The *censored*ignment was to write a short story that is frightening and kind of "gothic", as in scary? XD (its probably not that scary) it must have a "beast", and is good if it can relate to LORD OF THE FLIES, the novel we are studying.
The clouds that veiled the dim moon moved slowly with the wind. Two women, each wearing a scarf, hat, and coat – to shield them from autumn’s frosty breath – walked quietly along the gravel road. Although they seemed to be dressed so warmly, their long legs were covered only by the thin la
yer of tights, their feet uncomfortable in pairs of high heels. A thick la
yer of makeup covered their lips, cheeks, eyebrows, eyes – a pair of blue and a pair of brown. When they spoke, their voices warmed the air with vapour, but sent chills down their spines.
“Good thing there’s two of us.” The brown eyes murmured.
There was silence, as the bottom of their shoes scraped the ground as their paces quickened.
“Really, with all the incidents going on.” The brown eyes chimed again, hoping to find comfort in conversation.
A pair of blue eyes shone with a fearful knowing.
“The Ripper,” she said briskly, feeling her own shadows catch up to her. Her fiery hair fell gently at the nape of her neck; she was frighteningly beautiful.
“Yes,” whispered the brown eyes. “Three already…” She fell silent as they neared the winding alleyways of Whitechapel. She was beginning to get nervous, her caramel eyes darted from side to side, and a shiver ran down her dirty blonde hair to the bottom of her spine. Shadows danced and followed quickly behind. The brown eyes felt it now, the presence of a follower, shoes etching on rocks like nails on a chalkboard. Feeling it too, two blue eyes quickened their pace along with the blonde’s. The two prostitutes scurried frantically down the road, each shuffle getting louder and closer, street lamps blowing out as the wind sighed. Following just as fast, the shadows lurked closely behind the fiery hair, waiting for a chance. They were running now, pained feet in shoes unfit for these types of dire situations, escaping to the refuge behind the small turn of the alley. Their feet screamed, their shoes slashing in to the concrete with the wind screeching in their ears. Stumbling around the corner, her heart came to a shrieking stop as her chocolate iris adjusted in the dim moonlight.
A dead end.
The shadows crept into the red hair’s glacial eyes – a hint of fear and madness – and seized the chance. There was barely a snuffle. Clouds slowly covered the small amount of moonlight that had trickled in before, and surrounded London in darkness – except for a tiny flash of silver.
It was quiet. The icy stare watched tranquilly as the warm caramel eyes grew cold, her rose lipstick melting on her blonde hair and across the street. Finally, the one lone girl turned away silently, almost just stifling a giggle.
Four.
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