Descriptive Essay On Knock On The Door

‘I Was About To Knock On the Door…’ Make This the Start Of a Story.

I was about to knock on the door when I heard something shatter - again. I hesitated, wondering whether or not to knock. I thought to myself, ‘They might consider me to be disrespectful if I just knock late at night… They could just be sleeping.’ It was well past midnight, and not even a single person was passing by. There had been a peculiar noise, distinctive and loud enough to wake me up from my heavy sleep. To my surprise, the sound seemed to have disturbed no one else. All the houses, neatly lined up across the road, were still and peaceful. Nothing seemed to be different from any other day. The yellow street lamps were flickering violently as if they were going to turn

I gasped, and quickly covered my mouth. I had never seen such a bloodbath. My heart was beating wildly, and the whole scene made me panic. Trying to calm myself down, I looked around. The house was dead quiet, and there seemed to be no one - the perpetrator must have ran away already. Bright red blood was everywhere, on the floor, on all the furniture, and some more freshly gushing out from the two bodies lying down helplessly on the carpet. One of the victims was still breathing heavily, trying his best to reach for the phone just two inches away. So at least one was alive. I desperately reached for my phone, to call the police, the hospital, anyone, and just as I pressed the call button, I heard something being dragged along. Slowly, trying to overcome the feelings of horror, I looked

His eyes and hair weren’t visible at all, and he was wearing a jet black jumper and black trousers, perfect to hide himself in a day like today, where it was pitch black. It was evident that the murderer had been in the attic, as his trail was marked clearly with the blood of his newly slain victim. The stranger looked straight into my eyes which seemed to penetrate through me, and started to approach me step by step. Shivers ran down through my spine, and my instinct told me to back away. I stepped out of the house, my legs shaking so much that I felt as if I was about to collapse at any