EAPFOX
11-29-2012, 05:55 PM
Hello, My name is Joey. I'm new to this forum but i've posted my literary work on other websites such as Poet Sanctuary.
This piece is called "Starting Over." I wrote it for my college fiction writing class. Hope you enjoy, please leave comments!
My parents could never stay in one place for long. I liked our city view of Chicago. I could always see people going to work, coming home, or running errands. It was a cozy home. The red brick fireplace gave it a warm feeling. My room, of course, was the best in the house. The sun rays beamed into my eyes at precisely 8:00 am every morning to wake me. The walls were half white on top, and navy on the bottom. The bamboo wood floors would make deep ticking noises when mother came home in her heels. But not anymore, not since my sister and I were dragged out of the only home we’ve ever loved. Dad had gotten a new job almost as far south east that the USA could go. He didn’t really ask us if it was okay that we moved, he more so demanded it.
Looking out the car window at our building was difficult. Driving away I could feel a pain trickle down my body, it must be my sense of security fading. I couldn’t help but wish this was all a dream. We pulled out of the city and waved goodbye at our old home. Highway stretched on for long hours and you could see mirages on the street that looked like water. As we drove you could tell we went from a cold climate to a scorching one. The transition could only be described as a cold winter being twisted into a sandy steaming desert.
At last, we arrived, the city was called West Palm Beach. It looked less than promising with tall palm trees scattered everywhere. You couldn’t walk ten feet without running into another one. Our new house didn’t look as atrocious as I had hoped. I had wished the house was nauseating so there could have been a legitimate reason to complain, with enough effort I could have gotten them to move back. That hope quickly faded because the new house on Bella Domingo Drive was vibrant. It was golden yellow like the sun on a scorching hot day. Two stories tall and a porch that kept cool even the hottest of days. I walked in to find cascading red drapes along full glass sliding doors, chandeliers of crystals gleaming from sunlight through the circle headed windows. I proceeded up the stairs and heard a faint creak; ignoring the sound I entered my new room. It was dark, the blinds were shut and there was an odor, a sort of mothball smell filled the room. As if no one had ventured into this place for a long time. I opened the windows and the smell seemed to exhaust. I didn’t very much like my new room. It wasn’t as comfortable as my previous one and definitely didn’t feel inviting.
“Siss” I called out. “Yeah?” came a voice from the room adjacent. “How do you like your room?” “It’s alright, a little scary though.. I miss home.” She said in a cracked voice”, “Me too”. Noise erupted from outside, you could hear the jolly of other children playing sports. I had seen them on the drive in, although I was too embarrassed to say hello. I forked up the courage to go outside and make acquaintance with my new neighbors. For some reason the closer I got, the further they went. After fifteen minutes of trying I gave up and went back inside. I couldn’t comprehend why they wouldn’t try and talk to me; I guess it’s all part of being new on the block.
