The Black
I am walking through the dark tunnel below the old, supposedly haunted house. My God,
is it ever nerve wracking. The pungent smell of must permeates my nasal cavity. I can't
see anything due to the blackness, the evil, piercing black. Even my own hand, only an
inch or so from my face, is unseen, shrouded in darkness.
I begin hearing a strange rustling sound behind me. I shrug it off. Again I hear it,
this time followed by whispers, sounds of talking, and even laughter.
"It's only my imagination," I say. Slowly the sounds become louder, and I turn just
in time to see the blood red eyes staring at me through the black.
Copyright © Neill Bird | Year Posted 2008
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