The warehouse. No one wants to go there. We will be the first to go in and come out. 11 others haven’t. Its 5pm and we will enter at 5am. Those are the conditions for winning the money and fame. The rusted door groans as it lifts and the loudspeaker counts down, counting the 3 of us to our possible doom. The whole village waits behind me and my friends, hoping to see us emerge in 12 hours. And some hope we don’t so they can attempt to claim the prize. “Go!” the call bounces around the open, looming mouth of the warehouse. I walk inside. Its filled to the brim with heavy nothingness. I shine the torch down and gulp back vomit as the beam passes through the rust mottled walkway and falls on a skeleton, yellowed with age, curled tightly in the corner. So very tightly. Jack, my brother, walks past where I’m frozen and gently takes the torch, spinning it around the desolate space. Spiderwebs drift like curtains, shielding us from the horror this night will undoubtedly be full of. Empty crates leave an echo of a time lost to mystery. Dusty brown air spirals round the closed door right behind us. Netted iron walkways stretch all around us, our cage for 12 hours.
A scream from behind. I whirl to see Rosie desperately swiping bloody acid from her top as it sizzles through. “What!” I yell as I see more falling. A waterfall of magenta blood forms a deadly pool fizzing towards us. Crunching iron under my feet. I stumble blindly forwards hoping for something to help us escape. Nothing. Trip fall and grab a rung. Rung. “Ladder!” I scream and Jack runs over closely followed by a near hysterical Rosie. Swinging down 3 at a time I hit the ground suddenly, roll and grasp for my gun. Its gone. Defenseless in a haunted warehouse. we run from the now red ladder. “Rosie!” I shout. She can’t run fast enough. A dull weight settles in my chest. A wave rears behind her, before it touches her. A flash of blinding light. A hole of darkness.
It's been 2 hours. Jack and I are perched on top of a dust covered red crate with what remains of our supplies. Very little. The red blood retreated after the flash and we haven’t seen anything else. Yet. My chest is empty and part of me is seriously considering giving up to the malicious forces at work in this !?!@?! warehouse. I watch dust particles, floating as if they were nothing. I wish I was. I turn my neck stiffly, and stare at Jack. Cold, dark and deadly he never panics, never shows any weakness and never any emotion. Just like the warehouse, with his dark hair, pale skin and colourless clothing, Jack looks like something out of a vampire novel. Rosie was different. She was compassionate, optimistic and brave. We wouldn’t of taken her if she hadn’t insisted. I shouldn’t have given in. Now her and her pink army gear are gone forever. My fault. Jack would say to face the guilt and conquer it. She would tell me to stop beating myself up and watch cute animal videos. Guess which advice I prefer more. we need to get going but frankly, i can't get the energy to move, or even the willpower. Strange shadows play on the wall, twisted dreams of a madman. Idly I wonder what cast them. “Leana” Jack says suddenly “There’s something I need to tell you. The shad-” his words are cut of by a loud crash. A dusty container along the row from us is completely crushed. By nothing. I stare as the next one closer to us is crushed too, and the next one, and the next one. Shock ripples through my body like an icy wave. Two containers left before we’re completely destroyed. No, I’m completely destroyed. Jack is already tossing our supplies of our container and preparing to jump. Something flickers in his eyes, a sort of hesitation, before he runs over to help me. Second icy emotion dunk of the day. Jack hurriedly glances at the gathering shadows. Something clicks in my mind as I land next to him. The crazy shadows, the crates crushed by nothing, Jacks worried glances, and the end of his sentence. Shadows. We’re fighting the shadows. I stare at Jack, he knew all along but didn’t tell anyone. That's why he insisted on so many torches. Torches that were in Rosie’s bag. Sprinting past him, jumping the rubble and racing to the derelict stairs, I run like someone chased by the very devil. Jack jumps towards me, hot on my tail and yelling at me. I don’t care. I need to get to the light before the shadows strike, and I know what they can do. Right behind Rosie before she dyed, the shadows writhed in primeval dance, a signal for destruction. But I can’t think of the past. Inside my brain I switch my thinking. And all is clear. The shadows are the ghosts of all that died here, fueled by the fear that surrounds this place. If they touch you, you’re dead.
A scream from behind. I whirl to see Rosie desperately swiping bloody acid from her top as it sizzles through. “What!” I yell as I see more falling. A waterfall of magenta blood forms a deadly pool fizzing towards us. Crunching iron under my feet. I stumble blindly forwards hoping for something to help us escape. Nothing. Trip fall and grab a rung. Rung. “Ladder!” I scream and Jack runs over closely followed by a near hysterical Rosie. Swinging down 3 at a time I hit the ground suddenly, roll and grasp for my gun. Its gone. Defenseless in a haunted warehouse. we run from the now red ladder. “Rosie!” I shout. She can’t run fast enough. A dull weight settles in my chest. A wave rears behind her, before it touches her. A flash of blinding light. A hole of darkness.
It's been 2 hours. Jack and I are perched on top of a dust covered red crate with what remains of our supplies. Very little. The red blood retreated after the flash and we haven’t seen anything else. Yet. My chest is empty and part of me is seriously considering giving up to the malicious forces at work in this !?!@?! warehouse. I watch dust particles, floating as if they were nothing. I wish I was. I turn my neck stiffly, and stare at Jack. Cold, dark and deadly he never panics, never shows any weakness and never any emotion. Just like the warehouse, with his dark hair, pale skin and colourless clothing, Jack looks like something out of a vampire novel. Rosie was different. She was compassionate, optimistic and brave. We wouldn’t of taken her if she hadn’t insisted. I shouldn’t have given in. Now her and her pink army gear are gone forever. My fault. Jack would say to face the guilt and conquer it. She would tell me to stop beating myself up and watch cute animal videos. Guess which advice I prefer more. we need to get going but frankly, i can't get the energy to move, or even the willpower. Strange shadows play on the wall, twisted dreams of a madman. Idly I wonder what cast them. “Leana” Jack says suddenly “There’s something I need to tell you. The shad-” his words are cut of by a loud crash. A dusty container along the row from us is completely crushed. By nothing. I stare as the next one closer to us is crushed too, and the next one, and the next one. Shock ripples through my body like an icy wave. Two containers left before we’re completely destroyed. No, I’m completely destroyed. Jack is already tossing our supplies of our container and preparing to jump. Something flickers in his eyes, a sort of hesitation, before he runs over to help me. Second icy emotion dunk of the day. Jack hurriedly glances at the gathering shadows. Something clicks in my mind as I land next to him. The crazy shadows, the crates crushed by nothing, Jacks worried glances, and the end of his sentence. Shadows. We’re fighting the shadows. I stare at Jack, he knew all along but didn’t tell anyone. That's why he insisted on so many torches. Torches that were in Rosie’s bag. Sprinting past him, jumping the rubble and racing to the derelict stairs, I run like someone chased by the very devil. Jack jumps towards me, hot on my tail and yelling at me. I don’t care. I need to get to the light before the shadows strike, and I know what they can do. Right behind Rosie before she dyed, the shadows writhed in primeval dance, a signal for destruction. But I can’t think of the past. Inside my brain I switch my thinking. And all is clear. The shadows are the ghosts of all that died here, fueled by the fear that surrounds this place. If they touch you, you’re dead.