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Part of a story
Just a small part of a story that I wrote out a couple of weeks ago. It’s not good, never been good at writing stories (reports on the other hand, but where’s the fun in that).
Anyway He’s the first paragraph called “The night of the game”.
The small unbroken window tensed and relaxed in time with the wind as it blow in the evening as if breathing, the window was apart of a frame whose paint had long faded and started to crack, the walls decorated in a paper whose image was long forgotten and faded, the house was past its grand days and yet still had an air of magnificence. The entrance stands empty, the wooden floor unpolished and grey, covered in a thick layer of dust and fallen cobwebs, left to lose its lustre and shine, through the darkness, as if growing out of walls themselves, peers a grand staircase leading to cracked and broken full length windows. The setting sun filtering through the untendered trees and ferns added to the already unsettling feeling the aging building started to emit as the last of the sun’s rays peaked out from the horizon, the guest now carefully stepping around the cracked and broken parts of the floor leading her way through to the top of the stairs, peering at the slightest movement in the corners of her eyes while straining through the creeping darkness. She arrived to this location for one thing that night, which was to play a game…
Like I said not the greatest thing that has ever been written but for me its not too bad :P Tweet me with suggestions and input if you’d like. If I get enough interest I might continue on with it :)
