Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24982950-20141218213447

I sat in my conservatory, looking out of the window one night, a glass of scotch in my hand. I spotted a figure at the end of my garden. I couldn't make out any details, but it was about four foot nothing, its body facing me, but its head was pointed at the ground. After a moment, the figure turned around and walked off, shutting the door to the conservatory as it went.

I sprang to my feet. I couldn't see the figure looking through the door, so I tried the handle. The door was locked. I felt panic, fear, confusion. When I turned around, however, it was all replaced with shock. The firgure which I now could was a girl, was sat in a chair, looking right at me with eyes the same shade of blue as my own. Some of her greasy, jet black hair that framed her deathly pale face, was in her eyes. When she spoke, a thin line of discoloured blood ran down her chin from the corner of her mouth.

"Hi, Daddy." she said in a shrill voice that reverberated around my head, swiftly giving me a migraine so intense it drove me to my knees and reduced my apologies to meaningless gibbering. "They're nice to me in hell," my daughter continued, "Because they say it's your fault I'm there. S'tan says he's bored of you now. Something about you not sinning again because of the guilt. Bye Daddy!" she disappeared in a burst of flames, igniting both the chair and the carpet. Arms burst through my windows, scratching, breaking, shattering attempting to get me. And I? I was lying on the carpet, my tears doing nothing to extinguish the flames that licked at my clothes, repeating over and over.

"Sorry Umie. I'm so sorry!" 