and found me pacing the kitchen.
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He's everywhere.
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The stores, the club, outside the bar till all hours.
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I swear he's lying about everything.
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Told me last week we owned the dance floor at a party.
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I've never even been to a party with him.
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You need to document this s*.
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Photos, times, everything.
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He started leaving notes on my windshield.
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One read, I dream about tying you up.
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You'd like it.
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I crumpled it up and threw it away, stomach turning.
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The night it broke was a Saturday.
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I closed the bar and I drove home exhausted.
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Violet was already asleep.
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At around 2 .30, I heard her scream from the hallway, Lydia, get up!
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There's someone at your window!
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I bolted out of bed.
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Violet was at the back door, phone in hand, flashlight on.
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We crept into the yard together.
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Derek was crouched right outside my bedroom window.
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He hadn't even noticed the light yet.
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His face was slack, eyes fixed on my empty bed inside.
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Jesus Christ, Violet whispered.
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That's creepy.
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Thank you.
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I felt bile rise.
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We backed inside fast.
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She locked the door and dialed the cops while I shook on the couch.
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The officer who showed up took my stack of notes and the times that I'd logged.
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This is textbook stalking.
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We'll pick him up.
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They arrested him the next morning.
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Derek told them that I'd invited him over.
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That we had an open thing.
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Lies piled on lies.
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At the preliminary hearing, he sat in court in a wrinkled button -down, eyes locked on me the whole time.
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The judge asked if he had anything to say before the restraining order.
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Derek stood.
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Your Honor, Lydia has been leading me on for months.
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She flirted every shift, told me she liked when guys watched her.
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I was only giving her what she wanted.
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Hell, I even brought her panties I found in her laundry once.
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Thought she'd be into the surprise.
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We've got a connection.
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She just won't admit it yet.
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My lawyer jumped up.
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This is exactly why we need the order, Your Honor.
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The defendant has admitted to trespassing, theft, and non -consensual acts on her property.
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The judge granted the full order.
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Derek couldn't come within 500 feet of me, my home, or the bar.
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He looked stunned when the gavel came down.
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Like the rules didn't apply to him.
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I didn't sleep well for weeks after.
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I packed my things two months later, quit the bar, told the owner it was time for a change.
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I found a new job, bartending at a quieter place three hours up the coast in a different town.
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New apartment, new number, new everything.
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Violet helped me load up the U -Haul.
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You did the right thing, she said, hugging me hard.
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That guy was unhinged.
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The way he lied in court, the s* he did at your window.
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Nobody should have to live like that.
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I drove away with the radio low and the windows down, the warm air whipping through the car.
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For the first time in months, I didn't check the mirrors every five seconds.
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i sat across from jamie at the small kitchen table in our apartment watching him scroll through his phone with
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that tight set to his jaw he got whenever the numbers looked bad
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he owned several businesses every single one of them deep in
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the red the first was an artisanal bakery he had opened downtown with high ceilings
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and exposed brick the oven stayed cold more often than not because the foot traffic never matched the rent.
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The second was a subscription -based meal prep service he had launched with glossy photos and influencer posts.
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After the initial surge of signups, cancellations piled up until the kitchen staff dwindled to one part -timer and a pile of unpaid invoices.
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Both ventures leak money every month, and the others were no better.
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He needed cash again.
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A few days earlier, he mentioned a representative from a mid -tier restaurant franchise who was flying in.
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Jamie wanted another loan from me, $10 ,000 this time.
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I had already given him money twice before.
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Still, I said yes.
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I always did.
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He arranged dinner at a place with white tablecloths and soft lighting, the kind of restaurant where the wine list ran longer than the menu.
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Julian arrived five minutes early.
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He was taller than jamie early 30s with the quiet confidence
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of someone who didn't need to fill silence we ordered drinks
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conversation stayed polite until jamie excused himself from the restroom julian
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leaned in slightly my family is originally from greece my parents still speak greek at home when they argue
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i smile my father worked in greece for five years he
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used to talk about the light there How it made everything look older and newer at the same time.
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We talked easily after that.
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He asked questions and actually waited for the answers.
