Hey guys, I wrote a short story, it's a page long, and I wanted to know what you guys thought of it. Feel free to leave any imporovements/suggestions/opinions. Thank you for reading :).
I lived in a house. Distant from any town. Very remote. Closest was about a mile away. A backyard, isolated by a forest. I knew these woods pretty well. Well enough to know there was a VERY old haunted house deep inside them which had burned down decades ago. Although, I had never been close enough to it. So I decided to call my friends over, so we could explore. Without even a doubt of something going wrong, not even the slightest concern, we ventured deep into the woods. No one could hear us scream or shout if we did. We didn’t think of any problems that we could come across. None of us believed in the supernatural. At least, not yet…
It was cloudy and leaves were crunching beneath our feet with every step we took. The clouds only got greyer and the weather only got colder as us three went along. The trees with razor sharp branches, they were sort of pointing the way for us, showing us where to go and how to get there. With every turn, a new branch, a new direction. Quiet weird and unpleasant. Did someone shape it like this? Maybe the wind storm earlier had bent it a little. Maybe it was made like this. But none of us knew. It wasn’t long before I had this sense, in fact, we all had this feeling of, eyes, inspecting us, staring us down, like a lion and its prey, just watching…We looked around us to see if we could find signs of footprints or even people. Nothing. We just shook it off, thinking we were paranoid, and continued.
Only minutes after that feeling, which was still there, I looked over to one of my friends to ask a question, he was pale. As white as a sheet of paper. Like he had never seen the sun before. He also was looking, thinner, eyes bulging with a dark vivid red. Odd…He seemed trippy, drunk almost. He was dragging his feet on the ground. We kind of just let him be, thinking he was tired, and didn’t want to ask him, because we were scared of the outcome.
Soon afterwards, thunder, very loud and powerful thunder. I lost control. I was walking and walking and walking. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted too. I…I had lost control. I wanted to scream! To break free! Tell my friends to run before they were stuck too. But nothing. I felt my mouth suddenly go dry. I hear a very faint whisper, but it sounded so close, it sent shivers down my spine, it said: “Don’t go home.” It was repeated, but louder. “DON’T GO HOME!” I heard a defining scream. I suddenly regained control. Yelling for my friends to run, the pale one was now unresponsive and had fell to the floor. Lighting struck terrifyingly close to us. I grabbed him, the other was well aware of the current situation. We ran, I have never ran this fast…ever, and I’m a pretty fast runner. What that voice had said was constantly going through my head. Why was it saying don’t go home? What did it mean?
We soon arrived at my house. I threw up from running so fast. The door, unlocked, as usual, no red flags. Although, as I opened the door forcefully, the smell of death itself filled the room. Blood over the walls. Smeared everywhere. My parents in the corner, shaking, holding a knife, shivering with fear. I have never seen them so petrified. And the blood on the walls has spelled: “You’re next…”
