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Footprints
I stepped off of the crowded city bus, relieved that I finally had some room to breathe. The glistening snow under my shoes released a satisfying crunch with every step I took. It was getting pretty late, the only light being from lampposts and the moon.
As I started to walk back to my cabin, I was about halfway there when I realized another set of footprints tracked in the snow. This was surprising, as I was the only one who lived around here. Intrigued, I followed them, inspecting them as I walked. They were inwards, heels turned slightly away from each other, but nonetheless, I continued to follow them. The prints became dirtier the farther I went on, to a maroonish color that contrasted with the snow.
It broke me away from my trance and I looked around to see where I was. An old garage stood before me, calling out for me to go inside, so I hesitantly trudged in below the heavy metal door. Seconds later, that metal door slammed down behind me with an appalling crash. I saw a man in a deer skull mask emerge from the shadows, holding a trash bag with blood dripping down onto his shoes.
“I wasn't expecting visitors tonight… but I could make this quick.”
His distorted voice sent a jolt down my spine, I hadn't heard anything like it, ever.
Suddenly, the single string light from the ceiling exploded. The room went pitch black, and I felt a rough hand clenching my neck. My breathing was weak. I slowly ran my fingers up the side and felt warm blood lacing my neck. The man had cut it, and he wasn’t stopping, either. The last thing I heard was violent laughter before I felt my body hit the cold, hard pavement.
This was an assignment for school where I had to create a small story using only 25 lines on google docs.