This book is basically just a load of writing practices I did that I decided to publish pfft.
Also this one is set in Australia, which is why it's winter in July.
The brittle July winds gushed against my pale skin, sending waves of shivers down my spine as I strolled through the woods. The air had a spooky feel to it, as if something paranormal was just waiting to happen; it just needed the correct moment. The echoing hoot of an owl, or maybe the wispy chills the wind sent against my neck. Any small detail about the looming woods I walked through were enough to spook anyone to no end.
They always gave me a bad feeling.
Not that I cared. They were just feelings, anyway. That small flutter inside that warns you: 'something bad will come out of this.' It wasn't real. It was just a feeling.
I had convinced myself long ago that those feelings weren't real. Nothing ever happened. Nothing ever will happen. Lies. That's what they were. Just a bunch of lies. I'm not scared.
The leaves underneath my feet crackled and crunched with the force of my steps.
"Eliza!" Came the all too familiar call of my father. "Don't be too long!"
"Join me, the winds might clear out your anxiety!" I joked back.
There was no response, only the distant shout of irritation.
My feet led me in the same direction I always went — the lake. Its beautiful waters sparkled at nighttime, and the moon reflected against the clear surface elegantly. Tonight, specifically, was a full moon, making the lake's shimmer even more stunning.
-
"Shoot, four percent" I cursed down at my phone. The stupid thing's battery grows low too fast. The same thought I had every time I forgot to charge it.
The seemingly never ending woods had grown somewhat darker since I had begun my walk, and it gave me that same bad feeling. Only this time, it was stronger, as if desperately urging me to get home.
This is what led to me checking my phone. Several times, actually. Probably why the battery was so low. I'm getting paranoid. Stop.
I had to remind myself that those stupid ghost stories weren't true. The rumours of these 'evil woods' were all just hoaxes. Stories made up to scare us.
But something told me that this was not the case. That the gut feeling telling me that something bad was going to happen was real. But I ignored those mental warnings, of course.
The wind continued to course through the tall trees as I trudged forward, down the windy path, dodging the old fallen log, jumping over the twisted and old metal fence, toward the beautiful lake.
The breeze began to make a whistling sound as it rushed through the forest, and I could feel the goosebumps rising on my skin. Whether from uneasiness or the cold, I wasn't sure anymore.
The trees became thicker as I walked onwards, the crackle of the leaves suddenly seeming to echo off of every surface around me. My breath became unsteady, rising shakily and falling with caution.
The edges of my vision shook with darkness, but I shrugged it off, assuming it to be my exhaustion. This is what happens when you stay up until one in the morning, Elizabeth. I scolded myself for the previous, nearly sleepless night.
A rush of fear poured into my body, insides fluttering and head spinning.
Nothing is going to happen, Eliza. They're just feelings.
As I walked on, I realised I had passed the lake. I was on a completely different track. Luckily, I'd been down it before. Only once. I got lost that time, and would've had to spend the night there if my dad hadn't found me. That's when I promised myself that I'd never get lost again.
I learned the way back from where this path led, so there was no problem in keeping on going.
Just feelings. Just lies. Rumours.
I don't know why I kept reminding myself that. I wasn't scared. I wasn't afraid.
None of it was real.
A shriek suddenly erupted from my mouth. I didn't know why, but it happened so quickly that I didn't have time to ponder on the reason.
My feet crumpled beneath me and I lay on my back, shaking, choking, and screaming.
I don't know why I screamed. Why I called for help.
Maybe it was the spooky aura coursing around me.
Maybe it was the powerful, gushing wind.
Maybe it was the silence that settled across the forest when the wind ceased.
Maybe it was the second pair of footsteps pattering on behind me.
Maybe it was the cold hand that came to my neck in a rush.
Maybe it was the sharp fingernails digging into my throat.
But it couldn't be.
I couldn't be dying.
Not in this way.
Because all these scary things were just feelings.
Just stories to startle us.
Just hoaxes to get the word around.
Just lies, rumours to get those feelings going.
Just feelings.
...right?
