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Here is a short story a just thought up. I don't think its that bad, but tell me what you think of it.
Enjoy :)
Jon woke up. He rubbed his tired eyes, and took a look at his digital clock on the bedside table. It was 6.02am. In the distance, he could hear a car.
Jon lived deep in the English countryside, with his nearest neighbours miles away, so a car engine was an unusual sound. For some reason, the sound of this one frightened him a little.
It was in distance, and he could hear it begin to get closer. It stayed the same volume constantly, a low, deep growl. Closer it came, and closer. Every second it was getting closer.
Jon broke out in a cold sweat. He was genuinely scared now. The car was near the end of his lane. His very long lane. It slowed, almost coming to a stop. At the end of Jon’s lane was a grid, which was designed to keep out livestock, such as cows. It rattled as the car moved over it.
Jon gasped. It was here! The car was here! It was coming up his lane. Slowly, but surely. Soon it would be here. And he could do nothing to stop its progress.
“Go away!” Yelled Jon. “Leave me alone!!” “Please!” his cry turned into a strangled sob.
The car was at the top of the lane now. It came to a halt in the yard. The driver cut the engine.
Silence.
But not for long. The car door opened, and then closed. Jon strained his ears. The gravel in the yard crunched as the Driver of the car walked over it.
He came to the front door. Jon began to sweat horribly, and the bedclothes became sticky. He heard the door handle go down, and the only to familiar squeak as it opened. The door wasn’t locked ! Why hadn’t he locked the door? What was going on?
Footsteps. In the hall. Slow, steady, purposeful footsteps. They were coming towards the stairs. They stopped. At the stairs.
Jon gave a muffled cry of horror, as the steps began to advance up the stairs. One at a time. Slowly.
There were 16 stairs on Jon’s staircase. He counted as the Driver came up each one. At the 8th step Jon was genuinely terrified. He could hear his heart beat, like a drum. By the 11th step Jon nearly choked on his terror. He felt like his heart was in his mouth.
Step 16. Jon wanted to hide. He couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot in fear. His door was at the top of the stairs, immediately to the right. It was hear the foot steps stopped.
The handle on Jon’s door knob turned. He could see it the gloom, slowly twisting. It came to a stop.
Slowly the door began to creak open. Inch by inch. Jon could do nothing, so he drew his bedclothes about him.
Finally the door opened enough to let Jon see what was outside it. He gave a shriek of terror and -
Jon sat bolt upright in bed. He was drenched in his own sweat. He rubbed his tired eyes, and took a look at his digital clock on the bedside table. It was 6.02am. In the distance, he could hear a car.
Enjoy :)
Jon woke up. He rubbed his tired eyes, and took a look at his digital clock on the bedside table. It was 6.02am. In the distance, he could hear a car.
Jon lived deep in the English countryside, with his nearest neighbours miles away, so a car engine was an unusual sound. For some reason, the sound of this one frightened him a little.
It was in distance, and he could hear it begin to get closer. It stayed the same volume constantly, a low, deep growl. Closer it came, and closer. Every second it was getting closer.
Jon broke out in a cold sweat. He was genuinely scared now. The car was near the end of his lane. His very long lane. It slowed, almost coming to a stop. At the end of Jon’s lane was a grid, which was designed to keep out livestock, such as cows. It rattled as the car moved over it.
Jon gasped. It was here! The car was here! It was coming up his lane. Slowly, but surely. Soon it would be here. And he could do nothing to stop its progress.
“Go away!” Yelled Jon. “Leave me alone!!” “Please!” his cry turned into a strangled sob.
The car was at the top of the lane now. It came to a halt in the yard. The driver cut the engine.
Silence.
But not for long. The car door opened, and then closed. Jon strained his ears. The gravel in the yard crunched as the Driver of the car walked over it.
He came to the front door. Jon began to sweat horribly, and the bedclothes became sticky. He heard the door handle go down, and the only to familiar squeak as it opened. The door wasn’t locked ! Why hadn’t he locked the door? What was going on?
Footsteps. In the hall. Slow, steady, purposeful footsteps. They were coming towards the stairs. They stopped. At the stairs.
Jon gave a muffled cry of horror, as the steps began to advance up the stairs. One at a time. Slowly.
There were 16 stairs on Jon’s staircase. He counted as the Driver came up each one. At the 8th step Jon was genuinely terrified. He could hear his heart beat, like a drum. By the 11th step Jon nearly choked on his terror. He felt like his heart was in his mouth.
Step 16. Jon wanted to hide. He couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot in fear. His door was at the top of the stairs, immediately to the right. It was hear the foot steps stopped.
The handle on Jon’s door knob turned. He could see it the gloom, slowly twisting. It came to a stop.
Slowly the door began to creak open. Inch by inch. Jon could do nothing, so he drew his bedclothes about him.
Finally the door opened enough to let Jon see what was outside it. He gave a shriek of terror and -
Jon sat bolt upright in bed. He was drenched in his own sweat. He rubbed his tired eyes, and took a look at his digital clock on the bedside table. It was 6.02am. In the distance, he could hear a car.
Nice one dude.
