7 STRIKES

It was so sudden, the only thing that could be heard was the clock ticking in the far corner of the wall. The swaying shadows formed from the crusty old curtain hanging just by a few threads from the Rusty rod made creepy and frightful silhouettes on the crumbling squeaky wooden floor. We were all sat in a circle, quietly waiting for the response from the little red head trying his hardest to sink into the floor and appear invisible. The oldest of us had asked the question, driving fear into each of us. It was visible that a shock had run up the youngest ones spine when as soon as the question was asked the old creaking windows rattled and the wind coming through the windows made a loud inhuman sound. Everyone who had vouched for coming here instantly regretted their decision. But no one was prepared for what happened next.