this is a dark descriptive story it will describe every detail of the unnerving feeling one gets from fear.
now ill tell you what i was about to do before something strange happened. i was working on a story or a comic (ill tell you later which one) i was on my laptop then i decided to take a nap but as i began to i heard a tapping sound like somebody was trying to come through the window. i was freaked out so i stayed quiet to see what happens but then i head a child call my name "Sam" but it was different sounding like a really deep voice more like a roar. i was freaking out so i grabbed a bat kept under my bed and hoped something would happen. then i hear a loud slam on my door. i unlock it to see a demon staring at me. it was creepy so i called my friends over. i was about to call them but then the demon comes to me and strangles me!!!! my vision was getting black so i had to stop imagining. i woke up to see my friends rushing in. i told them what happend and they said it was funny but i was still scared. i was about to tell them my idea but the phone rang and somebody said that there was a demon at my house. i freaked out so i called the cops and they shot it right then and there.“...A Demon Lost in the Dark.”
I watched as the man in front of me writhed on the floor. He managed to get the gun off the floor and point it at me. It shook violently, like it was in hands of a child trying to hold a hammer that was too big for him. The man’s entire body was shaking. Fear was radiating from him. Fear, and something else I couldn’t even begin to tell what. His eyes were wide and filled with tears.
“No,” he finally kept repeating. It was barely above whisper.
He squeezed the trigger.
I fell to the floor.
The echo of the gunshot pierced my ears.
The last thing I saw was the stairway.
Everyone, I told myself.
I didn’t get there in time.
Hell.
Hell.
Hell.
Hell.
I slowly stumbled to the police officers and the ambulance. They were standing there with their hands on their hips, looking at me. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. I wanted it all to be over. Something was telling me he would be alright. Noone else was hurt. The police were taking off his shoes. I wished he would wake up. I wanted to see where he was. I wanted to see whether he was alright.
“We need to move him. Move him,” said the one officer. They picked him up and hoisted him into a wheelchair.
“What happened?” said another.
“I don’t know. He just pulled the trigger,” I said, sobbing. I didn’t know if he was alright. He was with me.
A police officer patted my shoulder. “He’ll be alright. He’s already been moved into the ambulance. He’s already spoken to the doctor.”
“Really? But I thought he’d be...” My voice trailed off. He was downstairs, still in shock and afraid.
I looked at the officer.
“Really. I promise you,” he said.
“What do I do now?”
“We’ll handle everything. When he’s well enough we’ll pick him up.”
They wheeled the man away. I then saw a girl. She was at the back of the staircase, holding a sword. It was covered in blood. She looked terrified. The sword shook in her hand. She was covered in blood.
