Prose Writing
It was unsettling to arrive home and find the front door wide open, hanging on its hinges,
with a large, gaping hole through the centre pane of glass. At first, I did not know what to
do, how to feel, but a sense of fear suddenly hit me. Nobody just broke into a house without
a reason. Yet as I crept over my doormat, trying not to step on the broken glass, I peered
into the hall. Papers lay on the floor, strewn across like the leftover confetti from a wedding.
It was evident that whoever had broken in was looking for something, but what could it be?
I could feel my knees trembling as I crawled up the stairs. BANG! I jumped out of my skin as
what sounded like a gunshot pierced the silence. I froze, not daring to move in case the next
bullet was for me. However, I knew I had to do something, as the man was still upstairs,
stomping around searching for his treasure, whatever it may be. Yet as I continued up the
stairs, I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end, while butterflies began fluttering deep in my
stomach. More crashing, the breaking of glass, something shattering, then silence once
more. As I reached the top of the stairs, I peered over the top step, only to see a shadow
dash across the upstairs landing and disappear into my brother’s bedroom.
Even more puzzled, yet still alarmed, I crept towards my brother’s room, eager yet also
timid to find out who had caused such damage to my home. The bedroom door was ajar, ad
as I opened it, it creaked. A sense of eeriness came over me and suddenly all went cold. A
chill ran down my spine as I gazed round my door. The light at dusk made it almost
impossible to make much out, yet I could just see a small, human-like shadow under my
bed. Ambling over, I took my time to prepare myself for whatever was there. I silently
inched towards the shadow, avoiding the Lego bricks and toy cars scattered across the floor.
At that moment, I slipped, and my toe hit a police car; the sirens blasted out. The shadow
twitched and I could feel the intent gaze of it bearing down on me.
Another chill ran down my spine, except this time it remained, lodged at the bottom of my
back, lingering. A frost seemed to suddenly appear on the windows while the sun seemed to
have disappeared in the minute I had been in the room. I heard more scrambling, and then
all of a sudden, a tall, grey figure slid out from under the bed. I should have been terrified,
but the moment was rather ruined by the ghostly figure’s adornments – my brother’s
Arsenal duvet and baby blue dressing gown. The figure whispered a ‘BOO’, yet I remained
motionless, still. Then it dawned on me: I was standing in my house, confronted by a
ghoulish presence. Why was I not screaming? Yet as he brushed off the stolen, baby blue
night robe, the scream finally rose up and out of my throat. What seemed like ten minutes
later, the silence resumed. My throat was now hoarse, and I could now feel myself
whimpering, panting, gasping for some part of reality to hold on to.
While having initially cared for the safety of my possessions, I instead bolted out of the
room and down the stairs. I re-entered the hall and stopped. There, I stopped to catch a
needed breath. I bent down, as I could feel my heart burning, but as I rose up, I stopped. A
hand reached over my shoulder, cradling it in its bony jaws. I turned around and was
confronted by a cold, dark face and a smell I could only associate with the rotting of a dead
body. My eyes widened, but before I could scream my throat sore again, I was engulfed by
the deep, dark hole of a mouth of the foul-smelling figure in front of me.
