Categories > Original > Horror > The LaLaurie House
She shut the door behind me. I suppose she didn't want anyone to know I was up here. This was my only chance. I quickly moved over the door and bolted it. I knew it would only buy me a few seconds, as she had the key, so I had to act fast.
I looked around me for an escape route. There was a door to the balcony in an adjoining room. The latch was rusted shut, but I somehow managed to get it open. I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. The doorknob rattled as I stepped onto the balcony. How to get down? Stories were far too numerous, for my liking, of people jumping off places like this, only to fall to their deaths. I heard the door creak open in the torture chamber behind me. There was a medium-sized hedge beneath me, my only shot. I closed my eyes and jumped.
I was alive, but I heard a scream above me. The witch, noticing my absence, had quickly discerned my escape exit. She was now leaning over the balcony, cursing me. Then she disappeared from the ledge. Knowing that she was likely on her way down to get me, I hastened to disentangle myself from the savior shrubbery.
Now, I am running through the darkened streets of the French Quarter. I'm moving west down Bourbon Street, hoping that the crowd might camouflage me, much like the zebra hides among its own kind from the lion. I know she is following me. Sometimes I catch a flash of those horrible eyes, watching me from a distance. Other times, she's a flash of black fabric disappearing around a corner. More often than not, it's just that awful, spine-tingling feeling of being watched. I do not know where I can go to hide from her. I only hope that I can evade her long enough that she might lose me entirely. I can only hope.
*A/N* Please tell me what you thought? Any comments? Criticisms? I hope you liked it... I kind of want to do more with this story. Perhaps, if people like it. We'll see. Thanks for reading!
I looked around me for an escape route. There was a door to the balcony in an adjoining room. The latch was rusted shut, but I somehow managed to get it open. I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. The doorknob rattled as I stepped onto the balcony. How to get down? Stories were far too numerous, for my liking, of people jumping off places like this, only to fall to their deaths. I heard the door creak open in the torture chamber behind me. There was a medium-sized hedge beneath me, my only shot. I closed my eyes and jumped.
I was alive, but I heard a scream above me. The witch, noticing my absence, had quickly discerned my escape exit. She was now leaning over the balcony, cursing me. Then she disappeared from the ledge. Knowing that she was likely on her way down to get me, I hastened to disentangle myself from the savior shrubbery.
Now, I am running through the darkened streets of the French Quarter. I'm moving west down Bourbon Street, hoping that the crowd might camouflage me, much like the zebra hides among its own kind from the lion. I know she is following me. Sometimes I catch a flash of those horrible eyes, watching me from a distance. Other times, she's a flash of black fabric disappearing around a corner. More often than not, it's just that awful, spine-tingling feeling of being watched. I do not know where I can go to hide from her. I only hope that I can evade her long enough that she might lose me entirely. I can only hope.
*A/N* Please tell me what you thought? Any comments? Criticisms? I hope you liked it... I kind of want to do more with this story. Perhaps, if people like it. We'll see. Thanks for reading!
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