The night started out particularly uneventful. Mother made a meatloaf that was pretty damn delicious. She uses a meat sauce that tastes delectable. With a side of baked potatoes, it was an amazing dinner. Everything seemed normal as if we had not moved out of our old home, as if the past five years in Chicago never happened. After dinner I headed upstairs and heard the same creak I had heard upon entering the house. This time I listened closely and what I heard shocked me. The creak, when listened to closely, sounded more like a scream. I moved my foot back and forth to reenact the noise. It sounded as if a woman was being tortured. Afraid, I called to my sister and had her come to listen. When she arrived though, the screaming agony stopped. The floor creaked no more, and my sister told me I must be imagining things. But I knew what I had heard; I knew the faint screaming of torture couldn’t have been only in my head. I went to my room and laid down in my bed, I couldn’t force my eyes to shut, they stayed wide open as if they were glued that way. I stared at the ceiling for at least 2 hours then, finally, dozed off.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my new alarm clock. The sun didn’t rise on my side of the house anymore and I would have to get used to the annoying sound of sirens. Today is supposed to be my first day at Santa Domingo High School. I’m not really looking forward to it. The internet had some comments about the school. Mostly good, after all we did move to a good neighborhood. I entered my first class and I could already see fingers pointing and whispers start to engulf the silence. There was an empty seat near the back of the room. I sat next to a boy with straight brown hair that came down to his shoulders. I leaned over and asked his name and he hesitantly responded “I’m... Nick...” This had been the first time someone in this town had bothered to say a word to me and I was a bit shocked. “I’m Henry”, I replied. He gave me a sort of slanted smile then class began and he quickly dismissed me. After an hour of history lecture the teacher finally stopped and said “You may now talk amongst yourselves.” Great, no one bothered to talk to me anyway. To my surprise though, Nick leaned over and began to speak. “So… Henry. What was it like?” Bewildered, I asked “what was what like?” He replied, “Spending a night in that house of course…” I still didn’t understand what he meant and with my blank expression he continued on. “That house, it’s haunted… everyone in the neighborhood knows.” Shocked, I didn’t know how to respond, so he continued speaking again. “The owners were lawyers, a woman and a man, they had no kids. One night they got home and the door was open. They went into the house to grab the phone and call the cops when the door shut behind them. Three men in masks grabbed them and took them into their room upstairs. They dragged the woman up the stairs by her hair as she let out screams of agony and pain. The husband was brutally beaten and murdered before the wife ever made it up.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “The house is marked with blood and is forever haunted by their ghosts. That’s why everyone points at you, that’s why everyone is afraid… No one has entered that house in years.”
During the unbelievable story I was hearing, two more kids came up to Nick and I and listened intently. They introduced themselves as Lauren and Jake. Nick continued by asking “How was it there? How was spending the night? Can you see the ghosts?” All these questions but I had no answers for them. “I don’t believe in ghosts” I told them. “The house is perfectly normal and I’m here aren’t I? There are no ghosts, it can’t be haunted”. They were taken back at my reply, and I slid down into my seat. My mind directed at only one thing, the creak in the floor. Was it possible that I had heard the screams of the woman who was butchered? Was it possible that there could actually be some sort of ghostly presence in the house? I snapped myself out of contemplation; there was no way that this was true.
When school ended I took my time walking back home. I observed the scenery, the trees swayed blissfully in summer wind. This truly was a beautiful place. Nearing my house, I had an idea that I should investigate. I walked onto the porch and inspected it thoroughly. It was a normal porch that had no indications of any struggle in the years passed, no scratches on the floor, just perfectly laid wood and beautiful landscaping. I walked inside to see my mother cleaning, she was always cleaning. I asked her if she had seen or heard anything unusual today. All I got in return was an odd look, and then she continued cleaning. I walked up the stairs very carefully; I was becoming more cautious since I heard the story from Nick earlier. I got to my room and still haven’t heard a thing. I