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TEN.
SHE WAS running. Running from the glowing eyes that pursued her, running from the antagonistic creature that was hungry for her. Arabella Rose Flannery was running, because that was all she could do.
Its burning blonde fur and scalded skin cracked open wounds against the pressure of its large limbs, ignoring the blood now trickling down its torso. The beast's jaw began to salivate at the sight of the scared girl, opening wide and showcasing the yellow canines that inhabited its drooling mouth. Its fluorescent eyes illuminated the eerie darkness, shining a hue similar to the colour of the Ravenclaw's fiery hair.
As an attempt to escape, Bella spotted the Black Lake that lay silently in front of her, nothing but small ripples upon it. She glanced back for a mere second, inhaling a sharp gasp when she could hear the thundering footsteps of the running werewolf approaching.
She glanced back to the scene in front of her of the moon cascading upon the dark lake, took in a sharp breath, and jumped.
She began to swim helplessly in the lake, her feet becoming tangled with seaweed and her arms beginning to ache. She didn't bother to look back when she heard the frustrated howl of the creature, forcing a slight smile to know that she had escaped its hungry pursuit. That was until she felt something other than seaweed pulling at her feet. In fact, it began pulling her so hard that it forced her underwater.
It started at one of them; the disgusting octopus-like creatures attempting to trap her under the surface of the lake. It escalated within a matter of seconds, reaching to hundreds of them clawing at her feet.
She attempted to cry out in terror as she was dragged under, but only bubbles escaped. Her lungs filled with tight air, making each breath painfully hard against the pressure of the Grindylows atop the lack of oxygen.
Cuts began to litter her feet and ankles from the claws of the water creatures, filling the space around her with her own gushing blood. She was getting pulled deeper into the water by the second - a canopy of the horrific Grindylows covering her like a suffocating pillow.
She felt herself losing air; losing life. Falling into the black abyss of the lake where she knew she would drown - her body a mere limp and lifeless figure free of all colour that once accentuated her beautifully pale features. Now, her skin was not the kind of pale that signified the joyful winter snow and the bitingly cold weather, but a pale hue that was deathly, and ghostly.