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I told him about the summers my father had spent near the coast, and somehow we ended up on food.
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I mentioned a moussica recipe my father had brought back.
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The way the eggplant needed to be salted and drained properly or the whole dish turned watery.
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Jamie returned while I was still explaining the layering.
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He dropped into his chair harder than necessary.
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Alex came here to talk about business he said using the
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wrong name on purpose not some dumb recipe then he looked at Julian
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and added sorry about
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that she talks a lot about useless anecdotes my face went
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hot I felt the flush climb my neck Julian's expression didn't change much but his voice stayed even Well,
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personally, Jamie, I care about a recipe because I like that.
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The rest of the meal stretched out in stiff sentences.
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Jamie pushed the franchise numbers.
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Julian asked careful questions and took notes on his phone.
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When the check came, Jamie paid with a card I knew was close to its limit.
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Outside on the sidewalk, Julian shook my hand longer than necessary and said he would be in touch.
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Two days later, the email arrived.
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The franchise application was declined.
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Jamie read it out loud at the kitchen table, then looked at me.
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You had to keep talking.
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You had to make it weird.
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He was perfectly ready to move forward until you started with those stupid stories.
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I tried to apologize.
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The guilt sat in my chest.
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That night, I lay awake and started replaying other evenings.
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Family gatherings where Jamie would appear at my shoulder the second I laughed with one of his cousins.
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Business dinners where he would cut me off mid -sentence and apologize for me afterward.
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The pattern had been there the whole time.
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I had simply refused to name it.
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I waited three more days before I brought it up.
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We were in the living room.
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I sat on the edge of the couch so I could stand if I needed to.
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Jamie, I've been thinking about us.
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Whenever I talk to anyone, you hover.
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Your family, your partners, strangers, and the way you speak to me in front of them, calling what I say useless.
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It's constant.
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I'm honestly thinking of leaving because I don't feel respected.
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Jamie laughed once, short and sharp.
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You won't leave.
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You need the attention.
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You need me telling you you're beautiful and then fixing whatever mess you make when you open your stupid mouth.
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I stayed quiet.
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He kept going.
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I grew up watching my father do the same thing to my mother every night he told me
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if a woman doesn't have her own opinions
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if she leans on you for everything she never walks out that's how you keep them the silence after
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that felt like the air had been sucked out of the
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room i stood up i'm done we're finished he didn't try to stop me
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that night i packed a bag
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and slept at a friend's place the next morning i called julian partly to apologize for the dinner,
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and partly because I couldn't stop thinking about the way he defended me without raising his voice.
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We met for coffee, then dinner, then another dinner.
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He never once interrupted me.
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When I told him what Jamie had said about his father, Julian simply nodded and said, that explains a lot, but it doesn't excuse it.
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Jamie found out we were seeing each other.
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The first text was almost calm.
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The second one was not.
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He wrote that he would make sure Julian knew every private thing I had ever told him.
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That he would call the franchise company and invent stories.
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That he would ruin whatever new life I thought I was building.
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I blocked the number.
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The next day I changed my phone and told only three people the new digits.
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Julian and I kept seeing each other.
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One evening he cooked the Musica the way I had described it.
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And we ate on his balcony with the city lights below us He asked
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if I wanted to talk about Jamie I said no Then I said yes I told him everything The loans,
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the hovering, the final speech about how to keep a woman from leaving Julian listened without offering solutions You already left,
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that's the part
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that matters Months later the bakery was gone The meal prep service had vanished from the app stores
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and Jamie had stopped trying to contact anyone who still spoke to me.
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I never learned whether the threats had been empty or whether Julian had simply chosen not to believe them.
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I stopped needing the answer.
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I stood on the porch that afternoon in late summer, watching Mia show up with her hand wrapped in a blood -soaked towel.
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Ten years we'd lived on Maplewood Lane, Our kids, Emily and Jake, were inside doing homework.
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I had the grill fired up for burgers.
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Normal stuff.
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Until it wasn't.
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Mike, the dog got me.
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Beth's friend's dog.
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The big one she always brings over.