started to believe that it was all in my head until the sun went down and it started to get dark. I put on the reading lamp and started doing my homework. I was writing about why King Henry IV was such a powerful ruler and then a brief cold wind slid softly down my back. I turned around and saw that the window was still closed just as I had left it, and the air conditioning wasn’t running. I began to panic, I could tell it was happening again, this time instead of a woman screaming I heard a loud groan, an ache, it sounded desperate, as if this gasp was close to their last. I looked around and saw nothing. I ran like a speed jet to the closet and opened it, nothing but my clothes sat in there. The bed was my next choice, I looked under and found nothing but boxes unopened from the move. Then again, another loud moan of pain erupted. There was a cold chill sent down my spine and I couldn’t control my shaking. A vision of a bloody face came through the dark wall. A piercing white ghostly figure emerged from the paint and was walking straight at me. I was pinned up against the wall thinking there was nothing I could do to stop this. The bloody white ghostly figure continued to walk towards me, the cold essence of death following in his tracts. A butcher knife and scythe clutched in either hand, moaning, loudly as he walked. The ghost took a clean swipe with the scythe and I ducked down. I could feel the rubble fall onto my back from the newly formed gash in the wall. I looked up, still crouching and saw the bloody butcher knife coming straight for my face. It seemed to have moved in slow motion, what should have taken seconds, seemed to take minutes. I closed my eyes and tried to accept what was about to happen within the next few seconds. A loud crash, a soft moan, I opened my eyes and there was nothing but my empty room. The dark walls still there, I turned around to see the gash but it was gone, there had been no sign of the event ever happening. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. Had this really happened, or was my mind playing tricks on me? I was breathing frantically and I couldn’t control my emotions. My pounding heart getting stronger and louder with every beat, my stomach in knots and my eyes seemed to have the image of this ghost burned into them. I ran downstairs as quick as I could and grabbed the phone. I had 91 dialed in but before I pressed the last number I took a deep breath. I had started to calm down and started thinking to myself again. There was no way this was true, I don’t believe in supernatural I don’t believe in ghosts! The second I said that, he appeared again. This time he was angrier than before. His eyes were blood red with rage as he charged at me like a rhino chasing prey. Before the hit I braced myself for an incoming impale that would, for sure, cut right through me. But it never came, then, all was black.
I was awoken by a shake the next morning. My mother and father hovering over me asking what happened, if I was alright. I had passed out and fallen asleep on the kitchen floor. When they asked, I didn’t know how to answer. I had told them everything I saw and they assured me I must have been dreaming and sleepwalked downstairs. Of course they wouldn’t think that the story was true, they could never understand unless they saw what I had seen. I couldn’t eat breakfast my stomach was still in knots. My mother poked and probed me into taking at least a bite, but even that took great effort. I couldn’t wait to get to school so I could tell Nick; I knew out of all people, he would at least believe me. When I got into history class I ran right over to him. He had a surprised look in his eyes, he knew I had a story to tell him. His expression could not be told in words. Almost falling out of his seat, he gasped “I TOLD YOU! What are you going to do now?” “What am I supposed to do? IVE NEVER DEALT WITH GHOSTS BEFORE!” this conversation was going nowhere. For no one on earth, especially not Nick, could understand how to combat the undead… I had started to think of a plan of my own, but I didn’t want to spoil it by telling Nick. So after class I left and went to the library. I searched the section for ghostly creatures and haunted mythology. Interesting enough to say, there was plenty of books and authors ready to give their advice, their opinions on what I should do. I read book after book and none of them seemed to have the answer for me. I must devise my own plan. I went to the local grocer and picked up salt, lots of salt. If there was anything I did learn from the books, they always seemed to have one fact in common. Ghosts don’t like salt, something about the di-oxides interrupting their spiritual channel or something. With my new knowledge and sack full of salt. I proceeded to my house where I will hopefully take it back from the ghosts that haunt it.
