Exercise "Hope"
Word Count: 1739
Prompt: Hope
Caution violence and strong language.
Darkness came up to meet Claire. Falling hard on the wooden floor she gasped painfully as air got punched from her lungs. She lay still a moment quietly, her rasping breath stirring the dust under her. Tears escaped, mixing with dirt and blood that covered her face. Gulping air the girl raised herself slightly. Peering into the corridor in front of her. Searching. She strained her ears in the hope of picking up any noise around her. Nothing. Panting hard she closed her eyes and whispered a pleading prayer. Making promises and swearing to go to church. She would. Promise. Only could he help her get out of here? Please save her. No more going with boys to crappy places like this old house to make out. No. She would be a good girl. A good girl. Promise.
A noise from one of the old rooms to her left. She stopped breathing. Blue eyes snapped open again as she lay where she was in the long corridor. She was on the ground floor of the huge decapitated house. The front door wasn’t far. Just around the bend up ahead. Not far. She told herself. But the house was creaking in strange ways and the image of her now ex boyfriend lying upstairs with parts of his body torn out was calling to her. Whispering things whatever was in this house was planning to do to her. Dust and grime everywhere and she found it hard to breath. Fear paralysing her lungs. God she didn’t want to die. She bit her lips hard and tried to make her brain work again. Her phone was gone lost when she and Mike were fooling around upstairs. He had said it would be fun, that the place was cool as hell. That strange things happened here. Monsters, lived here. Claire had laughed and told him to shut up but then they had heard noises.
Scratching. Claws dragging along walls. She swallowed the sob that wanted to escape at the memory of the attack. It had suddenly gone quiet, too quiet. The hairs on the back of Claire’s neck had stood on end. There was something in the air. A tension, like before a storm. She never realised how terrifying silence could be. Staring at the closed door Claire had wished for some noise. Something to break the silence as she and Mike lay perched on the bed. All thoughts of fooling around were far away. Mike tried to laugh it off but she could see that he was scared. Then her wish had been granted. The silence broke. It had sounded like a hurricane running towards them. Smashing against the old door sending parts of it flying. The two of them had screamed. Both falling backwards over the large bed so they were then on the floor. Hiding behind it like the children they were. They were trapped. The only thing behind them was a wall and a window that opened up above a very, very high drop. Claire hadn’t’ realised at first that Mike had clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming. But even now she could still taste the dirt and his sweat. They had stared at each other, eyes boring into the other. Mike slowly took his hand away and signalled that he was going to look. All was silent again. Her heart stopped when he glanced over the bed. Eyes squinting in the dark. But he smiled grimly and rose slowly but before she could say a word something grabbed him. Rentched across the bed and then Claire covered her ears as the silence was broken again. There was a sickening sound of screaming and scratching. Tearing and crunching. There was last wail then everything went still. Claire could not hear anything but sensed movement. A brush of something soft against the bed covers. Claire crawled under the bed and very slowly wiggled across the floor. The years of grim and dead bugs her only company as she scraped along on ground. Sudden crushing weight jumped on the bed. Pinning her to the ground. She knocked chin off the ground sending sparks before the eyes with the sharp pain. She gritted her teeth and moved forward some more. The end of the bed close at hand. As she reached the other side she paused the weight on the bed moved in a deadly hush. The only thing giving away it presence of movement was the slight creaking of the bed. It was on the floor now. Where she had been. Sniffing and snuffling the ground. Don’t look back she chanted. Don’t look back. Run. Run. Run. The low growling noise made her start and with a quick clawing she was free from her confines and up and running. Making a break for the doorway she heard heavy padding. Scuffling noises. Just as she made over the threshold she slipped. Landing on her bum on something wet. Lifting her hand her let out a noise. Something akin to moan. Deep dread escaping from her soul as she saw in the twilight a dark liquid on her hand. A smell invaded her senses. Blood and other things that spelled out what Mike’s fate had been. His grey hoody, his favourite, lay there dark patches on it growing at it slowly soaked up it owners remains. Bile burned at the back of her mouth but then there was noises again. Scratching and, oh God, snarling. The bile receded as her stomach dropped like a stone at the sound. Moving she was moving again. Up and sliding on blood Claire started to stumble into a run. She made a hasty move for the stairs. The grand staircase, the centre piece of the house, creaked and groaned in protest as the girl few down missing steps. Feet touching the ground floor she hit the floor running and dashed for the front door. The suddenly the world changed. She had tripped and this was why she was now currently lying on the floor.