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I met her halfway down the walk, heart already hammering.
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What the hell happened?
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Let me see.
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She unwrapped the towel.
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Four deep punctures across the back of her hand, still oozing.
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The skin around them was already swelling purple.
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I was taking the trash out.
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The dog was loose in their backyard again.
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Beth wasn't even there.
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Her friend Tina was supposed to be watching it.
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It just came at me.
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No warning.
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I tried to back away, but it lunged and clamped down.
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Tina came running out yelling that I must have provoked it.
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I helped her inside, called the kids to stay upstairs for a minute.
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In the kitchen, I ran cold water over the wounds while she winced.
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We're going to the ER right now.
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Did you get pictures?
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She nodded.
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Phone's in my pocket.
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But Tina was already on her phone calling Beth and Monica.
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They weren't even there when it happened, Mike.
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Not a single one of them
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and yet I heard her on the phone spinning it like I walked up and stuck my hand in the dog's mouth.
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We spent four hours at urgent care.
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The doctor said the bite had nicked a nerve.
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Permanent damage, numbness in two fingers, weakness in her grip that would never fully come back.
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Mia was a project manager.
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Typing, shaking hands, holding a pen, all of it would hurt now.
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She didn't cry in front of the kids that night.
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She waited until we were in bed, lights off, and then her shoulders shook against my chest.
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I've lived here ten years.
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Ten goddamn years of block parties and watching their kids grow up.
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And they're going to lie about this?
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The next morning the text started.
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First from Beth.
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Heard what happened.
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So sorry, but Tina says your wife startled the dog.
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She's really shaken up too.
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Then Monica chimed in on the group chat we all still pretended to be part of.
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Dogs react to body language.
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Maybe Mia should be more careful next time.
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I read them out loud to Mia while she tried to butter toast one -handed.
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They weren't even there.
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Not one of them.
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But they've already got their story straight.
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Two days later, the official version landed in our mailbox.
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An anonymous letter typed on plain paper.
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Your wife's aggressive behavior toward neighborhood pets is unacceptable.
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We all saw how she treats animals.
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The dog was only defending itself.
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Mia read it at the kitchen island and laughed once, sharp and bitter.
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Aggressive?
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Aggressive?
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I feed the stray cat behind the garage every morning.
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They've seen me do it.
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that's
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when the real started our dog Buster a harmless golden retriever
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who had never left our yard started getting out first time
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I found him two streets over tail wagging no collar I brought him home
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and checked the gate latched second time Mia caught Monica's husband
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Dave closing our side gate behind him hey she called from the back door what the hell are you doing
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Dave didn't even flinch your dog was out again uh figured
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I'd do you a favor before he got hit by a car
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and maybe keep him secured huh Mia walked right up to
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the fence line our dog doesn't get out Dave someone's opening the gate
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and we both know it's not the wind he shrugged paranoid much which, maybe you two should lay off the drama.
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Old Street's talking about how you're harassing Tina about that bite.
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Let it go already.
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We weren't harassing anyone.
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We'd filed the police report, sure.
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Animal control came out, cited Tina for the loose dog, but that was it.
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The neighborhood turned anyway.
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Rumors started flying.
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At the mailbox one afternoon, old Mrs. Bennett from two doors down actually crossed the street to avoid me.
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Later, I heard from our friend down the block that Monica had told everyone Mia was unstable.
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That she screamed at the kids in the yard and once threw a rock at a squirrel.
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Jake came home from school crying because some kid said
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that his mom was the crazy dog lady who got what she deserved.
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Emily, our 13 -year -old, took it hardest.
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She'd always been tight with Monica's daughter.
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One night at dinner, she pushed her plate away.
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Mom, why does Hannah say you're a bad person?
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She said you tried to get their dog put down because you hate dogs.
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Mia set her fork down carefully with her good hand.
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Because they're protecting their friend, baby.
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And sometimes adults lie when they're scared of consequences.
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But we know the truth.
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That's what matters.
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Jake, 11, and still believing the world was mostly fair, looked between us.
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Can't we just move?
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I hate it here now.
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I wanted to tell him it wasn't that simple.