I made my way home with diligence. I was quick, sneaking in and running directly to my room, making sure I wasn’t noticed by my other family members. It was still light outside and I kept my windows open. They seemed to come at night and in the darkness so I set up a salt perimeter around my room and poured extra around myself and the bed. My room was prepped now all that was left was time. I went downstairs when my mother called for dinner and I ate a hearty meal. I did, after all, need my energy if they happened to come back. After dinner I quickly went back to my room and barricaded the door. Sitting down on my bed I let out a loud sigh, “Now, I wait….” My window curtains were closed but I could still see the sun setting as the orange faded away and the black settled in. I leaned back and lit my desk lamp, although I didn’t need the light .When the ghostly white auras came in the darkness you couldn’t miss them. Hours and hours went by. I sat awake and patient on the edge of my bed. Time seemed endless and before I knew it I was looking at the clock, 11:59:57, 11:59:58,11:59:59, 12:00 pm. Could I have won? Were the frivolous thoughts of authors only guessing actually true? Salt, I sneered at my own ignorance for at that exact moment… the room got cold. The temperature dropped rapidly, I couldn’t stop my bones from shaking down to the core. The light shut off, and the ground started glowing. Loud screams erupted from all angles of the room. I spun in circles looking for the source and ended up falling to the ground where I laid, dizzy and unable to shake it. The ceiling started to morph into what looked like a giant white lake with ripples emerging at all points. I closed my eyes and opened them again, a hope that maybe I was just dreaming. My braveness shattered when I saw a white hand with a scythe start emerging from the wall, followed by the body of the tortured man. I was horrified, all my courage shot to death, as I would surely follow. He just stood there, looking at me with a smirk on his face. I stood up, trying to remain strong until I was swept off my feet by a second creature. I jumped up and ran to the door, turning back to notice that a second essence, a woman, now preyed me. I tried to open the door but it was locked somehow. “Get back, Get back, I live here now, I’m sorry for what happened but I’m innocent!!” My plea for mercy was unnoticed as both creatures started to pursue me with haste. I closed my eyes, willing myself to accept my fate. I felt a hand around my neck and it applied great pressure. A sudden sharp pain erupted in my abdomen; my legs felt the trickling of dark fresh blood rushing down them. I screamed in agony and fell to the floor. The cold air entered my lungs as I took my last gasping breaths of air… eyes shut I could feel the darkness start to empower my body and I started to lose consciousness, then, a soft whisper “understand our pain”… and the world ceased to exist. The darkness took over, and in the distance, there was a soft light. I could see myself walking towards it getting closer and closer. A staircase in my path, I walked up, gently and slowly, drawing nearer to the light.
My eyes opened to the orange rays of the morning sun. I could see outside the window, tall buildings cascading in the distance. The sound of traffic and people hurrying to get to work surrounded the air. Then a faint clicking in the distance caught my attention, it got louder and louder, followed by a soft knocking on the door. “Henry! Wake up, it’s our big day, get ready we’re moving!” said my mother. A chill went down my spine as she said those words. My eyes wide open, panting, the words “understand our pain” still ringing in my ears.
Tried making the formatting as best as possible, hope you enjoy!
This piece is called "Starting Over." I wrote it for my college fiction writing class. Hope you enjoy, please leave comments!
My parents could never stay in one place for long. I liked our city view of Chicago. I could always see people going to work, coming home, or running errands. It was a cozy home. The red brick fireplace gave it a warm feeling. My room, of course, was the best in the house. The sun rays beamed into my eyes at precisely 8:00 am every morning to wake me. The walls were half white on top, and navy on the bottom. The bamboo wood floors would make deep ticking noises when mother came home in her heels. But not anymore, not since my sister and I were dragged out of the only home we’ve ever loved. Dad had gotten a new job almost as far south east that the USA could go. He didn’t really ask us if it was okay that we moved, he more so demanded it.
Looking out the car window at our building was difficult. Driving away I could feel a pain trickle down my body, it must be my sense of security fading. I couldn’t help but wish this was all a dream. We pulled out of the city and waved goodbye at our old home. Highway stretched on for long hours and you could see mirages on the street that looked like water. As we drove you could tell we went from a cold climate to a scorching one. The transition could only be described as a cold winter being twisted into a sandy steaming desert.
At last, we arrived, the city was called West Palm Beach. It looked less than promising with tall palm trees scattered everywhere. You couldn’t walk ten feet without running into another one. Our new house didn’t look as atrocious as I had hoped. I had wished the house was nauseating so there could have been a legitimate reason to complain, with enough effort I could have gotten them to move back. That hope quickly faded because the new house on Bella Domingo Drive was vibrant. It was golden yellow like the sun on a scorching hot day. Two stories tall and a porch that kept cool even the hottest of days. I walked in to find cascading red drapes along full glass sliding doors, chandeliers of crystals gleaming from sunlight through the circle headed windows. I proceeded up the stairs and heard a faint creak; ignoring the sound I entered my new room. It was dark, the blinds were shut and there was an odor, a sort of mothball smell filled the room. As if no one had ventured into this place for a long time. I opened the windows and the smell seemed to exhaust. I didn’t very much like my new room. It wasn’t as comfortable as my previous one and definitely didn’t feel inviting.
