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How To Write A Gothic Story

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My breathing intensified as I heard his heavy foot steps on the creaky wooden stairs to the basement. I looked around panicking. I could practically see my breath in the stale cold air of the grungy dark basement. The floor was cold and made of concrete, walls made of brick, no windows to see out. The only furniture was a few dusty shelfs, a old mattress on the floor, and the chain attached to the handcuffs around my bruised wrist. Oh how bad they hurt. The foot steps grew louder and I could make out the dark figure standing there at the bottom of the stairs. It said nothing. They just stared. Could they perhaps see me? No, it's almost pitch dark here. "WHAT DO YOU WANT", I screamed as strongly as I could. The black figure began to come

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