That was good. Nice ending.
Here is a short story a just thought up. I don't think its that bad, but tell me what you think of it.
Enjoy :)
Jon woke up. He rubbed his tired eyes, and took a look at his digital clock on the bedside table. It was 6.02am. In the distance, he could hear a car.
Jon lived deep in the English countryside, with his nearest neighbours miles away, so a car engine was an unusual sound. For some reason, the sound of this one frightened him a little.
It was in distance, and he could hear it begin to get closer. It stayed the same volume constantly, a low, deep growl. Closer it came, and closer. Every second it was getting closer.
Jon broke out in a cold sweat. He was genuinely scared now. The car was near the end of his lane. His very long lane. It slowed, almost coming to a stop. At the end of Jon’s lane was a grid, which was designed to keep out livestock, such as cows. It rattled as the car moved over it.
Jon gasped. It was here! The car was here! It was coming up his lane. Slowly, but surely. Soon it would be here. And he could do nothing to stop its progress.
“Go away!” Yelled Jon. “Leave me alone!!” “Please!” his cry turned into a strangled sob.
The car was at the top of the lane now. It came to a halt in the yard. The driver cut the engine.
Silence.
But not for long. The car door opened, and then closed. Jon strained his ears. The gravel in the yard crunched as the Driver of the car walked over it.
He came to the front door. Jon began to sweat horribly, and the bedclothes became sticky. He heard the door handle go down, and the only to familiar squeak as it opened. The door wasn’t locked ! Why hadn’t he locked the door? What was going on?
Footsteps. In the hall. Slow, steady, purposeful footsteps. They were coming towards the stairs. They stopped. At the stairs.
Jon gave a muffled cry of horror, as the steps began to advance up the stairs. One at a time. Slowly.
There were 16 stairs on Jon’s staircase. He counted as the Driver came up each one. At the 8th step Jon was genuinely terrified. He could hear his heart beat, like a drum. By the 11th step Jon nearly choked on his terror. He felt like his heart was in his mouth.
Step 16. Jon wanted to hide. He couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot in fear. His door was at the top of the stairs, immediately to the right. It was hear the foot steps stopped.
The handle on Jon’s door knob turned. He could see it the gloom, slowly twisting. It came to a stop.
Slowly the door began to creak open. Inch by inch. Jon could do nothing, so he drew his bedclothes about him.
Finally the door opened enough to let Jon see what was outside it. He gave a shriek of terror and -
Jon sat bolt upright in bed. He was drenched in his own sweat. He rubbed his tired eyes, and took a look at his digital clock on the bedside table. It was 6.02am. In the distance, he could hear a car.
Enjoy :)
Jon woke up. He rubbed his tired eyes, and took a look at his digital clock on the bedside table. It was 6.02am. In the distance, he could hear a car.
Jon lived deep in the English countryside, with his nearest neighbours miles away, so a car engine was an unusual sound. For some reason, the sound of this one frightened him a little.
It was in distance, and he could hear it begin to get closer. It stayed the same volume constantly, a low, deep growl. Closer it came, and closer. Every second it was getting closer.
Jon broke out in a cold sweat. He was genuinely scared now. The car was near the end of his lane. His very long lane. It slowed, almost coming to a stop. At the end of Jon’s lane was a grid, which was designed to keep out livestock, such as cows. It rattled as the car moved over it.
Jon gasped. It was here! The car was here! It was coming up his lane. Slowly, but surely. Soon it would be here. And he could do nothing to stop its progress.
“Go away!” Yelled Jon. “Leave me alone!!” “Please!” his cry turned into a strangled sob.
The car was at the top of the lane now. It came to a halt in the yard. The driver cut the engine.
Silence.
But not for long. The car door opened, and then closed. Jon strained his ears. The gravel in the yard crunched as the Driver of the car walked over it.
He came to the front door. Jon began to sweat horribly, and the bedclothes became sticky. He heard the door handle go down, and the only to familiar squeak as it opened. The door wasn’t locked ! Why hadn’t he locked the door? What was going on?
Footsteps. In the hall. Slow, steady, purposeful footsteps. They were coming towards the stairs. They stopped. At the stairs.
Jon gave a muffled cry of horror, as the steps began to advance up the stairs. One at a time. Slowly.
There were 16 stairs on Jon’s staircase. He counted as the Driver came up each one. At the 8th step Jon was genuinely terrified. He could hear his heart beat, like a drum. By the 11th step Jon nearly choked on his terror. He felt like his heart was in his mouth.
Step 16. Jon wanted to hide. He couldn’t. He was rooted to the spot in fear. His door was at the top of the stairs, immediately to the right. It was hear the foot steps stopped.
The handle on Jon’s door knob turned. He could see it the gloom, slowly twisting. It came to a stop.
Slowly the door began to creak open. Inch by inch. Jon could do nothing, so he drew his bedclothes about him.
Finally the door opened enough to let Jon see what was outside it. He gave a shriek of terror and -
Jon sat bolt upright in bed. He was drenched in his own sweat. He rubbed his tired eyes, and took a look at his digital clock on the bedside table. It was 6.02am. In the distance, he could hear a car.