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We'd sunk everything into this house.
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Ten years of memories.
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First bikes in the driveway, backyard campouts, Mia planting those damn roses along the fence.
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But the letters kept coming.
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Three more in the next month, each meaner.
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One called Mia a nasty woman who thinks she's better than everyone.
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Another said our kids were neglected because their mother's too busy stirring up trouble.
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Then the real gut punch arrived at Mia's office.
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She came home early that Friday, cheeks flushed, eyes red.
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I was working from home and I met her in the garage.
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they sent a letter to my boss monica had to be her told him i have a aggressive attitude
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that i might undermine team's morale said i don't shower for days
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that my hygiene is noticeable and distracting claimed i snap at people over nothing
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that i've been emotionally erratic since the dog bite and and maybe i'm not fit for client -facing work anymore
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I stared at her.
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Hygiene?
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You take two showers a day.
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You're the most put -together person I know.
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Apparently, I stink of desperation and resentment.
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Direct quote.
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My boss pulled me in and showed me the letter.
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He said he didn't believe it.
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We sat on the back deck that night after the kids were asleep, sharing a bottle of wine we couldn't really afford I built
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that career from nothing late nights missed soccer game all of it
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and some bitter woman who barely knows me is trying to torch it
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because her friend's dog messed up my hand I took her good hand in mine we'll fight it
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but fighting took energy we didn't have any more.
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The neighborhood watch emails excluded us.
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People stared in the grocery store.
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Dave let Buster out twice more in one week.
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I installed a camera on the gate, but they must have figured it out.
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Nothing showed up on tape after that.
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Just Buster somehow loose again.
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That's when we decided.
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Sold the house in three weeks.
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Cash offer from a young couple who loved the roses.
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We didn't tell the neighbors until the moving truck was in the driveway.
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Monica actually had the nerve to walk over while I was loading boxes.
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Leaving so soon?
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She asked, arms crossed, that fake concerned smile plastered on.
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After everything we've been through as a street?
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Mia stepped out of the garage, still wearing her work blouse, hair pulled back tight.
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Cut the s*, Monica.
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We know it was you with the letter to my boss.
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We know you've been opening our gate.
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And we know what happened at your last job.
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Monica's smile faltered.
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Excuse me?
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I'd done some digging a week earlier after a mutual acquaintance from the PTA let something slip.
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Turns out Monica had been let go from her corporate gig six months before the dog bite.
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I laid it out right there on the lawn.
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You made a move on that married guy in accounting, right?
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Sent him texts after happy hour?
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Showed up at his desk when he worked late, alone?
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Told him his wife didn't appreciate him the way you could?
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When he shut it down, politely, from what I hear, you flipped the script.
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Told HR he'd been harassing you.
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That he made you feel unsafe.
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Cried in the meeting.
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Played the victim card hard.
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But someone had screenshots.
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The whole chain.
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You got walked out the same day.
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Monica's face went blotchy red.
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That's a lie.
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He was obsessed with me.
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I had to protect myself.
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Mia laughed once, cold.
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Funny how you always protect yourself by destroying everyone else.
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The dog bite, the letters, the rumors.
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The same person who tried to screw a colleague and then cried foul when he said no. Pathetic.
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Dave came jogging over from their yard, looking confused.
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Everything okay?
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Peachy, Nia said.
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We're leaving your toxic little circle.
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Enjoy the house.
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Hope the next family doesn't have a wife who expects basic human decency.
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Monica sputtered.
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You think you're so perfect?
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Your husband's the one who I cut her off.
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Save it.
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Moving truck's waiting.
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We're done here.
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We drove away that afternoon with the kids in the back seat.
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Buster between them.
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New house keys in the cup holder.
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The neighborhood shrank in the rearview mirror.
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Ten years of barbecues and holiday lights and fake smiles.
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Emily asked, are we going to be okay, dad?
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I glanced at Mia.
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She was already typing one -handed on her laptop, finalizing the transfer to her new team at a different company.
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She looked up and smiled for the first time in months.
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Real this time.
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Yeah, kiddo, I said.
