The Horror Story

horror story p-3

I struggled against the chains, but they were too strong. Mrs. Jenkins laughed, a cold, cruel sound.

"You shouldn't have come here," she said. "You shouldn't have meddled in things you don't understand."

I spat in her face, but she just wiped it away with a gloved hand.

"You'll learn to obey," she said. "You'll learn to love your new home."

And with that, she turned and left, leaving me in darkness.

Days passed, or at least I think they did. Time was hard to measure in the darkness. I was fed scraps of food, and given water, but I was never freed.

I heard footsteps above me, whispers and creaks, and I knew I wasn't alone. There were others down here, others like me.

And then, one day, I saw a light. A faint glow in the distance, growing brighter with each passing moment.

It was a torch, held by a figure in a hooded cloak. They approached me slowly, their face hidden in the shadows.

"Come," they said. "It's time to escape."

I hesitated, unsure if I could trust this stranger. But something in their voice told me to follow.

We crept through the cellar, avoiding the guards, and made our way to the forest.

As we emerged into the moonlight, I saw the figure's face. It was Mrs. Jenkins' daughter, Emily. She had been missing for years, presumed dead.

"Welcome to the resistance," she said. "We've been waiting for you."

(To be continued)