Shrieking winds whistled through cracked panes, echoing like the voices of a hundred banshees. Winter changed the mood at Rolling Hills. The troubled souls occupying the padded rooms were edgy. On nights like this, woodland moans sounded like human howls. He looked down the deserted corridor, the white walls exaggerating the stark moonlight. Branches cast shadows, imagined ghouls waving a terrifying greeting. He was disturbed by the unfamiliarity of the reception area. Huge double-locked doors stood between him and the wild world beyond. The keys jangled like his nerves. Patients didn’t usually find themselves this close to the front door.
Our house guest Jess (aged 11) wrote a one-hundred-word story about a ‘haunted house’. She challenged me to write on the same theme. I am in trouble for interpreting the theme too ‘loosely’.
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100 words yes...but I want MORE. I love that ending is neat and tidy, but leaves room for the reader to imagine what happens.
And one flew over the cuckoos nest... brilliant!