Children Shoudln't Play With Dead Things

My foot started a steady tapping rhythm on the floor, and I could no longer stay seated. Time was not my ally, and my inevitable departure was looming over me. I gathered what was left of myself up off the floor and took one last tour of my

I gasped for air as I turned the corner on Stanford Street and passed Stony Brook Elementary School. Eight miles. I exerted all the energy left in my body to run up my not-so-steep driveway. My fingers and toes shivered as pins and needles rushed through my body, even though the summer humidity had just arrived for the season. As I reached the top of my driveway, I stumbled into my house. I gripped every object in my path. I knew my muscles had been eating themselves away, as grasping onto the smooth, granite edges of the counter to keep myself stable took my entire body’s corporation. My deteriorating muscles clenched as my powerless strength pushed myself up to stand alongside the counter in the middle of the kitchen. I think I may pass out, again. I held onto the counter as if I held on for my life. I closed my thick eyelids and patiently waited until the feeling past— it always did.

Then suddenly, a disconcerting fear latches onto your cold shoulder holding you tight. What if these walls eat you alive? What if the only things you will ever see ever again are the scuffed tile floors, plain walls, and flickering fluorescent lights? The fear makes your head spin, yet it yanks you back to this moment with its boney, thin, gray

The first couple steps were bumpy, my trembling feet vibrating against the crackling floor. The door swings open as I go to knock creating a loud screeching noise. As I walk into the unfamiliar home, I become more aware of the man I'm about to meet. I travel further into his world and can hear the noise coming from under my feet. I get closer and closer until I find it, the crooked door where he told me to meet him. As the stairs appears from the darkness, my path becomes lighted ahead of me.

The owl shows them the way. The dark made everyone’s spine shiver, and everyone’s hands linked up to avoid separation. They made it to the end: a downward spiral of staircases that lead them to a darkly lit room which, while dark, was not as dark as the labyrinth.

Hand over hand I climb to the top of the rickety old tower, its rusty metal rungs digging into my palms. I heave my skinny body up over the ledge—it’s much harder than it sounds—and scoot across the platform on my belly, wriggling like a worm. My fingers scrape up an old piece of gum—gross—and I flick it away, pretending that it didn’t make my skin crawl.

The small flashlight I hold under my gun does little to illuminate the room. I glance around the room, quickly taking in the rusted machinery and twisted pieces of metal; broken glass crunches beneath my feet. What’s left of the windows have been boarded up, causing the near blinding blackness. Rats scurry across the cavernous space, no doubt resenting our abrupt intrusion.

I sprinted out of that room like Usain Bolt off the block in the Olympics, being out of the clutches of that old, musty, and probably moldy room filled my body with a sense of appeasement. I caught up with my friends in the hallway, and they also had a look on their faces that suggested that they to had just been released from the grasp of something evil. After we took a few steps through the hallway we slowly recovered from the mental damage that we had just suffered, and my friend Scout managed to stammer

I maneuvered down the dark hall on the second floor until I could no longer hear anything. I pressed my back against the wall eager to clear my head and catch my breath. As I rested I remembered the art room was nearby. It was rarely used and far from the celebration. It would be a suitable place to hide.

I see the familiar image of the clock. With every second, I grow weaker and weaker. I keep running, faster than I ever have before. I keep going until my lungs burn and my legs feel like they are about to fall off. Suddenly, I am plunged into darkness. I can't see anything for what feels like an eternity. Then, I start to fall. Faster and faster I plunge through the air. I know what lies ahead. I close my eyes and when I open them, I am not surprised to find myself in a dimly lit hallway. I wander farther and farther down the passageway. By now, I have the red wallpaper and black floor memorized. When I reach the end, I stare at a black door. Behind me, I hear the scraping of the stone wall coming to squash me, so I instinctively open the

There was something spooky about this man, but she just let it slide. As she entered the castle, there was a huge ballroom like area with stairs on both sides of the room leading to the next level. She continued up the left side with him breathing down her neck, and turned left again. Shivers went up her spine. Right in front of her eyes was a dark, narrow hallway with, what seemed like a secret door at the end of the hallway. It was covered with thick cobwebs, obviously never opened in ages. She was surprised the man let her go this far She turned around to find empty space. She stopped in her tracks and looked down in front of her, and saw bloody footprints leading to the door at the end of the hallway. At least that’s what she thought. But the bloody footprints just vanished into thin air and she noticed there was an unknown door to her left. Some different dusty footprints were leading in there. Maybe the castle was a clue to a better life? Was I hallucinating, but from what? Her dad’s stories kept her curiosity up. She kept asking herself those questions, when all of a sudden she heard a phone ring. She searched around in confusion. As she saw the man raising a large butcher knife, she screamed “Noooo!!!!” She felt the knife slice her throat before she could even run away. Some say they can still hear her voice echo down the

Bewildered, she found herself not in the kitchen, but in the attic. For as long as she could remember, her parents had expressly forbidden her from entering the mysterious room. Now she understood why; At the far end of the room, among all of the clutter and jumble, was a door. In the light of day, Avery would not have given it a second glance, but in the half-light that emanated from her feeble candle, the door seemed different; Somehow eerie and sinister. Despite its great craftsmanship, years of wear had nevertheless taken their toll on the once delicate frame, and scratches etched their way across the old wooden panelling. Strings of whispers surrounded her, guiding her to towards the door. Slowly, she reached out one trembling hand, knowing that despite her fears, she must open it. What horrors, what wonders, lay on the other side? Avery pushed open the door and stepped

I leave my room and as I'm slowly walking down the white marble staircase, I'm gripping the wrought iron railing. So hard that if it was a person, they would've died from lack of oxygen by now.

As I was walking down the stairs with the creek of the old rudget wood, my cold heart began to tremble. Glancing with my dark brown eyes,the small doorknob began to turn. I saw a light flashing, and I knew then that I was going to figure out what was Does behind that tiny door.

I finally rolled out of bed and opened my eyes to reveal an isolated stone room with a bed dead in the center of it and nothing else to speak of. I opened the big, creaky door only to witness the lemon-sour light penetrating my eyes and overpowering the distant horizon. Then after a few paces, I opened another door which led straight the main hall where I was being awaited.