Ficly

On My Own

John stood there, frozen in fear, looking into the mirror. He stared at the dark figure with the red eyes.
The figure was covered by a black cloak, and it’s face was shaded by the hood. But the blood red eyes glowed dimly. The shoulders indicated that it was male.
He raised his arm, and a pale, bony hand reached for John. John broke free of his paralyzing fear. Adrenaline pumped through his veins.
John dropped the mirror shard, and ran out the door. He raced down the stairs, trying to get to the front door. But onced he reached the door, it slammed shut.
John grabbed the door handle and tried to open the door. But it was locked and wouldn’t budge. John could feel cold air billowing down from the stairs.
It was following him.

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