She rose to her hands and feet glancing around looking at everything in fear and suspicion. She could taste blood in the mouth as her lip was now a bloody pulp after Claire nervous biting. Not far. So close. Her mind murmured. Crawling on all fours she shuffled over the a table against the wall and climbed under it. Curling up she hugged her knees and listened. Claire new she couldn’t stay here for long. Her body was already beginning to freeze up out of fear, shock, sheer fucking dread. It could take it’s pick. Rubbing her eyes she tucked dark hair matted with dirt and blood behind her ears. The vague thought that it was going to take forever for her to get her hair in any sort of semblance of looking good again, and she would never get the smell of this place off her buzzed in the back of her mind. It wasn’t just her hands that smelled of death but the whole place. It reeked, from every pealing ceiling to every grim covered floor, in every room. Tucking her head into her knees she whispered parts of prayers that she remembered. She had to get out. Get help. Pushing the hysteria that threatened to grab her she crawled out from her hiding place and stood up. She paused all senses attuned to anything that stirred. There was nothing. Silence. She was beginning to hate it again. It reminded her that there was nothing around. No roads, cars, people or help. Gulping her head snapped in the direction of the door. But she would get out of here and find help. Her flimsy resolve helped her move her feet. One foot in front of the other. Moving in a slowly stead pace for freedom.
Claire got to the turn in the corridor and paused. Peeking around there was nothing. A rumbling noise over her head had Claire cowering in fear as she looked up. When all was still she cast her gaze back to where she was and suddenly spotted something. There was the front door. Twilight spilling through the huge windows situated in the large door situated at the end of the corridor. She was nearly there. Just the sight of the old piece of wood gave her a sliver of hope. It was all she had. Pressing herself against the wall she slowly slid along towards it. Freedom. It was within her grasp. Closer and closer. Till she could almost smell the cool, fresh night air. She had made it the door hand just a reach away and she grabbed on to it, the brass handle cool and slippery against her sweaty palms. She wrenched the door but it didn’t move. Claire grunted and tried again but to no avail. She couldn’t open the door. She looked down and saw why. There was a huge foot blocking it movement. A foot covered in hair and long cruel nails tapped against the wooden floor. Everything drained out Claire’s body as her eyes looked up, gazing into the shadow by her side. Something low rumbled in its darkness.
“You tricked me” she whispered, her voice breaking on every syllable. Growling answered her as a shape moved from its hiding place. Claire stared as the body unfolded from where it had been and stood towering before her. Powerful hind quarters tensed as they supported the bulky torso and cruel eyes started at her over a muzzle still matted in the blood of her boyfriend. It leaned down close to her face sniffing her. It’s putrid breath puffing gently over her face. All hope left her as she stood paralysed before the beast. This was the end. There wasn’t going to be any help. She was going to stay here with the dust and the dirt and the blood and never be able to smell the air outside ever again. She felt a strange calm come over her as it stood up again and roared. Descending on her, all teeth and claws, a last thought crept into her head making her almost laugh. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about her hair now. But no laugh escaped Claire. If the couple had paid attention to the stories they would have realised that nothing ever escaped that house.
Out side the cool breeze stopped and all was still.
Prompt: Hope
Caution violence and strong language.
Darkness came up to meet Claire. Falling hard on the wooden floor she gasped painfully as air got punched from her lungs. She lay still a moment quietly, her rasping breath stirring the dust under her. Tears escaped, mixing with dirt and blood that covered her face. Gulping air the girl raised herself slightly. Peering into the corridor in front of her. Searching. She strained her ears in the hope of picking up any noise around her. Nothing. Panting hard she closed her eyes and whispered a pleading prayer. Making promises and swearing to go to church. She would. Promise. Only could he help her get out of here? Please save her. No more going with boys to crappy places like this old house to make out. No. She would be a good girl. A good girl. Promise.
A noise from one of the old rooms to her left. She stopped breathing. Blue eyes snapped open again as she lay where she was in the long corridor. She was on the ground floor of the huge decapitated house. The front door wasn’t far. Just around the bend up ahead. Not far. She told herself. But the house was creaking in strange ways and the image of her now ex boyfriend lying upstairs with parts of his body torn out was calling to her. Whispering things whatever was in this house was planning to do to her. Dust and grime everywhere and she found it hard to breath. Fear paralysing her lungs. God she didn’t want to die. She bit her lips hard and tried to make her brain work again. Her phone was gone lost when she and Mike were fooling around upstairs. He had said it would be fun, that the place was cool as hell. That strange things happened here. Monsters, lived here. Claire had laughed and told him to shut up but then they had heard noises.
