Creative Writing: The Haunted House

Stumbling down the she landed at the doorstep of a rustic, old and wet house. Her suitcase lay on the ground and her clothes were scattered on the cold and damp floor. Rain fell as she clumsily picked up her belongings while twisting the doorknob. She gently closed the door, dragging her bag into the house.

All alone she had walked miles and miles in this horrible weather. The sky was shadowy and clouds loomed over the moon. The streetlights flickered and the owl hooted. Water dripped from her long blonde hair and her pale freckled skin was cold. Goosebumps covered her arms as she shivered.

“Is anyone there?” She yelled whilst clearing out her croaky voice and remembering the horrible series of events that she had just gone through. She tiptoed along the creaky floorboards as she searched for

Looking around nervously, she saw scary portraits staring at her from behind several layers of dust. Light streamed in through cracked windows, casting eerie shadows on the walls. As she walked forward, she couldn’t help but feel that there was someone following her. Turning around, she saw nothing but the empty hallway and the faces in the portraits staring back at her. 'Turn back' they seemed to say, but she gulped and continued into the dark bowels of the old

Shadows seemed to swirl around her feet, sucking her in. She fumbled for the light switch, flipping it up and down frantically, but the room remained immersed in darkness. Fear settled in and deep down she knew that she was not alone in the dark. Something brushed her back. She turned, but there was nothing. Nothing she could see, that is. Outside she heard the autumn wind howling, and it almost sounded like laughter to her panicked mind. A low chuckle broke her thought process. She screamed, but heard nothing in the overwhelming blackness. She was being drawn in, drowned in slumbering evil; there was no