“Siss” I called out. “Yeah?” came a voice from the room adjacent. “How do you like your room?” “It’s alright, a little scary though.. I miss home.” She said in a cracked voice”, “Me too”. Noise erupted from outside, you could hear the jolly of other children playing sports. I had seen them on the drive in, although I was too embarrassed to say hello. I forked up the courage to go outside and make acquaintance with my new neighbors. For some reason the closer I got, the further they went. After fifteen minutes of trying I gave up and went back inside. I couldn’t comprehend why they wouldn’t try and talk to me; I guess it’s all part of being new on the block.
The night started out particularly uneventful. Mother made a meatloaf that was pretty damn delicious. She uses a meat sauce that tastes delectable. With a side of baked potatoes, it was an amazing dinner. Everything seemed normal as if we had not moved out of our old home, as if the past five years in Chicago never happened. After dinner I headed upstairs and heard the same creak I had heard upon entering the house. This time I listened closely and what I heard shocked me. The creak, when listened to closely, sounded more like a scream. I moved my foot back and forth to reenact the noise. It sounded as if a woman was being tortured. Afraid, I called to my sister and had her come to listen. When she arrived though, the screaming agony stopped. The floor creaked no more, and my sister told me I must be imagining things. But I knew what I had heard; I knew the faint screaming of torture couldn’t have been only in my head. I went to my room and laid down in my bed, I couldn’t force my eyes to shut, they stayed wide open as if they were glued that way. I stared at the ceiling for at least 2 hours then, finally, dozed off.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of my new alarm clock. The sun didn’t rise on my side of the house anymore and I would have to get used to the annoying sound of sirens. Today is supposed to be my first day at Santa Domingo High School. I’m not really looking forward to it. The internet had some comments about the school. Mostly good, after all we did move to a good neighborhood. I entered my first class and I could already see fingers pointing and whispers start to engulf the silence. There was an empty seat near the back of the room. I sat next to a boy with straight brown hair that came down to his shoulders. I leaned over and asked his name and he hesitantly responded “I’m... Nick...” This had been the first time someone in this town had bothered to say a word to me and I was a bit shocked. “I’m Henry”, I replied. He gave me a sort of slanted smile then class began and he quickly dismissed me. After an hour of history lecture the teacher finally stopped and said “You may now talk amongst yourselves.” Great, no one bothered to talk to me anyway. To my surprise though, Nick leaned over and began to speak. “So… Henry. What was it like?” Bewildered, I asked “what was what like?” He replied, “Spending a night in that house of course…” I still didn’t understand what he meant and with my blank expression he continued on. “That house, it’s haunted… everyone in the neighborhood knows.” Shocked, I didn’t know how to respond, so he continued speaking again. “The owners were lawyers, a woman and a man, they had no kids. One night they got home and the door was open. They went into the house to grab the phone and call the cops when the door shut behind them. Three men in masks grabbed them and took them into their room upstairs. They dragged the woman up the stairs by her hair as she let out screams of agony and pain. The husband was brutally beaten and murdered before the wife ever made it up.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “The house is marked with blood and is forever haunted by their ghosts. That’s why everyone points at you, that’s why everyone is afraid… No one has entered that house in years.”
During the unbelievable story I was hearing, two more kids came up to Nick and I and listened intently. They introduced themselves as Lauren and Jake. Nick continued by asking “How was it there? How was spending the night? Can you see the ghosts?” All these questions but I had no answers for them. “I don’t believe in ghosts” I told them. “The house is perfectly normal and I’m here aren’t I? There are no ghosts, it can’t be haunted”. They were taken back at my reply, and I slid down into my seat. My mind directed at only one thing, the creak in the floor. Was it possible that I had heard the screams of the woman who was butchered? Was it possible that there could actually be some sort of ghostly presence in the house? I snapped myself out of contemplation; there was no way that this was true.
