Notes

The musty smell of a house that had been long abandoned filled my nose. It was dim and uninviting. The furniture dusty and old, looking as if it would crumble to dust if I touched it. Mould ate away at the walls and flooring, and cobwebs laced the bordered up windows and portraits of self-righteous people who once lived in the house. Suddenly, the floor caved in and I fell down into the darkness of the basement.
Nothing of interest was in the room, only dimly lit candles and trunks of old, moth eaten clothes. I felt as if someone, or something, was watching me, waiting to drag me into the shadows.
moaning
manor/ a chilling sense
I entered the bedroom of the two-story home on a dry, dark fall night. I lay on the bed in this
semi-dark room, which was only lit by the dim chandelier that hung over my head. The breeze was
blowing from the outside and causing dead branches to click-clack off of the feeble, arch-shaped windows
that surrounded me. The walls seemed to be invisible because the irregular, random sound of smashing
and tapping on these windows.
The window sound only interrupted me for so long, though. I heard something crying downstairs
in the distance. I could not make out what it was, but it sounded like a yelp of pain—shrill, like a baby in
distress. This was no baby, however. This was something else. The cry sounded aggressive, as if it were
angry and searching for something.
My heart began pumping quickly and my neck began to sweat as I lay still in the same bed,
petrified and unable to make any movement as this cry continued, continued, and continued—to get closer
to me and louder in my ears!
I managed to swing my feet over the side of the bed and stand up on the old hardwood floor. My
feet made a CREAK, which instantly made the approaching cry stop. I began, again, to hear the ticktacking
on the window; then, I only could hear my heart beating hard in my ears.
I took off running for any door I could find. The tick-tock of my heart was like a clock in my ears,
and I moved swiftly to make a timely exit. I ran quickly over the creaky floor that felt like it was
collapsing behind me, but I also moved cautiously in fear of the source of that horrifying cry—still silent.
Just before I exited the house, I saw a quick shadow appear near my feet, and I almost tripped
trying to avoid it. I slammed into the exit door, reaching for the iron handle somewhere near my hand. I
opened the door, only to hear the cry again, as if it were living right inside my ears. The shriek startled
me as I jumped the front steps and headed for my car.