Creative Writing: Rabid Wolf

I lugged my bags up to my room and collapsed onto the bed. It was on the second floor of the house and the window looked out over the backyard that was shadowed by the surrounding forest. The floor was covered in light grey carpet and the wall painted a plain off white. A dark, wooden bed took up most of the room, pale fairy lights haphazardly thrown along the headboard. Two matching bedside tables sat on either side of the bed and an empty desk sat opposite it.

“Yes I am dad.” Kevin screaming at the top of his lungs,” Mr.Cromwell needs to go!” While Howie and Kevin argued ,Cromwell was over there eating Kevin’s breakfast, waffles. It was too late, Howie and Kevin turned around ,the waffles were gone.Kevin and Howie went straight over to doggy daycare. Cromwell had stayed 1 hour knowing he wanted to leave.

Then some of people noticed a new guest, dress as a clothes of the Red Death. Everyone was freaking out because of him. When Prince Prospero saw this guy, he became angry and asked courtiers to seize him and unmask him. But no one have the courage to do it, including Prospero himself. The Red Death walked through the rooms, heading toward the black room. Prospero chased him with taking his dagger. Prospero reached the edge of the dark room, the Red Death suddenly turned to face him, and Prospero fell on the ground and dead. "Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revelers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony

However, I abruptly paused, seeing the golden glint on the frame around the mirror. The creature I had seen, was me. I collapsed onto the ground, pain being remembered again, and my limbs giving out.

I was falling. The seconds felt like centuries as I plummeted to my death. Silence around me, time and space seemed frozen in motion.

I could feel the mirror closing behind him. All the cerulean swirls losing their magic as my blood spilled out from underneath me, into the wet, stone below.

My body slowly responds as I become aware of my surroundings. My fingers curl around soft bed sheets and I vaguely hear the sound of clinking pots and humming. To get away from the sound, I turn my body over and get a face full of couch cushion. For a second, I can’t breathe and I’m transported back to the horrors of my escape. Paul’s hands are around my throat. Glassy eyes staring up at me in a pool of red blood. I’m choking on floating hair, dead limbs, and water. There’s so much water I can’t seem to get a breath. If I go to the surface I’m dead. Water swirls around me and then all is black. I sit up with a gasp of air.

I gingerly placed my fingers on the cold glass of the mirror, causing it to move like jelly. It startled me, but I kept my hand where it was. Suddenly, I was jerked toward the mirror, being pulled inside. My stomach lurched and

Every time I walked past my bathroom door (which was constantly since it was right outside my bedroom) I saw a little girl with blond curled hair and a rose-colored dress. She just stood there, staring, looking like a photograph from 1905. I started keeping the door closed so I could walk by without seeing her, but she was always there when I opened it. Once I stepped in past her, I couldn't see her anymore but I could feel her there. She scared me, but I felt really sorry for her because she was trapped there, just like me, but probably

I was pitched backwards, my head slamming into the headrest and I felt my stomach drop, as if I had fallen off a skyscraper.

“Well first you can't leave since you already know who we are, second if you leave the Empresses gourds will probably kill you either impaling you or shooting you to death, so looks like your gonna have to join us and defeat the Empress of Souls.” Glen implied.

Paisley and Jason´s shop is on 16th street avenue. They work together seven days a week.They used to live

I once knew a place once perfect. Where I could wonder, and become lost in the wind of the summer breeze. It seemed like lightyears had passed since the day I filled my lungs with the fresh scent of dew drops of early summer mornings. The memories of the fresh air I once breathed was frozen in time and now served as stories to tell. I took hold of a glass of dirty warm water and downed the foul tasting liquid like a parched camel and wiped the collected dew off my thick beard. Things were rather perfect here and despite the air smelling like wet lawn clippings this was a perfect place; enough to keep me alive. I placed the glass on back on the far side of the desk and accidently nudged a picture frame off the edge. It landed on the hard wooden

I must have lost my footing somehow during my slip through the mirror because I fall out of it and crashed with a with a painful thud on my bedroom floor. I looked up. My room was dark, but a door was ajar in the kitchen, and light from a fixture stretched across the hallway. I untangled my feet and rose. Then silently crept into the living room, hid behind the sofa, and peeked over the top. Gordok sitting at the table eating some kind of green gunk and giggling with a group of witches.

Was that just a dream or was it reality? Did I want that to be a dream or reality? I wanted to meet him, but was that the way I wanted it to happen? I, myself don’t even know as I feel my head becoming numb. Walking back to my apartment I think, “I don’t want to make an omelet