A shotgun was targeted towards my head which made my eyes and legs become paralysed; thus I could not feel or sense anything. My eyes looking blindly and my legs walking briskly with the question” will I die” stuck on my mind like a tick attaches into skin. I was roused up from my bed earlier without knowing what was going on. They did not let me wear any clothes or even tie my shoes. I was forced to get out from the safety of my home and walk for obviously something diabolical in that Icy cold weather.
Terrified to go any further, I turned to go back upstairs where I could retrieve a lamp and be able to see further than my nose. But, as I spun around, my elbow caught the rotting pile of books and before I could move anywhere, the pile fell down and blocked my only known way of exit. I was trapped! The books, having just been disturbed sent out billows of d... ... middle of paper ... ... jammed shut. Deciding that it was a matter of getting out now or trying to find another way, which could take ages, I grabbed the nearest thing possible.
He had a disturbing giggle, “Girly … let’s have fuuuuun.” He kept on approaching I couldn’t move, I was frozen in fear. Scraaaaaaape. Scraaaaaaape. He extended its malnourished arm, “Come with me… Girly.” I try to walk past the poor thing rejecting his offers. I come to the realization that it won’t let me pass, he smelt disgusting, and... ... middle of paper ... ...ting any faster, but my legs aren’t responding, they aren’t connected to reality just like my whole body.
The streetlights flicker as he clenches his gun as he walks past deserted home after deserted home. These homes once housed familiar faces of friends he grew up with, now abandoned with boarded up windows and doors that creak open from gusts of wind. Cars buried in snow, windows busted and tires that are flat create a obstacle course that blockade the cracked cement road. The silence makes his skin hair stand on end and goose bumps begin to form on his back, his eyes fully dilated and the only sound is the crunch of snow beneath his feet. He pauses at a house with a hand painted sign of doom eyes watery from what he is witnessing.
A Frightful Walk Home From Work - Personal Narrative I was surrounded by total silence, walking down the stairs after finishing early from work. I speedily ran so that I could be the first one out the doors as there was ten more minutes till other employers were going to race down those stairs. I came out onto the street car park. As I crossed the road, I noticed the pavements lined by hazy streetlamps and as I felt the icy, frost, air as it slowly transformed my hand into a cold blue. I could feel the coldness already running through my body on the frosty winter's night.
When the phone rang at two in the morning, I knew it was my final chance, my last chance to choose between escaping and remaining sane, to run from all that was holding me back and dragging me down. Wrapping myself into a ball, slightly, I glanced around the area I was in. The room was dark, completely pitched in darkness and the silence that never failed to cause shivers up my spine. With a deep breath I leaned forward to get to my feet, to get out of this horrific place-but as soon as I did I froze. Feeling something cold and hard coil around my wrist I tentatively looked down.
Should I stay under the tree and risk getting hit by lightning or should I go into that old house, not knowing who, or what, might be in there? The storm had decided for me. Lightning hit the tree, filling the air with the scent of scorched sap. I dashed onto the porch and pounded on the door to find it was open. As I went into the corridor, suddenly the door had smashed shut.
I tried to turn the door knob, but it fell off as soon as I touched it. The knob rolled down the steps and kept on rolling down the driveway, and stopped by the fence. That didn't make John feel any better at all. He looked like he had seen a ghost. I took a deep breath, and pushed the door.
It wasn't meant to be a long journey into the meeting site but the fact that they were crawling, trying to remain quiet, remember the way and generally not make themselves sick just make the whole ordeal seem a millions times longer than it actually. Once again November proceeded to bang his head on the low ceiling, swear and the two continued on their pa... ... middle of paper ... ...with the pole but missed and the knife had went hilt deep into his arm. Dropping the pole Damien threw open the door behind him and ran, not really paying attention to where he was going. He could hear people chasing him, probably made easier by the drops of blood he was leaving behind him. "Shit, oh shit," Damien thought as he ran.
Thunk, his boots stepped out onto the solid concrete as he locked up the shack that he called home. Rain sloshed onto his clothes making them cling to hi... ... middle of paper ... ...ped with pain but continued to run faster. He raced upstairs with the man hot on his heels. Travers heart was racing as he jumped off the banister into the hallway; this just angered the man even more. The man turned to follow Travers but when he climbed up onto the banister, the knife slipped out of his hand and he fell.