Knives and Shadows

This was originally a creative writing task I did for school... but I thought you lovely people might want to have a play with it.

It was raining. All around the cold, hard droplets slammed into the uneven ground like tiny silver bullets, staining the dirty cobbled roads the colour of dried blood. The sky to was as dark and forbidding as a funeral shroud, casting ominous twisted shadows against the hollow remains of derelict houses. At the end of the street a lone lampost stood out against the gloom, its tiny light flickering weakly against the encroaching shadows, sending them twisting and writhing against the walls like evil hunch-backed spirits.

A lone figure huddled beneath the lampost, face barely visible beneath the shadow of a hat pulled low over its face. A pair of wide black eyes darted about, flicking through the dark as if expecting some nameless horror to leap out of the shadows. Beyond the tiny puddle of light beneath the lampost, all was still. The empty holes of windowpanes glared malevolently out of the twilight, like bottomless abysses gouged into the iron grey stone. Aside from the hammering of rain on stone, the only other sound was the mournful creaking of the splintered remains of doors. In the eerie quiet, their groans sounded like the pitiful cries of the lost ghosts who were said to wander the empty streets that had once been their homes.

The thought of ghosts made the figure benath the lampost shiver. He knew he shouldn’t have been there; he’d known that from the moment he’d set foot in this place. However, he knew he had no choice. Even though every instinct and fibre of his being screamed at him to flee, he forced himself to stand his ground. In spite of the biting cold, pelting rain and the fear that tightened its cold fingers around his heart, he gritted his teeth and continued his lonely vigil.

Watching. Waiting.

The End

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