From John's stance on the slippery cobblestone walkway, he could just make out a young girl peeking out of the highest window of the ghost castle. Right when he took a step forward, a figure obscured by the shadows clamped a pale looking hand around the young girl's mouth. Immediately, John reached into his pocket to phone Sherlock. When he did, a bloodied spear was protruding from the girl's torso. Blood rushed from her mouth, as she collapsed. The next instant, the shadow man had vanished just like that. John stood on the wet cobblestone path in complete, utter shock, and many unanswered questions.
Quietly, I climbed down the rope ladder and sat with my back against the tree trunk. It was cold tonight, but I didn't care. Sighing, I pulled out my pocket knife and started blindly twirling it around. Within minuets I had a new set of cuts on my finger tips, and small droplets of blood had covered the blade. The pricks of pain felt good, but I knew it was a bad idea to continue this. Still, I kept twirling the small knife in my hands, every now and then switching to my other hand. Life was so confusing now, it wasn't even funny.