The rain pounds on my windshield as thunder booms through the sky. Lightning streaks and flashes, letting me catch glimpses of brittle trees shaking in the wind. My radio shudders, occasionally falling into static. I look up at the sky. It isn’t getting any lighter. I take a deep breath, repeating in my head that it will all be fine. I just pray that it will be true. As I start getting closer to my destination, I see several pumpkins dotting the landscape. Their bright orange stands out vibrantly, almost scarily, against the black sky. My radio is nothing but static now; I see no power lines along the horizon. Finally I pull up a gritty old driveway, my heart pounding. It is an old house, the wood starting to rot. The roof looks like it will fall down any second, crushing me in its path. The door is dark and grimy, moss sprouting from the cracks. My breath catches in my throat. Why did I agree to buy this house? The previous owner had been quick to give it away. Maybe… maybe too quick. A crack of lightning illuminates the weather vane on the roof. It is spinning madly. Horribly quick. For a split second I swear I see a shadow on it. Then it is gone. I walk straight up to the door, hitting the bronze knocker. It rings out eerily, the sound echoing throughout the walls of the house. Nobody answers. In the distance I hear a howl, not one of a wolf, but of something I have never heard before. Again I bang the knocker, louder this time. When nothing happens, I force myself to look in the window. A chilling sight greets me; old chairs covered in heavy layers of dust, dank and musty cabinets sitting in the living room, and an old grandfather clock ticking away. I walk back to the door, reaching out a shaking hand to the doorknob. I open it slowly. It creaks loudly, making my pulse quicken. Something about this place seems… off. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock seems to be counting down the minutes I have left to live. Maybe I’m just superstitious. Thunder rumbles close by. The clouds make the entrance seem dark and hair-raising, the only source of light coming from the door I opened. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Once more the clock ticks. I step forward cautiously. Dust rises up and surrounds me, making me cough and hack. Suddenly a flare of lighting enters the room like a headlight, bright and dark at the same time. Its brightness falls upon something. Something in the corner. Something covered with a dark red liquid. I step back in horror, my eyes catching on every little thing in the room. A white sheet covered with red slung over a chair. An old fireplace still with blackened and burnt logs. Humongous windows letting in no light whatsoever. It’s too much. It’s all too much. Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock sounds through the room, making my heart beat faster. Tick. Tick. Tick. I panic, searching for an exit. I can’t find the door. I don’t feel a handle anywhere. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Silence. Nothing reverberates in the room except my ragged breath. Then I see it. A shadow of a child stands in front of me. I scream. They advance, brandishing something which looks like a knife. I back away, fumbling behind me for the doorknob. My hand touches metal, and frantically I pull it open. I run out into the pouring rain. I look behind me, checking for the child. I see it float out the door, giggling madly. No. No. No. I can still hear the grandfather clock in my ears. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. It’s counting my seconds to live. It is, it is, it is. Help. I yell out into the air, screaming for somebody to come and save me. The child is almost in front of me, raising its knife into the air. For a moment I can see a scarlet liquid dripping from the knife. I run, faster than I have ever run before in my life. Another giggle sounds from behind me, ringing in my ears. I can’t take it. No. No. No. Help. Help. Help.
bro why do i love this so much i just had to write it for ELA-