Scratching. Claws dragging along walls. She swallowed the sob that wanted to escape at the memory of the attack. It had suddenly gone quiet, too quiet. The hairs on the back of Claire’s neck had stood on end. There was something in the air. A tension, like before a storm. She never realised how terrifying silence could be. Staring at the closed door Claire had wished for some noise. Something to break the silence as she and Mike lay perched on the bed. All thoughts of fooling around were far away. Mike tried to laugh it off but she could see that he was scared. Then her wish had been granted. The silence broke. It had sounded like a hurricane running towards them. Smashing against the old door sending parts of it flying. The two of them had screamed. Both falling backwards over the large bed so they were then on the floor. Hiding behind it like the children they were. They were trapped. The only thing behind them was a wall and a window that opened up above a very, very high drop. Claire hadn’t’ realised at first that Mike had clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming. But even now she could still taste the dirt and his sweat. They had stared at each other, eyes boring into the other. Mike slowly took his hand away and signalled that he was going to look. All was silent again. Her heart stopped when he glanced over the bed. Eyes squinting in the dark. But he smiled grimly and rose slowly but before she could say a word something grabbed him. Rentched across the bed and then Claire covered her ears as the silence was broken again. There was a sickening sound of screaming and scratching. Tearing and crunching. There was last wail then everything went still. Claire could not hear anything but sensed movement. A brush of something soft against the bed covers. Claire crawled under the bed and very slowly wiggled across the floor. The years of grim and dead bugs her only company as she scraped along on ground. Sudden crushing weight jumped on the bed. Pinning her to the ground. She knocked chin off the ground sending sparks before the eyes with the sharp pain. She gritted her teeth and moved forward some more. The end of the bed close at hand. As she reached the other side she paused the weight on the bed moved in a deadly hush. The only thing giving away it presence of movement was the slight creaking of the bed. It was on the floor now. Where she had been. Sniffing and snuffling the ground. Don’t look back she chanted. Don’t look back. Run. Run. Run. The low growling noise made her start and with a quick clawing she was free from her confines and up and running. Making a break for the doorway she heard heavy padding. Scuffling noises. Just as she made over the threshold she slipped. Landing on her bum on something wet. Lifting her hand her let out a noise. Something akin to moan. Deep dread escaping from her soul as she saw in the twilight a dark liquid on her hand. A smell invaded her senses. Blood and other things that spelled out what Mike’s fate had been. His grey hoody, his favourite, lay there dark patches on it growing at it slowly soaked up it owners remains. Bile burned at the back of her mouth but then there was noises again. Scratching and, oh God, snarling. The bile receded as her stomach dropped like a stone at the sound. Moving she was moving again. Up and sliding on blood Claire started to stumble into a run. She made a hasty move for the stairs. The grand staircase, the centre piece of the house, creaked and groaned in protest as the girl few down missing steps. Feet touching the ground floor she hit the floor running and dashed for the front door. The suddenly the world changed. She had tripped and this was why she was now currently lying on the floor.
She rose to her hands and feet glancing around looking at everything in fear and suspicion. She could taste blood in the mouth as her lip was now a bloody pulp after Claire nervous biting. Not far. So close. Her mind murmured. Crawling on all fours she shuffled over the a table against the wall and climbed under it. Curling up she hugged her knees and listened. Claire new she couldn’t stay here for long. Her body was already beginning to freeze up out of fear, shock, sheer fucking dread. It could take it’s pick. Rubbing her eyes she tucked dark hair matted with dirt and blood behind her ears. The vague thought that it was going to take forever for her to get her hair in any sort of semblance of looking good again, and she would never get the smell of this place off her buzzed in the back of her mind. It wasn’t just her hands that smelled of death but the whole place. It reeked, from every pealing ceiling to every grim covered floor, in every room. Tucking her head into her knees she whispered parts of prayers that she remembered. She had to get out. Get help. Pushing the hysteria that threatened to grab her she crawled out from her hiding place and stood up. She paused all senses attuned to anything that stirred. There was nothing. Silence. She was beginning to hate it again. It reminded her that there was nothing around. No roads, cars, people or help. Gulping her head snapped in the direction of the door. But she would get out of here and find help. Her flimsy resolve helped her move her feet. One foot in front of the other. Moving in a slowly stead pace for freedom.
Claire got to the turn in the corridor and paused. Peeking around there was nothing. A rumbling noise over her head had Claire cowering in fear as she looked up. When all was still she cast her gaze back to where she was and suddenly spotted something. There was the front door. Twilight spilling through the huge windows situated in the large door situated at the end of the corridor. She was nearly there. Just the sight of the old piece of wood gave her a sliver of hope. It was all she had. Pressing herself against the wall she slowly slid along towards it. Freedom. It was within her grasp. Closer and closer. Till she could almost smell the cool, fresh night air. She had made it the door hand just a reach away and she grabbed on to it, the brass handle cool and slippery against her sweaty palms. She wrenched the door but it didn’t move. Claire grunted and tried again but to no avail. She couldn’t open the door. She looked down and saw why. There was a huge foot blocking it movement. A foot covered in hair and long cruel nails tapped against the wooden floor. Everything drained out Claire’s body as her eyes looked up, gazing into the shadow by her side. Something low rumbled in its darkness.
“You tricked me” she whispered, her voice breaking on every syllable. Growling answered her as a shape moved from its hiding place. Claire stared as the body unfolded from where it had been and stood towering before her. Powerful hind quarters tensed as they supported the bulky torso and cruel eyes started at her over a muzzle still matted in the blood of her boyfriend. It leaned down close to her face sniffing her. It’s putrid breath puffing gently over her face. All hope left her as she stood paralysed before the beast. This was the end. There wasn’t going to be any help. She was going to stay here with the dust and the dirt and the blood and never be able to smell the air outside ever again. She felt a strange calm come over her as it stood up again and roared. Descending on her, all teeth and claws, a last thought crept into her head making her almost laugh. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about her hair now. But no laugh escaped Claire. If the couple had paid attention to the stories they would have realised that nothing ever escaped that house.
Out side the cool breeze stopped and all was still.