Sneak downstairs
From Create Your Own Story
(Created page with 'Spitting resolutely, you open the cabinet above the sink and replace your toothbrush neatly in the porcelain cup. You step off the stool, open the door and tread carefully back iā¦') |
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| - | Spitting resolutely, you open the cabinet above the sink and replace your toothbrush neatly in the porcelain cup. You step off the stool, open the door and tread carefully back into your dimly-lit bedroom. Closing the door slowly behind you, you head towards the dresser which stands facing your tiny cot of a bed. Once you are dressed, you begin taking your first steps down the stairs, as you listen intently for any signs of your father. He's still in his bedroom, but you don't know how long you have until he leaves it. You descend into what seems to be a large stone hallway, illuminated by candlelight. There are metal doors installed in the walls every 5 steps, and you hear the sound of heavy, ragged breathing, screams of pain, and cries of terror from every direction. You look behind you and a chill runs down your spine at the realization that the staircase has been replaced by yet another door. You look up at the iron bars and a pair of cool, yet hollow blue eyes look back. With a simple head gesture, he beckons to you. You feel an urge to approach him, but you realize you would like nothing more than to find an exit. The air is stuffy, and the sounds of torture are beginning to get to you. | + | Spitting resolutely, you open the cabinet above the sink and replace your toothbrush neatly in the porcelain cup. You step off the stool, open the door and tread carefully back into your dimly-lit bedroom. Closing the door slowly behind you, you head towards the dresser which stands facing your tiny cot of a bed. Once you are dressed, you begin taking your first steps down the stairs, as you listen intently for any signs of your father. He's still in his bedroom, but you don't know how long you have until he leaves it. Your pulse begins to race, clinging desperately to the hope that he doesn't hear your footsteps. You descend into what seems to be a large stone hallway, illuminated by candlelight. There are metal doors installed in the walls every 5 steps, and you hear the sound of heavy, ragged breathing, screams of pain, and cries of terror from every direction. You look behind you and a chill runs down your spine at the realization that the staircase has been replaced by yet another door. You look up at the iron bars and a pair of cool, yet hollow blue eyes look back. With a simple head gesture, he beckons to you. You feel an urge to approach him, but you realize you would like nothing more than to find an exit. The air is stuffy, and the sounds of torture are beginning to get to you. |
*[[Approach him]] | *[[Approach him]] | ||
Revision as of 21:06, 9 February 2016
Spitting resolutely, you open the cabinet above the sink and replace your toothbrush neatly in the porcelain cup. You step off the stool, open the door and tread carefully back into your dimly-lit bedroom. Closing the door slowly behind you, you head towards the dresser which stands facing your tiny cot of a bed. Once you are dressed, you begin taking your first steps down the stairs, as you listen intently for any signs of your father. He's still in his bedroom, but you don't know how long you have until he leaves it. Your pulse begins to race, clinging desperately to the hope that he doesn't hear your footsteps. You descend into what seems to be a large stone hallway, illuminated by candlelight. There are metal doors installed in the walls every 5 steps, and you hear the sound of heavy, ragged breathing, screams of pain, and cries of terror from every direction. You look behind you and a chill runs down your spine at the realization that the staircase has been replaced by yet another door. You look up at the iron bars and a pair of cool, yet hollow blue eyes look back. With a simple head gesture, he beckons to you. You feel an urge to approach him, but you realize you would like nothing more than to find an exit. The air is stuffy, and the sounds of torture are beginning to get to you.
