I was half terrified, half amused.
When Mr. Mack was 11 and abused by his priest, he felt half giddy and half terrified.
Margaret Thatcher, by comparison, was a divisive ingenue, of whom half the country was apprehensive and the other half terrified.
She touched him for the first time, just the pads of her fingertips to his skinny biceps — like a dog's muscle, it twitched madly — and he rose, half terrified, his neck a rush of crimson, and made off down the river.
As in many great ghost stories, the result is a tightly controlled narrative surface, with half-glimpsed, terrifying depths.
Half of the country is elated that it shook the political system, the other half is terrified, and many of us are just looking for answers.
Pearl Ryner's 14-year-old son, Khorri Silcott, who was 7 when he left the island, remembers half a dozen terrifying evacuations from the encroaching volcano before he and his grandmother could join his mother and uncle in New York.
But, half-blind, terrified, my ears ringing, sometimes rendered mute, sometimes the words stumbling off my twisted tongue, I still know Christmas.
Unable to come to terms, or even express, his sexuality, he lives in a shadowy half-world, terrified he will somehow reveal himself as gay while also longing for the men he sees on the street.
Half asleep and half hypnotized by a terrifying local commercial, I barely noticed him join me on the broken, taco-shaped futon.
