A short story I did for English in Year 7
I told myself I was being stupid, that werewolves and vampires didn’t exist. But I couldn’t shake that suspicious feeling I was being followed. I just stopped and then heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet.
I started walking again. Then I jogged; quickened to a run. The person, or thing I thought, also quickened its pace. I reached the English room, Rm. 3, and opened the door; the black glass pane shimmering with the light from my torch. I slammed the wooden door behind me; then slouched against it. I felt the rough grain of the wood against my back, through the fine material of my football shirt. Then the feel of my shirt changed. It began to get wet and sticky. Curious and intrigued, I turned. My torch shifted position slowly, dreading what I would see there. I gasped; then yelled. A red liquid was seeping through the door. A low, throaty growl came from the other side of it, and at the same time a scratching emitted from the thick wood.
Horrified, I backed into a table. I spun my torch round and saw my bag. Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump. My heart was beating fast again, no, faster. I picked up my bag and swung it over my shoulder and my torch swung to the teacher’s desk. At any other time I wouldn’t be able resist the temptation to peep into the teacher’s drawers, but now the temptation was strangely no more. One of the windows was open, strangely. A dark, icy wind tore through the room, rifling papers whilst chilling me to the bone marrow and deeper.
My torch flipped out of my hands, landing propped up against a table leg. I saw something flicker in the light. I shook my head, clearing it of stupid thoughts. I turned to the T.V. and saw, to my horror, it was on! It was something about Dracula, but I couldn’t hear as the volume was muted. I leaned over to pick my torch up. Chh. I heard it above the table. Terrified, I looked up. Thousands of bats were hanging from the ceiling. Their eyes were like black diamonds, glittering with a fey light. I scanned the bunch, eyes widening.
‘What the heck?’ I whispered. I knew school would be creepy, but this was just plain frightening. A shape detached itself from the rest and fluttered to the floor, dropping like a leaf. It landed on the desk and grew! Eventually, it stood up and leapt from the table. It didn’t reach the floor, but disappeared.
‘Hello, Mark,’ said a smooth voice, which was cold and harsh, tainted by evil. The voice was male and behind me!
‘Wh-who are you?’ I stuttered. I had turned white as the moon. Sound returned and I realised that the volume wasn’t muted on the T.V. I just hadn’t been listening, form the volume was on low. The scratching had come back, consistently and more powerfully.
‘Can’t you see? Shame,’ the thing replied.
I stumbled as I backed away again. I hoisted the shouldered bag higher, my mouth gaping, terrified. I knew I couldn’t use the door. Another blast of air chilled the room.