(Kyle)
The night is chilly. Fall is already here. I can almost see the snowflakes crumpling as they touch earth from the clouds above. My steps are hasty and I’m deliberate in my effort to keep quick –the longer I take to get to the corner house –the abandoned one with the dilapidated front door and roof- the less likely I’ll be to make it by nine o’clock sharp. I step in a puddle of water, treading on with a grimace.
Don’t stop walking. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
My boots are wet and traces of hurried footsteps trail behind me. I know that nobody is following me but the feeling of being watched remains. I know I am being watched.
I make it to the corner house. It’s quiet. I hear the sounds of crickets in the grass of the overgrown lawn. Crispy sounds could be heard as I step th