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Better than okay.
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Your mom's tougher than all of them combined.
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We unpacked in the new place, a place 30 miles away.
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Bigger yard.
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Friendlier neighbors who brought over cookies instead of poison pen letters.
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Mia's hand still ached when it rained.
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And sometimes she woke up clenching her fist against phantom teeth.
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But the numbness didn't define her.
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She got a promotion six months later.
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The kids made new friends.
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We planted new roses.
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The night it happened, I had been awake until nearly two.
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Punched over practice exams at the kitchen table with a cold cup of coffee
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and a highlighter that had long since dried out.
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My eyes burned.
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Every time I closed them, I saw the same page of statistics six numbers swimming.
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Martin had shown up at around midnight with a duffel bag
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and that half -apologetic look that he always wore when he needed a place to crash.
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We weren't together anymore, not really, but the lease on his new place had fallen through and he still had a key.
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I didn't have the energy to argue.
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I left him on the couch and I went to bed.
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The house was quiet except the distant hum of the refrigerator.
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I remember drifting off with the taste of anxiety still sharp in my mouth.
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Then I was outside.
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I stood barefoot in the backyard.
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The grass felt damp under my feet.
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Everything beyond the fence line was black, the kind of black that swallows sound.
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The only light came from the left, Mrs. Keller's driveway lamp, the one she never turned off.
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It threw a hard yellow cone across the shared fence and onto the side of her house.
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I heard something first.
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A scrape.
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And then a muffled cry that didn't sound human.
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I moved toward the fence without deciding to.
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Two figures were at her side door.
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Both were dark hoods and masks that covered everything except the eyes.
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One of them had Mrs. Keller by the upper arms.
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She was thrashing, but the second man clamped a gloved hand over her mouth and the thrashing stopped.
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They were dragging her toward a dark van that hadn't been there a second earlier.
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I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
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One of the men turned his head.
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The eyes behind the mask locked on me.
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Dead.
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Flat.
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And then he dropped Mrs. Keller's legs and came over the fence in one smooth motion.
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I spun and ran for the back door.
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My legs felt heavy, like I was pushing through water.
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I hit the door hard with my shoulder and stumbled into the kitchen.
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The man was already behind me.
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His arm locked around my waist and lifted me clean off the floor.
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The other hand slammed over my mouth so hard, my teeth cut the inside of my lip.
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The scream I finally forced out died against his palm.
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I could smell the rubber of the mask.
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His eyes never left mine.
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They didn't blink.
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I kicked and twisted with everything I had.
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My body refused.
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Every muscle locked.
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I was awake inside the paralysis, fully conscious, fully terrified, and completely unable to move.
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Time stretched.
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I counted heartbeats.
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One, two, ten, twenty.
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The pressure of his hand stayed constant.
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The dead stare stayed constant.
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Somewhere past the two -minute mark, my left shoulder twitched.
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And then my hip, the lock, began to crack.
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I made a sound, half sob and half growl, and I forced my jaw open against his palm.
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The noise that came out was still muffled, still wrong, but louder.
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I rocked my body side to side.
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The arm around my waist loosened a fraction.
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I threw my weight backward and I felt the grip break.
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My arm shot upward on pure instinct.
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The first thing they hit was solid, warm, real Martin's face.
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I felt the impact travel up through my knuckles into my wrist.
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He staggered back with a sharp surprise yell.
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The kitchen light was on.
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Martin had one hand pressed over his left eye.
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Jesus Christ, Lucy!
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His voice cracked.
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What the f*?
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I couldn't speak yet.
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My throat felt raw.
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The backyard was still there behind my eyes.
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The black.
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The yellow light.
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The mask.
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The dead stare.
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I kept looking past him toward the door as if the man might still come through it.
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Martin lowered his hand.
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The skin under his eye was already swelling, a dark bloom spreading.
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You were making these noises, like you were trying to scream with your mouth shut.
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Your eyes were open the whole time, wide open, looking right at me.
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But you weren't seeing me.
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You weren't moving.
503
I shook you.
504
I said your name.
505
Nothing.
506
There were two of them.
