Just practising writing stories. Nothing special, but I hope you enjoy it. :)
I ran up the hill, past the jagged rocks, panting fiercely. I hoped that nothing was following me, even though it felt like someone or something was behind me, lurking silently. I saw something flicker through the leafless trees. A light in a house maybe? Maybe I was getting close to home. The hoped rised in my chest. I ran. Faster than ever. I didn't want to find out what was following me. The path was getting harder to run on, more rocks and sticks, but that didn't stop me. It felt like the light was either getting dimmer, or further away. My heart pounded like a drum in my chest. It was cold and dark, and I didn't have a clue where I was. After what felt like hours of running, I reached the source of the light, and it felt like my heart had stopped. What I thought was a house, it was in fact a tower. A giant, crooked tower. It loomed over me ferociously, but invitingly. I edged further and further to the house. Each step felt like a jolt of electricity, telling me to go further, but my legs wouldn't go fast enough. I reached the intimidating doors and opened them slowly, not trying to make them creak, but they still did. Something about this house made me feel queezy. It took me all my strength to take my first step into the house but when I did, my hope and courage was overshadowed by an uneasy sense of foreboding...