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Knight's writing, etc. I'll post random things in here, poems, short stories, rants...


KnightofCydonianAssassin
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A Short Story...
He didn't know what possessed him to go to the house. He was a curious man, and he had heard the many rumours whispered in the town… "Have you heard never has there been a person that has come out of that house… alive?" or "They say there's some sort of monster living there… eats people right up!"
He didn't believe any of these things. It was just a derelict house that people liked to make jokes about on Halloween, nothing more.
Nevertheless, he felt an unexplainable chill run down his spine as he walked up the hill. "Don't be afraid," he murmured to himself.
He drew his coat more tightly around him as a fierce wind whipped up. He cast frantic glances at his surroundings. A squirrel scampered out from under a dead, emaciated tree. An owl gave a rather loud hoot, making him start. Otherwise, the terrain seemed lifeless. A look at the sky above, and he saw dark gray clouds rolling in. A clear sign of a storm.
Shivering and gasping in the cold, his breath coming harsh and sharp between his teeth, he reached the front steps. They creaked, shaking his already frayed nerves. He prayed silently for the door to be locked.
But the door knob turned easily in his hand. He entered the house, closing the door behind him. He had an odd sensation of being trapped in an airless cell.
It was cold in here, probably more so than outside. But his skin was cold with fear now, and it didn't phase him.
He looked around. He was standing in a dusty lounge. A few lumpy armchairs stood around an antique table, one of its legs broken. Several photographs, portraits of possibly the past owners of the house, lined the walls. They started down at him with their glassy eyes, and he gave a squeak of terror.
"Okay," he whispered to himself, wondering silently if he was going mad. "I've seen the house, and now everyone will know that it's just a creepy old house, nothing more…"
He turned back to the door, his hand already turning the knob. But, as soon as he wrenched the door open, slimy, scabby hands already grasped him around the neck, closed him from the outside world again. The beast pinned him to the floor, jerking his jaw down, his mouth open wide. It leaned in as though for a kiss, but an inch from his mouth, a long, bright, silvery substance leaked out of it, which the creature devoured greedily. Slowly, he stopped thrashing. He looked out of glassy eyes, seeing the creature drag him through the house, but not caring for any of it at all.




 
 
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