507
They had Mrs. Keller.
508
One of them came after me.
509
He stared.
510
What?
511
In the backyard.
512
Masks.
513
They were taking her.
514
He grabbed me.
515
I couldn't move.
516
I couldn't.
517
Lucy.
518
He said my name like it was an accusation.
519
You were in bed.
520
You never left the room.
521
I was sitting right here on the edge of the mattress trying to wake you up.
522
I looked down.
523
My feet were clean.
524
No grass.
525
No dirt.
526
The tank top stuck to my back with sweat.
527
I hit you, I said.
528
Yeah, yeah, you did.
529
He touched the swelling again and winced.
530
Hard.
531
I could still feel the pressure of the gloved hand over my mouth.
532
My arms ached from the force of the swing.
533
Martin walked to the sink, ran cold water over a dish towel and pressed it to his eye.
534
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but colder.
535
This isn't the first time, is it?
536
I shook my head.
537
How long?
538
Three months.
539
Maybe four.
540
They started after I began studying for the entrance exams.
541
At first, it was just the paralysis.
542
Then the dreams got specific.
543
He didn't look at me, and he didn't think maybe you should tell someone, or see a doctor, or at least not have me sleeping three feet away
544
while you're living out some horror movie every night?
545
I didn't know it would be this bad.
546
You punched me in the face, Lucy.
547
I was trying to help you i was right there
548
and you looked straight through me like i was the one
549
attacking you i i know i'm sorry he dropped the towel on the sink i'm leaving martin no i'm done
550
he grabbed the duffel bag from the floor i can't do this i i can't wake up every night wondering
551
if you're gonna come at me again
552
because some imaginary guy in a mask is chasing you i
553
have enough problems he walked past me toward the front door i followed as far as the hallway It felt real.
554
It always feels real.
555
He stopped with his hand on the knob, but he didn't turn around.
556
That's the problem.
557
The door closed harder than it needed to.
558
I heard his car start, then the engine fade down the street.
559
I stood in the hallway for a long time.
560
The house felt larger without him in it.
561
I went to the kitchen window and I looked out at the backyard.
562
Mrs. Keller's driveway light was still on, throwing that same hard yellow cone across the fence.
563
Nothing moved.
564
No van, no figures.
565
Just the ordinary dark.
566
I checked the lock on the back door twice.
567
And then I went to the bathroom and I looked at myself in the mirror.
568
My lip was swollen on the inside.
569
There was a faint red mark across my cheek where the pressure of the hand had been.
570
My eyes still looked too wide.
571
I didn't sleep the rest of the night.
572
I sat at the kitchen table with the practice exams in front of me and the highlighter in my hand, but I never uncapped it.
573
Every time the refrigerator clicked on, I flinched.
574
Once, I thought I heard a scrape against the fence, and I stood up so fast that the chair fell over.
575
It was only a branch.
576
In the morning, I walked over to Mrs. Keller's.
577
She answered the door in her robe, coffee in hand, perfectly fine.
578
She asked if I was alright.
579
I said I was.
580
She smiled and said that the light had been acting up again, flickering sometimes, but she'd leave it on anyway because she liked the way it made the driveway feel safer.
581
I went to work that day.
582
No one asked about the bruise starting to form on my knuckles.
583
I sat through meetings and I answered emails and I studied for the exams on my lunch break like nothing had changed.
584
But something had.
585
The night terrors didn't stop.
586
They shifted.
587
Sometimes the masked men were still in the backyard.
588
Sometimes they were already inside the house when I opened my eyes.
589
Sometimes the dead stare belonged to Martin instead.
590
I learned to sleep with the lights on and a chair wedged under the doorknob.
591
I never invited anyone to stay over again.
592
Months later, I passed the entrance exams.
593
I moved into a smaller apartment closer to campus.
594
The first night there, I lay awake listening to new sounds pipes, neighbors, traffic and I just waited for the paralysis to take me.
595
When it finally did, the men were waiting.
596
Same masks, same eyes.
597
But this time, when I fought my way out of it, the only person I hurt was myself.
598
My nails left crescent marks in my own palms.
