paranormal - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The dark and shadowy corridor illuminated in light for a split second. The camera let out a small whirring sound. A small photo slid out. Harry anxiously retrieved the photo and fanned it out. Gulping as he stared at the photo of the barren corridor, dingy with only doors standing parallel to each other, he caught a glimpse of a murky shadow leaping from the wall that was approximately ten feet away. The shadow became an oozy black substance, tar-like and viscous. It moved over the Persian rug, leaving a trail that looked like burnt earth. Harry turned whiter than snow. He wanted to run. Instead, he forced his body to inch forward. What was it? The oozing tar seemed to be coming from one of the next-door apartments, Amora's.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Harry heard the knocks come in pairs of sixes, three times. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Um, hello?” He called out tentatively taking a step towards the end of the hallway. Taking the largest inhale he ever took in his life, he approached the door. He raised his fist to knock, but there was no answer. He tried again, but still, no one answered. A shaky sigh escaped his parted lips. He knew Amora was in there, she always was. “M-Miss, Ricardane?” No answer. Without warning, the black ooze rose, pulling at his feet. He stumbled backwards, falling in the process. Harry yanked and thrashed his legs, but it was no use. Whatever had harmed Amora was coming for him too.
Abruptly, a chill rose up his spine making him shiver. Something was here with him and he could feel it. James whipped around. Sounds of hushed whispering seemed to be erupting and spilling from the peeling flower walls. Was he going crazy? This couldn’t be happening. "This isn’t real," he told himself. Yet it felt nothing but real and absolute to James.
A breath so hoarse and so faint echoed around him, coming from the south of the room. James slowly turned his head over his shoulder and the whispering stopped. The air chilled to ice and his laboured breathing became the only sound... it was hanging from the ceiling, crawling ever so slowly towards him, dark and brooding.
Creak. Crrk. Creak. Crrk. Crreakk.