It's a dark, restless night. I toss and turn on the couch, begging the sandman to pay me a visit. I look toward the door. 'Why is it open?' I think to myself.
I push myself off the couch and rise to shut it. I walk toward the door. I feel a cool breeze sneaking in from the winter air. I swiftly, yet lightly shut it. I then turn and walk toward the kitchen.
"I need a glass of water," I mummble to myself.
I reach out to turn on the light. It never turns on. The light must be shot. I pour my glass of water and walk back toward the couch. I settle back into my seat. It would be senseless to try to sleep now. I glance over to see my book. I pick it up.
"Is it wise to read in the dark?' I mutter to myself. "I don't care," I say mindlessly.
I begin reading different poems by Maya Angelou. As I finish reading "Still I Rise", I glance toward the door. To my surprise, it's open again. I fling the book aside and rise. I walk toward the door and slam it shut. I then lock it for good measure.
"Why do you insist on being open you blasted door?"
I turn back as I hear a sudden crash. I see nothing. I look toward the kitchen. There is a large pile of broken glass lying on the cold floor. I look around startled.
"Where are you?" I shout. "Show yourself!"
The room stays quiet. I walk toward the broken glass, continously glancing over my shoulder. I lean down to clean the scattered mess. Suddenly the door slams open. I look toward it. I see nothing. I slowly walk toward it. My heart races. Then I see it. I begin to back up immediatly. An individual in a black cloak is standing at the doorway. A dark hood covers its face. It slowly starts to move toward me.
I turn on my heels as I go to run. I make it a mere three feet before triping over a nonexistent object on the floor.
"Stop! Don't come any closer you foul demon! Return to the pits of hell where you belong!" I shout as it continues to move closer and closer. I seem to be petrified.
It is now arms length away. It reaches out and grasps my arm.
"What are you?" I ask with a slight quiver in my voice. "Your so cold."
One hand rises to its face. It is soon to reveal itself to me.The hand slowly slides the hood up, but I never see the face.
I wake in a cold sweat. I look around. It is still night. I am still lying on the couch.
"It was all just a horrible nightmare," I say as I let out a slight chuckle.
I begin to look around the room again. My heart sinks as I see the door.
"Why is the door open?" I cry.
-------------------------------------Authors Note------------------------------------------
So this was a short story I wrote for my English class. The prompt was to write about "A haunted house adventure", and my strange mind formed this. I hope you enjoy:)
