October 22, 2017 by thewashingteenian
By Isabella Hendershot
I walk up to an old house, surrounded by old, decaying, wilting, weeping trees. The house itself looks as if it has an unsettling personality.
From where I stand I can see the cracked and chipped paint. The floorboards of the porch look to be rotting away. The old shutters are broken and some are even hanging there by a nail.
Through some of the windows I can see the thin, dark, ripped curtains. Shadows of object’s, cracked, old, and broken.
It could have been my imagination but through the top window I think I could see the shadow of a man looking down at me. I saw the red glowing eyes, sharp teeth through a wicked smile and the unsettling and tall shadow. I dismiss the thought that this person is even real or that if he is that he is dangerous.
As I take my things inside the seemingly old and broken white house, I see old and dusty blood red couches and chairs, what was once an elegant and beautifully made bookshelf that is filled with old, dusty, thick books.
Inside the house I can hear the moaning and groaning of the house and creaky floors. I can hear the moaning and creaking turn into weeping. It’s like the house has a personality of its own.
When I look into a room I see the dusty and broken object’s. I can hear the continuous weeping from the house, almost as if it’s being haunted by its past visitors.
I can see a dusty bed and chair in the corners of the dark room that is only lite by the dim glow of the moon. I can see the chips in the paint and glass.
Inside the house it feels and looks as if with each passing guests the light and life of the house, even the surroundings outside, have been and are continuing to be drained and is never coming back.
I set my things on the old bed with dusty covers.
“I guess this is where I will be staying from now on,” I say to myself and I look around the room to see what’s there. I lay on the surprisingly comfortable bed and I hear soft footsteps coming down the hall.
The footsteps were coming toward the room that I was in, I got curious and slowly but soundly got off the bed and walked toward the door. I slowly peek my head around the corner of the door but no one was there in the hall. I dismissed the idea that I heard footsteps and go to turn around.
When I turn around there is a man standing behind me. He has a wicked smile on his
face, I see two sharp teeth that look to be fangs. I know it’s no use in trying to scream for help, this house is in the middle of nowhere with no one around for miles and miles.
The man, I now realize, is the one I thought I saw in the window looking down at me. His eyes had a blood red iris and on a small outer ring it was pitch black. Underneath of his eyes you could see faint dark red and black veins.
It reminded me of a creature I have read about when I was reading mythology stories.
It’s said that this creature with blood red and black eyes, sharp and fang like teeth, it would thirst for blood, when it did the veins underneath of their eyes would start to show. It’s said these creatures were very dangerous, they still could walk the earth with us.
Any supernatural or mythological creature can still be walking among us. It was kind of amazing to think about. The thought that interested me immensely and I’ve always wanted to know if there was really mythical creatures living in the real world.
This creature in front of me right now was proof that they were real.
To be continued….