I see the faint shadows of towering, tall trees side by side in the forest. It 's dark out. All the critters are asleep and there are no longer the sounds of angry drivers racing down the nearby highway, or shouts of children on the playground a couple blocks down. The white, fluffy, deep snow makes it hard to walk, and my feet are numb from the cold. I have to squint my eyes to make out what 's in front of me. I can see my breath when I breathe out. I can hear the snow crunching underneath my thick wool boots and fuzzy socks, and can hear the sound of my own breathing. The faint howling of the wind sounds like ghosts swarming the city on Halloween. I notice an old abandoned, dilapidated house far off in the distance, in desperate need for a new paint job. With it’s rickety old …show more content…
As I approach the house, I smell the old musty smell of the house. When I step on the front steps of the house, I hear a creak from underneath the floorboards. With every step, it seems like the creaking gets louder. I rap my hands around the dusty door handle and slowly pull open the unlocked door. The inside looks like what you’d expect. Cobwebs linger in every witch way, and antique furniture layered with dust sits perfectly arranged in the living room. Cautiously, I walk farther into the house to explore. With every heavy step and pressure on the floor boards, it feels as if the house will collapse on top of me. I make my way into the kitchen. An old wooden table sits in the corner, along with matching chairs. Water drips out of the faucet in the corner. I open the a cabinet, but there are only more cobwebs. Anxious to get out of this place, I start to walk back to the door and exit, but stop dead in my track. My heartbeat increases as I intently listen to a hard pounding noise, that appear to be getting louder by the second. Bang, Bang, Bang. I crouch behind a nearby staircase as the volume of the pounding increases. All of a sudden, it stops and I work up the nerve to stand up
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[It is morning and the sky that shows through the old windows of the building is a peaceful hazy blue-dark. Daylight sunshine shows in the distance. The outside world, unmistakable to the eyes from the old windows is of a cool winter. The lights hanging in the inside of the building projects a dull puncturing yellow and throws shadows onto the dividers giving a clean, shocking feeling. Every room looks like a jail cell.
Matt Watson stared intently at the small dot on the dull, gray, roof of his cell, as his room suddenly began to shake. Small particles of dust, sprinkled and scattered from the ceiling to the floor like snow flurries on a good winter day. Like the eye of a destructive hurricane, the roaring sound suddenly stopped and life seemed to
I have to be circumspect as I began to come across houses and colonists. When I found a log hidden in the darkness and partly lighted by the moon, I sat down to catch my breathe. As I look up I see a town lit up in the night. I run to the light, my toes feeling completely frozen. As I breathe I can see my breath flow through the air.
The dull air in the morning with the strange lights, the eerie silence of the noon, and strange yet normal creatures and voices of the night. People believe this ghost of a town to be the line between insanity and reality, things seen here are normal to the people of the town, but to outsiders it 's unexplainable. So I advise you to be aware of your surrounding when reading because something to your dismay, just might be lurking in the shadows.
The grass was so sharply cut you could cut yourself with it. The bushes by the french doors had patches of different types of flowers. There was a patch of lilies by the marble steps that gave off a tropical feeling. The house had an old spooky look but yet a homey look. When the group of 10th grader thought it would be funny to spend the night and prove everyone wrong that is was just an abandoned house nothing more.
Snow dances, silencing the sounds around me; hiding the ugliness of the gray clouds hanging overhead. The world becomes still as the snow accumulates a bed sheet on me, as though protecting me; then a growing white light begins to shine into view. They say your life flashes before your eyes before your eyes. At
The footsteps are getting closer, louder, harder. Faded red paint covers every wall, bar, and door, chipped off, making pictures in the walls. You hear the footsteps, they get closer and closer. The footsteps are so close you can feel the echoing of the ground beneath your feet. You run until you can run no more.
We were afraid at nigh in the winter. We were not afraid of outside though this was the time of year when snowdrifts curled around our house like sleeping whales and the wind harassed us all night, coming up from the buried fields, the frozen swamp, with its old bugbear chorus of threats and misery. We were afraid of inside, the room where we slept. At this time upstairs of our house was not finished. A brick chimney went up
I looked out from the passenger side window as we pulled into our parking spot. The trees were beginning to go bare in the frigid October weather, and the ground was covered in their dry, crispy leaves. The four of us were going on a haunted hayride tonight, a popular past-time for season. We clambered out of the car and left our bags behind. It had rained the day before, and it made the ground beneath us soft with mud and trampled leaves.
The wooden planks creaked with each stride. Every door slammed shut as in accordance to the beat of its conductor. Draped curtains flailed uncontrollably atop the windows throughout the house which seemed to shake with every gasp of air. Never before was there any intimation to a presence, a ghostly figure. However, today, it now became clear, that this was not a home for the living, but a resting mansion for the already deceased.
My house, the one with the brown shingles and the wood that needed so badly to be painted. The one where many people had been for party 's, the one where some people never returned from. When the quiet chime of the doorbell finally called out to me, my fear began to rise. This time, would they actually catch me? I wiped the fearful look off my face and put on my mask that I wore so well.
Small, stagnant puddles, on the uneven planks of timber wood reflected the dark, brooding sky above - rarely disturbed by the callous slices of moonlight seeping through the clouds, creating a specular reflection through a ripple in the languid water. Surrounding the lake, lay a rigid, pine forest, which stretched far past the mountainous boundaries - rising high, around the solitary lake. A death-like mist pervaded through the trees enveloping them in a gelid, cutting fog. A silent, lonely willow shivered as the still, biting air engulfed its aged branches in an icy cage and suffocated its stiffened lungs, causing each freezing breath to drag. Crusted leaves stacked one on top of the other as
It was dark outside and I didn’t have my phone on me so the only thing that gave me light was the lamp post. There gazebo behind me and I faced an endless field that led to darkness. It was really creepy, because it was just me and the silence that surrounded me. I sprawled across the grass, staring up into the cloudless sky.
The cool, upland air, flooding through the everlasting branches of the lively tree, as it casts a vague shadow onto the grasses ' fine green. Fresh sunlight penetrates through the branches of the tree, illuminating perfect spheres of water upon its green wands. My numb and almost transparent feet are blanketed by the sweetness of the scene, as the sunlight paints my lips red, my hair ebony, and my eyes honey-like. The noon sunlight acts as a HD camera, telling no lies, in the world in which shadows of truth are the harshest, revealing every flaw in the sight, like a toddler carrying his very first camera, taking pictures of whatever he sees. My head looks down at the sight of my cold and lifeless feet, before making its way up to the reaching arms of an infatuating tree, glowing brightly virescent at the edges of the trunk, inviting a soothing, tingling sensation to my soul.