(no subject)
The abandoned house sat decaying for several months before I stumbled across it; the stench of mildewed wood and the sound of scurrying rodents proved as much. I hoped my assassin would have trouble finding me there. Exhausted from running, I fell onto my bedroll, but chilling sounds overtook my ears. The floor creaked and the walls groaned. I cringed every time I heard what sounded like nails or claws tearing at the insides of the walls. The wind started to howl outside, and it hissed through the cracks in the house. Suddenly, thunder overpowered all the other noises, and lightening electrified the dark night. I kept a sharp eye as I watched the shadows flicker on the ceiling through the storm. A shadow appeared every few minutes, one too large to be a tree branch, and then it would disappear just as suddenly. My chest started to tighten as I trembled at the edge of sanity; I knew I desperately needed to calm myself down. I forced a few deep breaths as I fumbled for my sketchbook, though I realized pencil and paper could not quiet my mind on that night. As the time passed, I only became more paranoid.