When I saw her, her face had changed, in a disturbing way.
My breathing quickened as I fell to my knees and kissed what was once her lips.
"I won't leave you!" I whispered as I got up and ran for help
**Inspired by the song No Face, No Name, No Num...
Brown hair, blue eyes, pale skin, that's me, Daniel Peter Kross from Birmingham, England. And this, as unrealistic as it might seem, is my story;
I felt my IPhone buzz in my pocket as I say on the bus after a day at work. It was a message from my friend.
"Why don't you get a life? This paranormal shit's pointless" Slide to read all messages.
I unlocked my phone to reply to him, as a another message came through, this time from a new number. The notification read image attached, I clicked into it, it was a picture of the Witley Court in Worcestershire, about a hours drive from where I was at the time (central Birmingham).
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
Next followed another picture, this time inside the ballroom of the abandoned mansion. I recognized it since I once would go ghost-hunting there.
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
Confused, my fingers dart about the phone's screen quickly.
"Who are you?"
That was the first thing I sent. No reply, although the person had viewed the message. Sighing, I tried again.
"What do you want?"
It seemed as if the world around me had somehow stopped, hardly a sound apart from my heavy breathing. It was as if the world was on mute, all I could think of was these messages.
Writing
"Help"
Writing
"He's got a knife!"
And then, nothing. No messages at all, to Whitley Court I go then.
A/N: Super shourt chapter, I am sorry about that. Hope you enjoy this story!
