Practicing my horror

My daughter came home the other day telling me about her homework assignment.
She has to the write the opening paragraph of a horror story aided with a picture of her choice. In particular, she has to pay attention to detail, so I decided to have a go myself!

Never stop practising your skills!

The knife flashed beneath the bed. The metal frame was rusted at the joints, crimson filth clinging to the poles. Finding nothing to make contact with, the blade moved on undeterred to the curtains that encompassed the bed. Constructed to offer patients privacy, they now did little to shield me. The knife tore shreds in to the fabric, scattering printed confetti poppies to the concrete floor. Missed again. Yelling in fury, a clenched fist smashed the arc floor lamp that stood adjacent to the window. Paint peeled off the panes, blackened by years of mould no doubt. It crashed into the white operating trolley, sending gauze, scissors and syringes skittering across the floor. The naked bulb in the dank room began to waver and dim. Light had left us. Only predator and prey remained. The prey and I.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *