So here I am.
I wasn't scared.
A white spider hung dead in its web.
I felt tiny tip taps on my foot.
I wasn't worried it was just my mind playing tricks on me.
The old wooden door rattled, it was just the wind,
or was it?
I tried to distract myself from the dark thoughts looming above me.
If I didn't the monsters might come back.
Just then I felt a tingle on my foot and the door rattled loudly.
I heard a squeak.
I didn't move.
Maybe it was just my shoe.
Old sheds could be creepy, like this one.
Anything could be creepy, you just have to make it creepy.
Like the fact that the little tingling could be a black widow or tarantula crawling across my foot.
Or the door rattling could be them.
My leg became itchy.
I jumped off the old green fridge.
My legs buckled beneath me, I quickly stood up again.
Pain shot through my leg.
I bent down and softly brushed my hand down the leg,
wincing every time I came across a bruise.
Eventually, my fingers felt some warm, liquid.
I wiped it off and licked the liquid off my hand.
A sort of warmth spread through me, like when you've just eaten chocolate.
Mmm, chocolate, I still remembered the taste of it, thick, warm, gooey, sticky.
The door rattled again, I tried to distract myself.
Thick, Warm, Gooey.
The last time I had had chocolate had been before the Asylum.
A shiver ran up my spine.
Images flew through my mind.
Were the words to describe that prison.
It drove you crazy.
Locked up in the same room for months, years.
A shiver trickled through my spine.
Was what I wrote.
And then I left.