by Steph, age 13
(Poole, Dorset U.K.)
It was a dark night. Frost was beginning to settle on the cold concrete ground, as small clear snowflakes dripped from the sky. The trees lingered covering the scarce moonlight, making it impossible to see. A shrill scream can be heard in the distance, hovering in midair for a short moment before gently floating away.
There’s a girl in view. Wearing a ragged old dress torn here and there. Her hair a mess, as the wind blows it swiftly back. Blood drips from her pale forehead from a great gash. Her eyes are fixed to you, watching you closely, as though she’s scared of your reaction to her.
A cold ghostly feeling runs through you, as her right arm points in your direction. A loud noise rings through your ears as she shouts words at you that you don’t understand. Gently she moves towards you, her eyes peering into, you burning you almost. A glint of silver looks before you as she pierces your cold skin, the pain rippling though your body. She watches you fall roughly to the floor.
You wake up. As your eyes swivel round the room you feel relieved to find she’s not there. Sweat runs down your body and your hand reaches to wipe your chest, but its not sweat. Your hands are covered in a red substance, its blood.
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