Enter your story of 300 words or less. |
The full moon illuminated the trio, casting a bright shadow on their black-clad bodies as they darted stealthily through the cornfield. “Come on! We’re almost there!” said the group’s leader, about a 15-year-old boy, who was leading the group with the confidence of one who knew what they were doing. As a wolf howled in the distance, the youngest of the group, who only stood to be 13 years old or less, stopped, stubbornly refusing to move as the other two vigorously attempted to reorient the fellow. The leader’s sidekick, whose upcoming statement was made all the more eerie with the night’s shadow covering his face with zest, said: “ He’s not moving.” The leader responded with a grunt and started to move again. “ We don’t have time for this. Let’s just go.” And then they moved, quicker than ever, until they saw an old, but large brownstone mansion placed squarely in the midst of the countryside, looking oddly out of place in the full land. The two dashed through the tall grass with excitement and anxiety outweighing their moralities, forcing them blind to the horrible truth of their actions. They entered the house with purpose as if they knew they were supposed to be there. After a thorough search of the first and second floors, the sidekick groaned with disappointment. “ I thought it would be here,” he said. The leader nodded his agreement, but as he moved a vase of flowers on a brown table, a bookcase slid aside with a large rumble. The leader shouted out with glee, as the sidekick watched. “ Careful!” said the sidekick with sudden uneasiness creeping across his thin, angular face. “ You’ll wake the owners.” “ They’re fast asleep. We’re fine.” Nodding his concurrence, the sidekick entered the room. “ John. We’ve found it.” |