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Rated: E · Fiction · Other · #2145853
An excerpt from a story I may or may not write.
The door whined loudly as I pushed it open. The moonlight streaming in through the shattered windows barely did anything to the thick blackness that clogged the room. I stepped inside, sticks and leaves cracking under my boots.

“Hello?” My whisper bounced around the room, sending a chill down my spine. I took my flashlight out of my pocket and shone it around; beer bottles, syringes, and old cigarettes littered the ground, but otherwise it looked abandoned. I noticed a door at the end of the room and walked towards it. I pushed it open, cringing at the squeal its hinges made in protest.

My eyes were immediately drawn to an orange glow in the corner of the room; the light flowed from an oil lantern that sat next to a girl who looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her hair hung in thick messy waves that hid her shoulders and face. She stared at me through the jet black strands with eyes that seemed like murky pools of despair.

“Took you long enough.” She murmured as she stood up and held her hand out. I gingerly clasped my hand around hers and felt a painful sensation fly up my arm, spreading across my body. She dug her nails into my wrist as I tried to pull away; blood started to drip down my hand from the cuts she made. My vision blurred and my legs gave out from under me. Within moments my eyes slipped shut, leaving me in empty blackness.
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