In The Dark, Dark Night
In The Dark, Dark Night
In the dark, dark woods, there was a dark, dark house.
Amy stepped around the trees, her eyes wide. The moon threw cold light on the winter evening as she went, her boots crunching quietly on the leaves that littered the ground. Autumn was just gone, and night was creeping in.
She brushed the hair out of her eyes, feeling lost. She was sure she was going in circles. Suddenly, she knew where to go; a clearing in the trees. She ran forward, peeking out from behind a tree that seemed so skeletal. Here it was, the house she was searching for.
In the dark, dark house, there was a dark, dark staircase.
She ran up the driveway of the imposing house. Pushing the second thoughts out of her head, she looked at the piece of paper that she had taken out of her pocket mere moments ago.
Her friend had told her all about this place, the thing that she was now looking for, without realising that she would come looking. It couldn’t be as bad as her friend had sad. Amy took a breath, and pushed the door. Unlocked, it swung open, creaking like an unoiled gate.
Up the dark, dark staircase, there was a dark, dark corridor.
Compared to the howl of the wind outside, the silence inside was deafening. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the staircase to her left. She took a step into the darkness, towards it.
Smiling impishly, she crept up to the higher floor, the creak of the stairs breaking the heavy silence. The corridor at the top of the stairs was pitch black; there was no way her eyes could see, no matter how much they adjusted. She flickered on her torch.
In the dark, dark corridor, there was a dark, dark door.
Amy stood, staring at a door which was at the end of the corridor. She remembered what her friend had said, remembered when she had left, to leave behind the temptation she said she had felt. Amy missed her. Why did the house feel so cold, as if it was frozen in time?
Amy wondered where her friend was now. She’d run away at barely sixteen, she’d said goodbye and hadn’t turned back. Would she ever see her again? Had she found what she’d been hoping to find? Amy hoped so, and stepped up to the door. It was ajar.
Through the dark, dark door, there was a dark, dark room.
Swinging the torch around, she noticed first the furniture, or the lack of it. This was definitely the right room. The floor was bare and, although the room was small, the couple of items of furniture were tucked into corners. This room had been locked most of the time when her friend had lived here…
The only things in the room were as plain as the dingy wallpaper. A wooden table near the door was dark wood, as was the floor. The curtains swung in a breeze; Amy shivered and shut the window. She had a bad feeling; none of the doors were locked. Why would you unlock all the doors before running away?
In the dark, dark room, there were some dark, dark shelves.
In the far corner, overthrown with shadow and covered in dust, was a tall bookcase, it stretched from the floor to nearly the ceiling. Amy walked past the table and chair, straight to the bookcase, spider webs adorned the corners like decorations.
It was a cabinet at the bottom, until about knee height. The doors on that were probably the only locked doors in the house, although the keys were above, under a layer of dust. Five shelves sat above, mostly filled with books as dusty as everything else.
On the dark, dark shelves, there was a dark, dark box.
It had started raining. Amy took the legendary box, the one her best friend had told her all about, warned her about. It was dark and patterned, exactly as her friend had described it.
She blew off the dust, wondering why her friend had never opened it. Was it locked? No, there wasn’t a lock. What was is it? Full of curiosity, Amy snapped open the lid.
And in the dark, dark box…
Lightning flashed outside the window, as thunder shook the house. An electric light lit up the room as Amy screamed in terror and fell to the floor; the storm was closer than she had thought. The box lay by her feet, and the piece of paper inside had fluttered out.
A fire had started in the woods, close to the house. Amy picked up the note and read it. The fear in her eyes brought them wide open, she looked at the chaos outside of the window.
“Pandora, how could you? Curiosity killed the cat, and you opened the box! There’s no stopping what happens now, honey. Signed, your aunts.”
Amy stepped around the trees, her eyes wide. The moon threw cold light on the winter evening as she went, her boots crunching quietly on the leaves that littered the ground. Autumn was just gone, and night was creeping in.
She brushed the hair out of her eyes, feeling lost. She was sure she was going in circles. Suddenly, she knew where to go; a clearing in the trees. She ran forward, peeking out from behind a tree that seemed so skeletal. Here it was, the house she was searching for.
In the dark, dark house, there was a dark, dark staircase.
She ran up the driveway of the imposing house. Pushing the second thoughts out of her head, she looked at the piece of paper that she had taken out of her pocket mere moments ago.
Her friend had told her all about this place, the thing that she was now looking for, without realising that she would come looking. It couldn’t be as bad as her friend had sad. Amy took a breath, and pushed the door. Unlocked, it swung open, creaking like an unoiled gate.
Up the dark, dark staircase, there was a dark, dark corridor.
Compared to the howl of the wind outside, the silence inside was deafening. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the staircase to her left. She took a step into the darkness, towards it.
Smiling impishly, she crept up to the higher floor, the creak of the stairs breaking the heavy silence. The corridor at the top of the stairs was pitch black; there was no way her eyes could see, no matter how much they adjusted. She flickered on her torch.
In the dark, dark corridor, there was a dark, dark door.
Amy stood, staring at a door which was at the end of the corridor. She remembered what her friend had said, remembered when she had left, to leave behind the temptation she said she had felt. Amy missed her. Why did the house feel so cold, as if it was frozen in time?
Amy wondered where her friend was now. She’d run away at barely sixteen, she’d said goodbye and hadn’t turned back. Would she ever see her again? Had she found what she’d been hoping to find? Amy hoped so, and stepped up to the door. It was ajar.
Through the dark, dark door, there was a dark, dark room.
Swinging the torch around, she noticed first the furniture, or the lack of it. This was definitely the right room. The floor was bare and, although the room was small, the couple of items of furniture were tucked into corners. This room had been locked most of the time when her friend had lived here…
The only things in the room were as plain as the dingy wallpaper. A wooden table near the door was dark wood, as was the floor. The curtains swung in a breeze; Amy shivered and shut the window. She had a bad feeling; none of the doors were locked. Why would you unlock all the doors before running away?
In the dark, dark room, there were some dark, dark shelves.
In the far corner, overthrown with shadow and covered in dust, was a tall bookcase, it stretched from the floor to nearly the ceiling. Amy walked past the table and chair, straight to the bookcase, spider webs adorned the corners like decorations.
It was a cabinet at the bottom, until about knee height. The doors on that were probably the only locked doors in the house, although the keys were above, under a layer of dust. Five shelves sat above, mostly filled with books as dusty as everything else.
On the dark, dark shelves, there was a dark, dark box.
It had started raining. Amy took the legendary box, the one her best friend had told her all about, warned her about. It was dark and patterned, exactly as her friend had described it.
She blew off the dust, wondering why her friend had never opened it. Was it locked? No, there wasn’t a lock. What was is it? Full of curiosity, Amy snapped open the lid.
And in the dark, dark box…
Lightning flashed outside the window, as thunder shook the house. An electric light lit up the room as Amy screamed in terror and fell to the floor; the storm was closer than she had thought. The box lay by her feet, and the piece of paper inside had fluttered out.
A fire had started in the woods, close to the house. Amy picked up the note and read it. The fear in her eyes brought them wide open, she looked at the chaos outside of the window.
“Pandora, how could you? Curiosity killed the cat, and you opened the box! There’s no stopping what happens now, honey. Signed, your aunts.”