One night in Auburn...
The night always seemed to make Frank feel unsettled about his home. There was no real reason to pin it down, but there was just something depressing in it, a feeling that made his soul feel hollow and callous. He was never a superstitious man of course, not by any stretch, but even he had to admit that the sudden, disturbing feeling of pure, vengeful hate would leave him vaguely unsettled.
Auburn was not a great place. It was a small, dumpy ghetto, full of delinquents, rotting buildings and unpleasantness. Ever since he had moved in a shabby, cramped old apartment building five years ago just because he had sunken that low, there was a general feeling of slow, but powerful evil growing in the darkened hearts of those who dared to live in such a hell.
Of course, this night was going to be an exception, for it was the day that the feeling came to a head. Frank had just finished relieving himself in his decaying toilet (he had tried his best to make it look as un-disgusting as possible and failed in that aspect,) when he distinctly heard childish giggling. Now, the only children that could possibly be in the building were those of the Hendersons next door, who were the only friends that a man like Frank could make in his five years of misery ('Friends' in the loosest sense of the word.)
He quickly scanned the room, finally deciding that his paranoia had caused him to imagine it. After all, he had been taking life quite hard, hadn't he? Didn't he almost accidentally fall off the roof last night, although he hadn't been quite sure how it happened as there seemed to be a gap between him opening the door of his room to suddenly finding himself hanging twenty feet above the ground?
He sat down on his bed and tried to harden his resolve. He was going to make his way out of this hellhole, after five years of wallowing in it, and he wasn't going to let hallucinations get in his way. He smiled to himself, when suddenly, the door was being attacked extremely violently, as if a rampaging bull had been trying to force its way in.
He ran up to the door at first, and then realized what a stupid thing it was, when the door suddenly swung opened and there stood little Amanda, looking blankly at him with a very deadly-looking axe about the size of Frank's torso in her hands. There was some scarlet splattered on its head, which he tried vaguely to figure out before he saw the bodies outside.
His heart suddenly seemed to stop completely, and the world swam around in front of him, as Amanda, sweet little Amanda skipped happily along with her bloody axe in her hands. He vaguely heard cold, soulless giggling in his very soul, before he blacked out.
(Are there any comments you'd like to make about it, or helpful criticism for me? This is pretty much the first time I've actually tried to write a story set in the F.E.A.R storyline, and I was going for a Stephen King approach, although it is quite half-assed in my opinion.)