Blood Puddle
Abby Staniland
(Birmingham)
It was following me…
I made my way up the mouldy, wooden steps, checking behind me every second. Suddenly, a trail of blood chased me up the steps, as if someone was pouring it from a bucket besides my feet. I ran as fast as I could but it felt like I was taking one step forward and two steps back: getting nowhere fast.
Eventually, I reached the intimidating front door, which I hurriedly snatched open. It creaked spookily. Working up my courage, I stepped inside that bloodcurdling house, regretting every move I took. My footsteps echoed around the room. Melted candles, crumpled tatty carpets and glistening spider-webs painted the room. I was distracted by a breath-taking, beautiful vase of red roses.
All at once, a cold chill slithered down my spine as eerie giggles repeated in my icy, cold ears. I swivelled around. Ha, I was so stupid… nothing. The snigger grew louder. I secured my eyes tightly shut-telling myself it was all my imagination. Taking a deep breath, inhaling in a bloody rose smell, I prized my eyes back open.
In front of me stood a girl. Her black hair falling past her eyes, hands covered in bright, red blood… the blood which was coming from the knife in my chest…