MidReal Story

The Shadow In The Night

Gracie

Scenario: She sprinted down the hallway, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The darkness seemed to press in on her, the silence amplifying the sound of her own footsteps. She reached the front door of the sheriff's office and burst out into the night. The small town of Hollow creek was covered in darkness, the only light coming from the moon and a few flickering street lamps. She ran through the innocent looking streets, her bare feet pounding against the pavement. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to get away. She had to get away from the sheriff, from the secrets of Hollow creek , from the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole

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She sprinted down the hallway, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The darkness seemed to press in on her, the silence amplifying the sound of her own footsteps. She reached the front door of the sheriff's office and burst out into the night. The small town of Hollow creek was covered in darkness, the only light coming from the moon and a few flickering street lamps. She ran through the innocent looking streets, her bare feet pounding against the pavement. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to get away. She had to get away from the sheriff, from the secrets of Hollow creek , from the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole

Imaginary Protagonists

Lena

She is a resident of Hollow creek with a mysterious past. She is secretive, nervous, and cautious. She avoids eye contact with the sheriff and prefers solitude. Her presence in town is suspicious to some, yet she's tolerated by hiding her true identity. Her interactions are brief and tense, like when she quickly hands a bill to a store clerk. Her life in Hollow creek is marked by an air of anonymity and an unspoken threat lurking beneath the surface.

She

She is a fugitive in a small town. She is anxious, determined, and vulnerable. She bursts out of the sheriff's office, fearing for her life as she flees through the streets. Her heart races, and she struggles to breathe properly. The darkness around her is terrifying, yet she's drawn to it. Her feet bleed as she runs barefoot. She longs for freedom and concealment, hoping to escape the scrutiny of Hollow creek's watchful eyes.

I burst out of the sheriff's office, running as fast as I can.

I don't even bother to close the front door of the building behind me.

I'm not concerned about letting in the cold.

I'm not concerned about anything except for putting as much distance between myself and the sheriff as possible.

My heart is racing, pounding against my rib cage like it might burst free at any moment.

I can't breathe properly, and even though I'm running as fast as I can, it feels like I'm not moving at all.

The darkness closes in around me, suffocating me, making it harder and harder to breathe.

The only light comes from the moon and a few street lamps scattered around the town.

I count on no one being out this late at night to see me, but as I run down the main street, I catch a glimpse of a few people watching me cautiously from their store fronts.

They whisper to each other, eyes following me as I countinue to run.

Some of them point, mouths opening in silent "oh" expressions.

One of them quickly hands a bill to the store clerk behind her.

I duck into the narrow alley between the bakery and the hardware store.

I press my body against the cold brick wall, trying to catch my breath.

My chest heaves up and down, my lungs burning from the exertion.

Voices echo from the main street, but they're too distant to make out what they're saying.

They're looking for me.

I edge deeper into the alley, careful not to step on any of the trash or broken glass that litters the ground.

The alley winds behind all of the buildings, a maze-like path that I've used before.

My bare feet sting with each step, but I keep moving.

Past the dumpsters, through the loading dock area, until I reach the chain-link fence that marks the boundary of my neighborhood.

I grip the fence, scanning the dark houses beyond.

My neighborhood is just up ahead, a familiar territory where I might be able to find some safety.

I test my weight on the metal links, then climb over the fence, dropping down onto the other side.

My feet hit the concrete hard, and pain shoots through my toes and up my ankles.

I grit my teeth against the pain and keep moving.

I creep between the houses, ducking under windows and staying close to hedges and bushes.

The streets are quiet, but I can still hear voices in the distance, shouting my name.

I don't dare look back.

A car engine rumbles nearby, and I freeze behind Mrs. Peterson's rose bushes as the sheriff's patrol vehicle drives slowly down the street.

The headlights sweep past me, illuminating the darkened homes.

I hold my breath, praying that no one saw me.

The car continues down the street, disappearing around the corner.

I let out a shaky breath and sprint across the final stretch of lawn to my front door. My hand shakes as I fumble with my house key in the lock.

Footsteps echo down the street behind me, growing louder with each passing second.

I slip inside, locking the door behind me, and brace for what's next.

I peek through the curtains at the patrol car's taillights disappearing around the corner, then grab my jacket and slip back outside.

The library's warm glow catches my eye three blocks away.

Moving house to house, I make my way there, ducking behind trash cans when another car passes by.

The library door creaks open - Ms. Thompson must have forgotten to lock up again.

I slip inside, scanning the empty reading room before rushing to the local history section.

My trembling fingers find the leather-bound book about Black Wood Mansion.

Footsteps echo from the front desk area.

I clutch the book tightly, knowing it's my only chance to uncover the truth.