Our senior writers were asked to set the scene for a horror story......
Unseen was the cottage
shrouded by the intertwining branches of the twisted trees that surrounded it.
The only colour that could be seen was a sickly green from the ivy that
infested the walls. The windows seemed to silently observe those who dare come
close, with the door semi-open, as if ever waiting for victims. An unsettingly
pleasant smell emanated from it, like some form of perverse oxymoron. Darkness
engulfed the inside. Silence prevailed through its long, rambling corridors.
Brand new floorboards covered the bricks, as if hastily put to conceal
something. Sometimes, one felt the eyes of another silently observing. (AL)
-------------------------------------------------------------
The cottage hid itself
in the gloom as the trees shrouded it from view. Ivy creeped over and through
the cracks in the wall, disguising its appearance. The pale windows followed
from a distance, like piercing eyes, watching and waiting. A strange scent of
woodsmoke lingered in the air. (JL)
-------------------------------------------------------------
Dark, leafy trees
obscured the cottage, making it impossible to notice from the path. Strands of
ivy choked crumbling stone walls with vigour, rendering its original colour
unidentifiable. The house almost seemed sentient as the windows gazed at you
with open hostility, while the doors were always opened in a leering smile.
The smell of woodsmoke
and apples contradicted the cramped and claustrophobic conditions within the
cottage, tiny squares of light the only source of illumination during the day. With the exception of the crisp crackle of
logs on the fire, or dying gasp of breeze in the chimney, it was deafeningly
silent, deathly, even.
In a couple of rooms,
new wooden floorboards had been laid for warmth, which had shrunk as they dried;
and occasionally, your spine would tingle – it felt as if another presence had
stepped where you were, bending it oh-ever-so slightly. (YRW)
-------------------------------------------------------------
The dark-lit cottage
stood hidden from the rocky road, with leafless trees covering it. Ivy grasped
the edge of the bone walls tightly, avoiding the walls of thorns. The gloomy
windows shut tightly, while the door of fear was slowly opened.
Inside, the little dark
house was covered with photos that were framed and hung. It smelt of woodsmoke
and old dusty books and, when you crept in, little squares of moonlight fell
through its dusty windows. It offered the old tick-tock sound, or sigh of wind
in the gloomy chimney. (JC)
-------------------------------------------------------------
The cottage squatted
behind the thick vegetation, hidden from the empty road. Vines consumed the
cold stone wall, blinding it. The haunted windows stared blankly at any naïve
enough to approach, while the door was curved in a sickening smile.
The once cozy house
smelt of ash and the strange scent of fruit. Dim rays of light stumbled from
the windows to the newly laid ground. All was silent aside from the menacing
crackle of logs in the engulfing fire and the hollow moan of the wind in the
chimney.
The floorboards creaked
as they dried. You’d sometimes feel the presence of another standing on the
same board you’re on, bending it ever so slightly. (LZR)
-------------------------------------------------------------
The cottage stood away from the road, hidden secretively by the surrounding trees. Ivy climbed the walls, making the colour of the original stonework look sickly black and green. The windows glared coldly out to those who approached, while fear crept into the heart as the door opened with a lonely, creaking sound.
The abandoned house was cold and silent...When you walked in, only the clacking echo of your shoes came back to you. Sunlight came only from the corner of the dusty, tiny windows. It offered no feeling until the fire crackled and the wheezy gust of wind dropped down the chimney with a low thump. (EL - aged only 11!)
