When Delath Strikes.(#Wattys2015)

Delath claims its next victim

We stood there glaring at the crooked door in awe at what just happened.

We knocked the door quickly, but there was no answer. We tried to make our way in through the windows but they were rusted shut as the orange surrounded the old frames.

We made a run for it, belting through the dark and lonely streets. Footsteps echoing frequently behind us as we approached Stephanie's house.

We exchanged goodbyes as I ran through the streets, back to my dark and lonely home.

Waiting outside of my old crooked door was another brown parcel.

I picked it up quickly, and without wasting any time I stepped into my house to open it.

The floorboards creaked as I waddled over to my cold green armchair and sat down.

I ripped open the parcel and inside lay yet another photograph.  This time it was a family photo of Me, My mother, My father and My cousin. I looked closer into the shadows of the photo and there were dark shadowy figures looming tall behind each family member. Even me.

I threw the picture across the room and pulled my hair rapidly as I screamed and lowered myself slowly to the floor. I picked up the picture and crawled over to the cardboard box with all he other belongings, or should I say torture items, as i threw it in as if I were discarding it from my memory.

There was a slow knock at the door.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

I was too afraid to open the door as my heart pounded in my chest.

I waited.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

I crawled behind my armchair as if I were a child playing hide and seek. Except this wasn't a game.

I waited patiently as footsteps clopped further and further away from my door.

I waited for about 10 more minutes before edging my way to the door.

I creaked it open and there was a ripped piece of paper on the grey, cold, stone doorstep.  I picked it up wearily.

Written on the paper, in deep deep red, I read:

Stephanie.