He came to a stop. St Andrews Creek. He had an idea of what this neighborhood was like. The cold rain, droplets the size of rocks, began to soak his clothes. The ice cold water filled his socks and shoes. This particular area of town felt so empty, so hostile. The squelching of his shoes made him stand out in the gloominess of the night. Well not only that, his tall dark figure gave him an appearance of a sinister menace. The time was 11:30 pm. He was looking for number 13. He pulled out the address from his pocket just to see if he was in the right place because he felt the uncertainty and unease of his surroundings. The rain started to clear up. After a good amount of time passed he eventually found the house. This place looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. Vines raced across the discolored  brickwork. He stopped and stared at the house, just examining its qualities. His eyes slowly looked up. The windows were shut. But the panes were smashed. Suddenly a loud cry came from inside the mysterious dwelling. A pale face of a young girl, around the age of 8, was standing at the window. Staring. There was an awkward silence.Thoughts were racing through the mans head. He didn’t know what to do. He started slowly backing away still transfixed by the little girl. The door to the house gently opened with no rush. There was no one inside, just a dark black hallway. The man started stumbling towards the door. He could help it. It was as if a force was dragging him closer and closer. He couldn’t see anything. It was like he had been knocked out. It was pitch black.

News Report:

” A man found dead, in house 13, St Andrews Creek. Massive cuts and bruises all over. Police say the house was empty. They reckon his body had been there for 5 hours before he was found. Police haven’t been able to identify the man yet. They reckon late thirties early forties. His clothing were ripped into bits and pieces. A section from his right leg had been almost chopped off and now hanging on the last string of flesh.