Creative Writing
Jack heaved the creaking door open until he had created just enough space to squeeze through. As he stepped cautiously into the dark room, a cloud of dust awoke from where it had sat dormant, making Jack’s eyes water. Clearing his throat quietly, he looked around, before perching precariously on the corner of a cluttered desk. Jack picked up the nearest thing to him; a stained taupe1 leather diary, locked with only an abandoned cobweb, the key long since scuttled away. Opening the fragile cover carefully, he flicked through the starchy crackling pages of spidery scrawl, and began to read…
The wind sliced into my skin, cutting like a butcher’s knife through raw meat, as I hurried onwards, making my way through the overgrown forest, pulling my coat around my shivering body to try and protect myself. The feeling that someone was following me gnawed at the edges of my mind as I travelled, and with every step my inner-conscience urged me to turn back but I couldn’t; this was a matter of life or death, and I had to push myself no matter how much it hurt. The remaining shards of my confidence were all too quickly stolen though, as out of the corner of my eye I saw something fly through the corbeau2 undergrowth. I froze, my heart beat fast; pounding erratically3 against my chest as I scanned the shadows for any sign of life, but I neither saw or heard a thing. A feeling of dread washed over my bones as I slowly looked up. I couldn’t hear any owls, or birds, not even wolves in the far off distance howling up to the flavescent4 moon; I was completely alone. Shivering slightly, I turned and hurried on, trying to shake off the ever-present feeling of being watched.
As the dimming umber sun sank further down towards its slumber, and the whey moon took its place, I forged on; the trees were getting closer and the brambles wilder the further into the forest I travelled. I was beginning to tire, but I pushed myself forwards, willing myself to carry on, to not give up.
The wind sliced into my skin, cutting like a butcher’s knife through raw meat, as I hurried onwards, making my way through the overgrown forest, pulling my coat around my shivering body to try and protect myself. The feeling that someone was following me gnawed at the edges of my mind as I travelled, and with every step my inner-conscience urged me to turn back but I couldn’t; this was a matter of life or death, and I had to push myself no matter how much it hurt. The remaining shards of my confidence were all too quickly stolen though, as out of the corner of my eye I saw something fly through the corbeau2 undergrowth. I froze, my heart beat fast; pounding erratically3 against my chest as I scanned the shadows for any sign of life, but I neither saw or heard a thing. A feeling of dread washed over my bones as I slowly looked up. I couldn’t hear any owls, or birds, not even wolves in the far off distance howling up to the flavescent4 moon; I was completely alone. Shivering slightly, I turned and hurried on, trying to shake off the ever-present feeling of being watched.
As the dimming umber sun sank further down towards its slumber, and the whey moon took its place, I forged on; the trees were getting closer and the brambles wilder the further into the forest I travelled. I was beginning to tire, but I pushed myself forwards, willing myself to carry on, to not give up.