Sylvie 100wc

Jagged, broken, dead. The only sound heard was the sound of old branches creaking. A spindly spiderweb covered the brass door handle, swaying in the soft breeze. A gust of wind flew past as I stood on the house’s porch. I coughed into my tattered overcoat, which was flying in the breeze. I took a photo of one of my remaining pockets, black and white. In the photo, my parents stood, holding hands. A sudden chill fell across me as I held the golden key to the door in my palm and turned the lock. Then I saw the blood…

Clay 100WC

Every time I walked home from school there was that one old blue door just standing¬† with nothing holding it. A handle and nothing else. I opened the door. There was some substance behind the door that I walked through. I didn’t like sight in front of my eyes. There was dead bodies all over the floor. I turned back but there was no door there any more just an old doorbell so I pressed it. Suddenly something grabbed my ankle I looked down and a decaying hand had locked around my foot and all the other bodies were rising.

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