The Shadow
A dark figure crept behind an old oak tree. His shadow followed him, as he approached a young girl from behind. He raised his bloody dagger as the young girl shrieked. Her beautifully pulled back hair greeted blood as her throat had been slit. Her dead body lay there, stiff as a board. The figure stood, as if he was an artist admiring his finished work. He quickly turned away, as he saw someone coming. He ran deep into the forest, not to far away. For he had been hiding there for years. He was one of the most wanted serial murderers in the United States. They called him "The Shadow."
A high-school student silently walked the halls of her school. She had gotten out of detention. She heard a loud crash and her crimson red eyes darted back and forth. "Acira," a voice whispered from behind her. She quickly turned around, to see nothing. She had felt like she was being watched, all day. "Acira," it whispered again. "Whoever you are, stop it!" She heard giggling coming from the janitor's closest. It was just a group of jocks and preps picking on her, the innocent goth.
"Whoever you are, you better stop it! I thought you were going to cry," a girl mocked. "Shut up, or I'll make you cry," a voice called out, as Acira's friend, Jordan, appeared. Acira smiled sweetly. He was always looking out for her. "Let's get out' a here," one of the boys said, nodding at Jordan, as if he were scared. All four of them left. "Shouldn't you be home," Jordan asked concerningly."I had detention. Apparently, those jerks knew," she answered glaring at the janitor's closet. "My father's picking me up. Do you need a ride," Jordan asked. "I'll just walk," Acira answered.
Acira started to walk home. She suddenly stopped. She had thought she heard footsteps coming from behind her. "To many horror movies, Acira," she told herself. She nodded her head and let out a slight chuckle. She approached the ramshackle home and opened the door lock with a bobby pin that had been pulled out of her hair. She opened the door and saw her father, beating her mother. "I had detention," she quickly muttered, running to her room. "What'd you do this time, you big screw-up," her father asked crudely. "It's nothing. A teacher blew up in my face so I told her to get the hell away from me," Acira answered fearfully. "Well I don't like my child doing things like that," her father yelled, as her slapped her across the face. "Yes, Sir."
A dark figure crept behind an old oak tree. His shadow followed him, as he approached a young girl from behind. He raised his bloody dagger as the young girl shrieked. Her beautifully pulled back hair greeted blood as her throat had been slit. Her dead body lay there, stiff as a board. The figure stood, as if he was an artist admiring his finished work. He quickly turned away, as he saw someone coming. He ran deep into the forest, not to far away. For he had been hiding there for years. He was one of the most wanted serial murderers in the United States. They called him "The Shadow."
A high-school student silently walked the halls of her school. She had gotten out of detention. She heard a loud crash and her crimson red eyes darted back and forth. "Acira," a voice whispered from behind her. She quickly turned around, to see nothing. She had felt like she was being watched, all day. "Acira," it whispered again. "Whoever you are, stop it!" She heard giggling coming from the janitor's closest. It was just a group of jocks and preps picking on her, the innocent goth.
"Whoever you are, you better stop it! I thought you were going to cry," a girl mocked. "Shut up, or I'll make you cry," a voice called out, as Acira's friend, Jordan, appeared. Acira smiled sweetly. He was always looking out for her. "Let's get out' a here," one of the boys said, nodding at Jordan, as if he were scared. All four of them left. "Shouldn't you be home," Jordan asked concerningly."I had detention. Apparently, those jerks knew," she answered glaring at the janitor's closet. "My father's picking me up. Do you need a ride," Jordan asked. "I'll just walk," Acira answered.
Acira started to walk home. She suddenly stopped. She had thought she heard footsteps coming from behind her. "To many horror movies, Acira," she told herself. She nodded her head and let out a slight chuckle. She approached the ramshackle home and opened the door lock with a bobby pin that had been pulled out of her hair. She opened the door and saw her father, beating her mother. "I had detention," she quickly muttered, running to her room. "What'd you do this time, you big screw-up," her father asked crudely. "It's nothing. A teacher blew up in my face so I told her to get the hell away from me," Acira answered fearfully. "Well I don't like my child doing things like that," her father yelled, as her slapped her across the face. "Yes, Sir."