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Tension

Thursday, 20 September 2012 @ 22:30 | 0 Comment [s]


I hit an all-time high, for I've gotten the most As in two years, that's only a "SO FAR"!
Although, I'm pretty sure the remaining results are the more pathetic ones that I did horribly in.
Either way, here's a (long over)due essay!
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"Hey, let's go into Grandfather's old room!" She piped up, her lips curled into a huge grin. Despite the glow of her smile, I shivered at the last three words that registered in my head - "Grandfather's old room". After all, it was there, in that very room, that he had left us.

  That night was a dark, stormy night; the thunder rumbled throughout the compound, sending shivers down our spine as it echoed within the plain, empty room. As I, on that night, trod on the hollow, wooden floorboards, the loud thuds rebounded across the room, as he drew his last, shaky breath.

  "Let's go!" She said, with an air of enthusiasm about her petite frame as she placed her tiny hand on the brass handle that shone against the darkness of the wooden door. As the door swung open slowly, an eerie creaking noise was heard. I placed my hand against the door, feeling the swirls and patterns carved into it. Against my skin, the carvings felt like angry, defiant scars left on the door by an emaciated, yet disturbed being.

  The room was quiet and unlit, and as we stepped in, a musty, old stench caught me - it reminded me of the smell of medication and blood, mixed with the foul stench of rotten eggs. As we walked, I kept my hand against the wall, trailing it behind me. As my hand slid across a cold, hard plastic button, I pressed gently, illuminating the area around us.

  The light was only a dim, unsaturated glow, and as it shone, the once-invisible table that the lamp was set on lit up along with it. The wooden table was a deep, dark brown, with randomized swirls within it. At the side were bottles and vials of dark murky liquid that resembled mud. My stomach curled up into a tight knot as she unplugged a bottle in curiosity. The stench was overwhelming, smelling of death and nothing else. Almost instantly, she capped the bottle and choked.

  My eyes, now watery, wandered across to the other side of the table, where there were deep, furious scratches on the wood. I allowed my fingers to trace the scratches, and the jagged edges sent a cold shiver through my body. The knot in my stomach tightened, and my mind was in a whirl.

  Across the room lay a bed - the very one which Grandfather passed away on. The bedsheets were a crumpled mess, and the blanket was tossed frantically to the corner, resembling a terrified child, curled up into a fetal position. Above the bed was a small window in which the moonlight shone through - the window was adorned with dark violet drapes that threatened to block out the moonlight once and for all. I shivered once more as my eyes flickered towards the bed, as the vision of Grandfather's shrunken, skeletal body appeared before me, lying on the bed as he breathed his last.

  She hurried across the room and tugged at the doors of the old wardrobe impatiently. As the doors gave way, my heart began to race - the resounding noise was inhuman, like a growl from the depths of a demon's throat. It was guttural and cruel.

  The white wooden frame of the wardrobe contrasted against the countless dark-colored shirts that Grandfather had, and it looked like the devil's mouth itself - pure and enticing on the exterior, yet dark and impenetrable in the interior. Soft, muffled cries seemed to echo from the depths as I remembered the child that had locked herself in there unknowingly. The cries were mine, and I recalled the terror within the wardrobe - how Grandfather's clothes smelled of rust and dirt, how the darkness around me consumed my entire being.

  Beside the wardrobe lay a pot - it gleamed as the light shone upon it. Across the rim were traces of brown, dried-up liquid that emitted a foul stench. I shivered once more, feeling a growing urge to throw up, and I tugged onto her hand, scurrying out of the room.

  "Do not -ever- bring me in there - again," I growled, my voice trembling slightly. "I hate being in there." She grinned at me, chortling, " Big sister's afraid of ghosts!"

  I sighed. "I never, ever want to be in Grandfather's room again," I mused as I felt goosebumps form on the back of my neck from the sheer thought of it.

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