Creative Writing: The Haunted House

“Some people say I was lucky to survive, other will say I deserved it for the choice I made. I’m here to say I was lucky, it’s never ok to say your life isn’t worth living even at your worst you can always look forward tomorrow will come and if you put your mind to it you’ll see that anything is possible.” – Stephen McGregor Professional Paralympian

Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.

"This isn't some joke, or some play, where she's going to get up the second we leave, or the curtains drawn and bow to the audience. The woman is dead Olivia, slaughtered like a calf. I don't think you realise that." His eyes found hers, and the anger dissipated, his tone becoming one more of disappointment, then excuses. "Now, let's get on our way. I don't know what came over me, I must have imbibed too much last night, but this stench isn't helping me. Having recovered some of his composure, and ensuring his back remained to the mess on the doorstep, the man managed to force a smile, "A hair of the dog will be just the trick, and I know just the place." If the East End was good for anything, it was for the ability to indulge your vices, at any hour of the day, and the equality it offered. God Forbid, some of the drinking establishments even allowed

Everyone has judged someone before they get to know them, sometimes you can even do it on accident. My personal experience in judging someone before getting to know them was when I meet my step-brother Carson for the first time. When I first met Carson I was about 6 years old and he was around 10 years old. I was at his house in Florida that I had never been to before, so I was scared already, so when I went upstairs to grab something from my bag I saw him for the first time, he was coming around the corner really fast and was wasn’t paying attention and ran right into me. The first thoughts that came to mind was that he was big and scary and he just hurt me. But after I got to know him I realized he wasn’t really scary at all, it was just

“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.

By nightfall they had finished all of the burials. It was depressing to see how many people were dead, even more so knowing that wasn’t the majority of them. Several times throughout the day new carcasses were dumped carelessly on the dwindling pile, just adding another hole to dig.

I took his hand and helped him off the floor and directed him outside. It was still dark with a hint of flame rising on the peaks of the city. I glanced at Gatsby as I directed him outside, away from the scene. I couldn’t read any emotion behind his vacant, petrified

“You cut you’re beautiful, long hair after your return. Mom thought you were in protesting the war, but I saw you two. I knew the real reason you cut the longest blond braid in the neighborhood.”

Wes was exhausted. It was Monday morning, an no amount of coffee could help him at this point, he was a lost cause. He had gotten about half an hour of sleep the night before while doing more ghost research. He had only slept at all because he tripped over a few art supplies left over from when he was making his charts, and decided that the floor was somewhat comfortable and it was worth too much effort to get up. His father found him in the morning, choosing to ignore the creepy pictures of both Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom tacked to the wall. Thankfully, all Walter said was to clean his room as soon as possible, because frankly, his room was a complete mess. Everything from sharpies and bottles of superglue to cassette tapes about ghosts

Once Freak and Max started school, a lot of kids were teasing them, saying Max had no brain, and Freak was a midget. My first impression of them, once school started, was that the two were odd, especially considering this was school and they were brave enough to march around a class, with Freak on Max’s shoulders. If I were to be their friend or tease them, I would most likely be their friend. Personally, I enjoy quirky people and these two fall under the category. I would probably find it amusing to see a small, disabled kid riding on top of someone as tall as Max’s shoulders, chanting their “name”, and getting the rest of the class in on it too. Before Freak the Mighty made an appearance, I might have stood up for Max when they were teasing

I was taken up, put in a chair at the side, and told to keep my mouth shut by the teacher, who

On the sixth road of the sixth block and the sixth house lies 666 devil blood curdling lane, the outside is not furnished seeing into the dead room of the ninth story. When seeing this blackened smoke house where the sun never shines it will send tingles of despite and sorrow ness down your broken back and a shrilled noise through your ear. The shape shifter at the front of the house will beguile you in right before they change into a soul sucking monster, and will suck the life right out of you and use your bones as they new walkway going into the big mysterious bold blackened door. When the ninety year old trees lean over to all the bedroom's windows it will keep you up all night with the screeching sound of it scratching on the window.

When Dutch felt they were a safe distance away, he pulled off the road. He and Gilbert jumped out, yanked the Water Company wording and emblems off the truck, and threw them a good distance from the road. Dutch and Gilbert ran to the back of the truck, looked in, and met the gaze of Marcel, Dorian and Saban. They stared at each other in wide-eyed amazement. Marcel chuckled—then laughed. Then they all laughed. They laughed so hard, tears filled their eyes. Even Cedric who was lying on his stomach on the floor of the truck was smiling. With the tension quelled, they regained their composure. Marcel cautioned Dutch to stay off the main roads. By now the Germans were broadcasting news of the raid and checkpoints would be everywhere. Marcel told

David wasn't happy about moving, especially moving into a haunted house. Well, he wasn't sure that it was haunted. After all, he'd only ever seen it in a single picture. But David knew that an old house out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees, could never mean anything good.

At last I spotted the gates of the burnt castle, lurking in the mist under the shadow of night. The rusted birds perched upon the gate which curled like the long hair of a gracious maiden, had likely remained in the same positions for two centuries, along with the unnatural ever-lasting bloom of the metal roses. Weathered gargoyles guarded the castle grounds, their eyes pouring spiteful remarks to whomever dared look in them. As the faint and melancholy glow of the moonlight began to seep through the branches of the wilting willows, the cold, damp ground shimmered like spun glass dancing across the floor.