Amber doesn't believe in horror, or murderers. Never has. Just sharp, cold reality. But then something came, something more terrifying than she could have ever imagined. The only thing she can do is run.
(Written by IceCreamGirl, edited by Y.Nirvana)


2. Chapter 1

I sat up sharply, breathing hard. That was some fucked-up dream. I could still hear the man's scream echoing in my head, feel the inky blackness all around, see him fall to the ground. And the creature, the creature that killed him. I'm sure I'd seen it's face, but I'd forgotten it now.

I shook my head, trying to shake away the thoughts. Nightmares are for babies.

I tugged back my duvet,  heaving my aching body out of bed. I pulled on my uniform, making sure the tie hung loosely round my neck, my shirt untucked, my skirt short, my tights laddered. An open threat. Do you want to mess with me?

"Bye Mum!" I called through her bedroom door. She was sprawled on the bed, curtains drawn, oblivious to the world. I walked down the road at a leisurely pace, ignoring the faint school bell in the distance. I turned into an alley, glaring at a young couple who were staring at me, whispering in hushed tones.

It was my usual shortcut, the small lane cut off five minutes of my walking time. I lit a fag as I walked, bored to death. My iPod was out of battery and I couldn't charge it, as Mum forgot to pay the electric bill. Like she did most months.

I inhaled the cloying smoke, used to the feeling by now. I remembered the first time I'd smoked, I'd been twelve, the packet offered to me by Lex. I'd taken one, lit it, breathed it in, then coughed my guts up. That had been three years ago, when Mum actually cared about me. Most of the time.

I strolled down the alley, surprised at how dark it was. It was late morning, so it was usually sunny down here. The darkness highlighted the shadows on the floor, making them seem darker and bigger. Menacing. Must be a storm. What else could it be?

I was stamping out my fag, when something caught my eye on the sharp stones of the road. Something red. And sticky. 

Holy fuck it was blood.

I stifled a scream, stomach churning. The worst thing was, it was shiny and wet. Fresh.

It was streaked liberally over the grey pavement, in small puddles and pools. It was a deep red, some of it dried to the pavement. Blood stains on the road. It was far too much for anyone to have survived losing that much blood. Far too much.

I heard steps behind me: small, light steps tripping down the road.

"Please! Come quick, there's blood here, on the road! I don't know what to do, please just help!" I shouted, turning round to look for help, hand clapped to my mouth to stop an vomit. The image of the blood remained in my head, long trails of it, like something had been dragged across the pointed stones.

But when I looked round to see the owner of the footsteps, anyone who could help, no-one was there. But the sound of the steps continued, getting louder and louder, closer and closer. The sharp clack of the shoes on the floor still filled my ears, while the alley remained empty. I spun round, looking for the walker, for an explanation, for any way to stop the fierce tremors rocking my body.

"Who is it? Who's there?" I called, trying to sound braver than I felt. The crack in my voice ensured I failed at that. Suddenly the steps stopped, the noise gone, leaving the small alley eerily silent. Why would footsteps with no owner stop? But as I looked ahead, now frightened out of my wits, I saw something. A pair of green eyes, glowing like lamps in the corner of the lane. Staring right at me.

I think that's when I fainted.


There was fire, fire all around. Tongues of flame licking at my flesh, causing it to sear and burn. All I could see was red, red all around. I couldn't move, couldn't escape, couldn't break the bonds holding me. Holding me down for death.

Make it stop. Please, just make it stop.

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