Don't Go In And Other Short Stories

Don't Go In

A/N: Hi! The attached video is the short film that this writing is based on. This first chapter of the book is the short story I wrote in school a while ago. The second chapter is a rewrite of sorts, as I then had to study the video in a different school. I thought I'd put them both in here, as it might be interesting to see how (if at all! ) my writing style has changed. (Warning: for some, the video will be creepy!) Let me know what you think of the video in the comments. Thanks for reading!

orcapod

I don't want to hear it again: the creak of rusty hinges as the door swings open. But I will. Another one for collection is outside, near, too near. The door swings wide and yet another little girl appears over the threshold...

Don't come in...

Even now, I feel ashamed at my arrogance. I wandered into this death trap, happily unaware of the danger I had put myself in, just as this girl is now. We have the possibility of a long life ahead of us, but we see something we want and we throw it all away.

We as good as end our own life.

I want to scream, to kick, to yell at this girl to leave, to live a long and happy life. But it won't work.

It will never work.

She has signed her own death warrant and no amount of crossing out will change that. She had a life to live... but not any more.

Passing through the fading light from the shop window, she walks towards her death, her feet throwing up clouds of dust from the grimy floor. Each time she nears the killer that is her doll, it jumps away again, luring her deeper and deeper into this mess. Give up! Go! But even as I think it, I know she won't. I brace myself to see yet another innocent child give away their freedom with just one touch.

However many times I witness it, it doesn't make it any easier to bear. Her eyes have clouded over - I can tell that she is imagining all the things she will do with her doll, her new best friend, when she gets it to her house. If only. She begins to climb up the shelves towards it. Please... go. Through the darkness of the shop, I see the desperation in the other onlookers' eyes as we try and try to warn her, to stop her. But she has eyes only for the doll - the doll that looks just like her.

She reaches the top shelf, fingers tantalizingly close to her doom. I can only watch as she recedes into the same pointless half-existence as the rest of us. Whatever she was before, she will never be again.

I don't want to hear it again: the creak of rusty hinges as the door swings open. But I will. Another one for collection is outside, near, too near. A young boy walks down the street...

Don't come in.