When school ended I took my time walking back home. I observed the scenery, the trees swayed blissfully in summer wind. This truly was a beautiful place. Nearing my house, I had an idea that I should investigate. I walked onto the porch and inspected it thoroughly. It was a normal porch that had no indications of any struggle in the years passed, no scratches on the floor, just perfectly laid wood and beautiful landscaping. I walked inside to see my mother cleaning, she was always cleaning. I asked her if she had seen or heard anything unusual today. All I got in return was an odd look, and then she continued cleaning. I walked up the stairs very carefully; I was becoming more cautious since I heard the story from Nick earlier. I got to my room and still haven’t heard a thing. I started to believe that it was all in my head until the sun went down and it started to get dark. I put on the reading lamp and started doing my homework. I was writing about why King Henry IV was such a powerful ruler and then a brief cold wind slid softly down my back. I turned around and saw that the window was still closed just as I had left it, and the air conditioning wasn’t running. I began to panic, I could tell it was happening again, this time instead of a woman screaming I heard a loud groan, an ache, it sounded desperate, as if this gasp was close to their last. I looked around and saw nothing. I ran like a speed jet to the closet and opened it, nothing but my clothes sat in there. The bed was my next choice, I looked under and found nothing but boxes unopened from the move. Then again, another loud moan of pain erupted. There was a cold chill sent down my spine and I couldn’t control my shaking. A vision of a bloody face came through the dark wall. A piercing white ghostly figure emerged from the paint and was walking straight at me. I was pinned up against the wall thinking there was nothing I could do to stop this. The bloody white ghostly figure continued to walk towards me, the cold essence of death following in his tracts. A butcher knife and scythe clutched in either hand, moaning, loudly as he walked. The ghost took a clean swipe with the scythe and I ducked down. I could feel the rubble fall onto my back from the newly formed gash in the wall. I looked up, still crouching and saw the bloody butcher knife coming straight for my face. It seemed to have moved in slow motion, what should have taken seconds, seemed to take minutes. I closed my eyes and tried to accept what was about to happen within the next few seconds. A loud crash, a soft moan, I opened my eyes and there was nothing but my empty room. The dark walls still there, I turned around to see the gash but it was gone, there had been no sign of the event ever happening. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. Had this really happened, or was my mind playing tricks on me? I was breathing frantically and I couldn’t control my emotions. My pounding heart getting stronger and louder with every beat, my stomach in knots and my eyes seemed to have the image of this ghost burned into them. I ran downstairs as quick as I could and grabbed the phone. I had 91 dialed in but before I pressed the last number I took a deep breath. I had started to calm down and started thinking to myself again. There was no way this was true, I don’t believe in supernatural I don’t believe in ghosts! The second I said that, he appeared again. This time he was angrier than before. His eyes were blood red with rage as he charged at me like a rhino chasing prey. Before the hit I braced myself for an incoming impale that would, for sure, cut right through me. But it never came, then, all was black.
I was awoken by a shake the next morning. My mother and father hovering over me asking what happened, if I was alright. I had passed out and fallen asleep on the kitchen floor. When they asked, I didn’t know how to answer. I had told them everything I saw and they assured me I must have been dreaming and sleepwalked downstairs. Of course they wouldn’t think that the story was true, they could never understand unless they saw what I had seen. I couldn’t eat breakfast my stomach was still in knots. My mother poked and probed me into taking at least a bite, but even that took great effort. I couldn’t wait to get to school so I could tell Nick; I knew out of all people, he would at least believe me. When I got into history class I ran right over to him. He had a surprised look in his eyes, he knew I had a story to tell him. His expression could not be told in words. Almost falling out of his seat, he gasped “I TOLD YOU! What are you going to do now?” “What am I supposed to do? IVE NEVER DEALT WITH GHOSTS BEFORE!” this conversation was going nowhere. For no one on earth, especially not Nick, could understand how to combat the undead… I had started to think of a plan of my own, but I didn’t want to spoil it by telling Nick. So after class I left and went to the library. I searched the section for ghostly creatures and haunted mythology. Interesting enough to say, there was plenty of books and authors ready to give their advice, their opinions on what I should do. I read book after book and none of them seemed to have the answer for me. I must devise my own plan. I went to the local grocer and picked up salt, lots of salt. If there was anything I did learn from the books, they always seemed to have one fact in common. Ghosts don’t like salt, something about the di-oxides interrupting their spiritual channel or something. With my new knowledge and sack full of salt. I proceeded to my house where I will hopefully take it back from the ghosts that haunt it.