599
I still think about that night with Martin.
600
I keep the back door locked, I keep the lights on, and I never sleep facing the window.
601
Thank you.
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Vocabulário e dicas de fala para esta lição
Este vídeo tem 601 frases e 5421 palavras para praticar shadowing. A fala dura 35:12. O falante fala em ritmo natural, cerca de 154 palavras por minuto, próximo de uma conversa do dia a dia. Apenas 78% das palavras estão entre as 3.000 mais comuns do inglês, por isso o vocabulário é exigente.
Vocabulário principal deste vídeo
15 palavras do vídeo que vale a pena aprender, com pronúncia e significado:
| Palavra | Pronúncia | Significado |
|---|---|---|
| fence substantivo | /fɛns/ | cerca |
| backyard substantivo | /bækˈjɑːd/ | quintal |
| mask substantivo | /mæsk/ | máscara |
| stare verbo | /stɛɚ/ | fitar, encarar |
| gate substantivo | /ˈɡeɪ̯t/ | portão |
| shake verbo | /ˈʃeɪk/ | sacudir, agitar |
| bite verbo | /baɪt/ | morder |
| sharp adjetivo | /ʃɑɹp/ | afiado, aguçado |
| aggressive adjetivo | /əˈɡɹɛs.ɪv/ | agressivo |
| franchise substantivo | /ˈfɹænt͡ʃaɪ̯z/ | concessão |
| awake verbo | /əˈweɪk/ | acordar, despertar |
| scream verbo | /skɹiːm/ | gritar, berrar |
| towel substantivo | /ˈtaʊ̯əl/ | toalha |
| meal substantivo | /ˈmiːl/ | refeição |
| punch substantivo | /pʌnt͡ʃ/ | murro, soco |
Phrasal verbs que você vai ouvir
| Palavra | Pronúncia | Significado |
|---|---|---|
| come out verbo | /ˌkʌm ˈaʊt/ | sair, partir |
| get out verbo | sair | |
| grow up verbo | crescer | |
| hand over verbo | entregar, transferir | |
| stand up verbo | levantar | |
| come back verbo | voltar | |
| fall over verbo | cair (sobre), tombar (sobre) | |
| find out verbo | descobrir |
Pronúncia para ficar de olho
O falante usa 110 contrações e formas reduzidas, como didn't, I'd, you're. Diga-as na forma curta, do jeito que você ouve.
- Os sons de “th”: smooth /smuːð/, throat /ˈθɹoʊt/, theft /θɛft/
- Os sons de “sh” e “zh”: shake /ˈʃeɪk/, sharp /ʃɑɹp/, garage /ɡəˈɹɑʒ/, dish /dɪʃ/, trash /tɹæʃ/
- Palavras longas — acerte a sílaba tônica: apologize /əˈpɑləˌd͡ʒaɪz/, refrigerator /ɹɪˈfɹɪd͡ʒ.əˌɹeɪ.tɚ/, anxiety /æŋˈzaɪ.əti/, ordinary /ˈɔɹdɪnɛɹi/, anonymous /əˈnɒn.ə.məs/
Como praticar com este vídeo
- Ouça o vídeo inteiro uma vez sem falar e anote as palavras que você não conhece.
- Comece na velocidade 0,75×, faça shadowing frase por frase e volte à velocidade normal quando ficar fácil.
- Grave a sua voz e compare com o original, prestando atenção a palavras como fence, backyard, mask.
Gramática neste vídeo
As estruturas que o falante mais usa, com as palavras exatas do vídeo:
| Estrutura | No vídeo |
|---|---|
| Present perfect continuous have/has been + -ing — uma ação que começou antes e continua | I've been coming · has been leading · I've been thinking |
| Voz passiva be + particípio passado — o foco está no que acontece, não em quem faz | was crouched · was unhinged · be salted |
| Present perfect have/has + particípio passado — uma ação passada que ainda importa agora | I've never even been · has admitted · I've lived |
| Orações relativas who / which + oração — informação extra sobre uma pessoa ou coisa | someone who didn · anyone who still · woman who thinks |
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.