Wind was screeching throughout the long empty corridors of the abandoned hospital. The force battering against the doors of the empty emergency rooms and whistling through whatever cracks and holes in the walls that it could find.
An unamed child sat curled in a ball in one of the "more intact" rooms, and was shivering due to the minus twenty degrees celcius temperature of Canadian winters. Her thin windbreaker doing almost nothing to block the icy chill or the freezing wind, and her cheap wool hat completly frozen to her head.
The wind made an especially loud howl and the child flinched, she had been a city girl before she had run away, and had grown up cultivating an overactive imagination with books of fairytales and monsters for about nine years.
With beautiful princess, dashing princes and evil, horrible monsters spread across the pages she had a very wide knowledge of the creepsters that ruled the night. So at that wind's howl her overactive mind was filled with thoughts of ghosts and mis-shapen monsters, clawing at doors, floating through walls, and digging through the concrete trying to get at her, to tear her apart, to make her one of them, to-
The thought was cut off by the sound of footsteps, real, human like footsteps. The sound just slightly louder than the howling winter wind's and thunking loudly as they got closer and closer.
The footsteps began to approach the door of the room she was curled up in and she hesitantly pushed herself into a standing postition.
This gave the wind a larger target to attack and she was battered by the harsh climate forces. The push became so strong that she ended up stumbling and somehow falling out the broken window across the room. The window furthest away from the door.
No! She needed that person. The girl thought. This was the part of the story when someone would come to save her. Where she would be rescued from her horrible mistake of running away.
The child fought the wind struggling to stop her fall, she flung her head right and left, time moving slowly as she searched for sometbing to grab onto ........and screamed in horror.
But it was not because of the wind flying past her head, and that she hadn't stopped falling, or just the plain fact that she had fallen out of the fifth story of a building. Or even that she had somehow tripped around ten metres across the rotting room and still fallen through the broken window.
No, it was because she had seen the hand of the thing that she had thought was a human. The thing she had almost moved towards, thinking it another human who might help her.
The thing that looked like it had walked straight out of a horror book.
The hand was pitch black and the skin was gnarled and wrinkled. Like an old tree skin that had been burned to a crisp and then preserved a couple seconds after. And the arm that followed after it was just the same.
Black, shriveled and seemingly burnt, it stretched towards the window as if it could sense her presence, the arm extending to unimaginable lengths. The whole time never revealing the body of the creature.