I made my way home with diligence. I was quick, sneaking in and running directly to my room, making sure I wasn’t noticed by my other family members. It was still light outside and I kept my windows open. They seemed to come at night and in the darkness so I set up a salt perimeter around my room and poured extra around myself and the bed. My room was prepped now all that was left was time. I went downstairs when my mother called for dinner and I ate a hearty meal. I did, after all, need my energy if they happened to come back. After dinner I quickly went back to my room and barricaded the door. Sitting down on my bed I let out a loud sigh, “Now, I wait….” My window curtains were closed but I could still see the sun setting as the orange faded away and the black settled in. I leaned back and lit my desk lamp, although I didn’t need the light .When the ghostly white auras came in the darkness you couldn’t miss them. Hours and hours went by. I sat awake and patient on the edge of my bed. Time seemed endless and before I knew it I was looking at the clock, 11:59:57, 11:59:58,11:59:59, 12:00 pm. Could I have won? Were the frivolous thoughts of authors only guessing actually true? Salt, I sneered at my own ignorance for at that exact moment… the room got cold. The temperature dropped rapidly, I couldn’t stop my bones from shaking down to the core. The light shut off, and the ground started glowing. Loud screams erupted from all angles of the room. I spun in circles looking for the source and ended up falling to the ground where I laid, dizzy and unable to shake it. The ceiling started to morph into what looked like a giant white lake with ripples emerging at all points. I closed my eyes and opened them again, a hope that maybe I was just dreaming. My braveness shattered when I saw a white hand with a scythe start emerging from the wall, followed by the body of the tortured man. I was horrified, all my courage shot to death, as I would surely follow. He just stood there, looking at me with a smirk on his face. I stood up, trying to remain strong until I was swept off my feet by a second creature. I jumped up and ran to the door, turning back to notice that a second essence, a woman, now preyed me. I tried to open the door but it was locked somehow. “Get back, Get back, I live here now, I’m sorry for what happened but I’m innocent!!” My plea for mercy was unnoticed as both creatures started to pursue me with haste. I closed my eyes, willing myself to accept my fate. I felt a hand around my neck and it applied great pressure. A sudden sharp pain erupted in my abdomen; my legs felt the trickling of dark fresh blood rushing down them. I screamed in agony and fell to the floor. The cold air entered my lungs as I took my last gasping breaths of air… eyes shut I could feel the darkness start to empower my body and I started to lose consciousness, then, a soft whisper “understand our pain”… and the world ceased to exist. The darkness took over, and in the distance, there was a soft light. I could see myself walking towards it getting closer and closer. A staircase in my path, I walked up, gently and slowly, drawing nearer to the light.
My eyes opened to the orange rays of the morning sun. I could see outside the window, tall buildings cascading in the distance. The sound of traffic and people hurrying to get to work surrounded the air. Then a faint clicking in the distance caught my attention, it got louder and louder, followed by a soft knocking on the door. “Henry! Wake up, it’s our big day, get ready we’re moving!” said my mother. A chill went down my spine as she said those words. My eyes wide open, panting, the words “understand our pain” still ringing in my ears.
Tried making the formatting as best as possible, hope you enjoy!