Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25980905-20150201123313

Well, here we go. This is the introduction to my first Creepypasta on this site. Not sure what to do here... Basically this has a trilogy of parts, this introduction being the first of the three. Just wanted to see what you all think; I don't mind harsh constructive criticism (it can pretty much make the story better). Without further ado, let's get this rolling:

Anything for Your Future PART ONE

Tap... Tap... Tap...

The knocking on the arched, oak doors echoed through the old and musty house; it reverberated off the walls, ran through the halls and ricocheted into every nook and cranny. It was this strident sound, coupled with the chilling breeze that whispered through the curtains, that served only the purpose of masking my presence in the house. The knocking was just loud enough to render my slight sounds inaudible and that freezing breeze whistled through the trees before entering the house like an old friend, smoothing out the thick carpet of dust where an unwelcome visitor had disturbed it. In a couple of minutes, it would be as though I had never entered. The trail leading to every furnished room, frosty window and piece of sheet covered furniture would simply cease to be. And still that slow, deliberate, rhythmic knocking continued.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

I had inherited the house, if you could even call it that, from my late Grandmother. She had always adored forests; it went without saying that her house would be situated in the very centre of a small woodland, hidden by the densely packed trees and the perverse and prevailing gloom. The house stood stooped and strained, overlooking a vast and abysmal lake. Despite the fact that it was a tempestuously windy day, the lake was a darkened mirror. It lay deathly still and nothing could be seen in that Stygian water, save for the darkened reflections that dwelled on its surface. The trees were also static; they stood like steel structures, neither branch nor leaf could be bested by the wind. By the time that unforgiving gale reached the house it was but a minor breeze compared to that of which it had begun. Maybe this is why I found the paralysis of the woodland a gentle comfort rather than an eerie admonition of something gone astray.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

I slouched against one of the filthy, wood panel walls of a second floor bedroom. I had opened all of the house's windows and yet the air was still as thick and hard to breathe as it had been when I first entered. The knocking on the door throbbed in my ears. In this woodland, the entire house was an alien. All three floors, basement and twenty-eight spacious rooms surveyed the woodland in a state of inner confliction. The entire building was quite a far distance from being anywhere near where it belonged. The house itself was a mystery. No one could work out how this property made its way into my Grandmother's hands and no one could work out how long it had been abandoned, not even the police. I began to walk, slowly and cautiously, towards the origin of the knocking. I quietly left the room, closed the door silently behind me and snuck down the stairs. The gentle breeze pushed softly against me, using what little strength it had left to deter me from my goal. There was no going back. I entered the first floor, I quickened my stride.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

As I walked, a not too distant memory swirled into focus around me. In this secluded world of memories there was no sound, save for the hollow reverberations my shoes made on the varnished, wooden floor. All the colour had been bled away, along with the happiness once held in the house. The carpet of dust thinned out. The sheets on the furniture dispersed into the air. I strode down the aisle of my Grandmother's funeral. The translucent forms of people I had never met took to their respective places. They watched me with pursed lips and grieving eyes. They searched for answers that couldn't be given. At the end of the aisle, on the opposite side to the casket, stood my Grandmother's doctor. I wouldn't be able to pass without confronting him. I approached and he watched me with a look that went far beyond sadness. He was the only thing in this flashback that wasn't colourless and yet he was so pale that he had might as well of been. I stopped in front of the man. The doctor was not silent. He answered the one question I wanted answered. He explained that he was the one who called the police, after realising my Grandmother had missed three consecutive appointments. He cried and shared his memories of her. He spilled his regrets on deaf ears. I shook my head. I kept walking, back still turned to my Grandmother's casket. A heavy atmosphere of confusion and disbelief hung in the air; the atmosphere was toxic. For all the attendants that day this was a grim situation, for we were all attending the funeral of an empty casket.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

I continued my stride, breaking free of those wretched memories before they went any further. I reached the next flight of stairs and descended to the ground floor. The knocking was now even louder than I first thought. It had continued without pause, looping thunder claps that acted as the only warning of a storm yet to come. On the other side of this floor would be the entrance doors, the final barrier between me and an inevitable encounter. I kept walking, this time much more hesitantly, as my mind went through all the possible scenarios that could ensue. In my distraction, I fell into another memory. A stretching trail, not unlike a colossal cobra, grew outwards before me. In this memory the forest had become distorted, as though the past and the present were conflicting. The trail was as it was currently, overgrown and obscured by the fallen leaves of trees that had not yet gone still. I watched as, in my mind's eye, the swaying trees of the past grew rapidly from the ground. Soon enough, I could no longer see the house I was walking through.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

I regarded the police officer on the other side of the barricade coldly. He mirrored my demeanour. They had closed off the entire woodland, no one was allowed in. He had 'politely' informed me of this only mere moments ago, telling me to either stay at the entrance or leave. There was silence between us. All that could be heard was the rustle of the swaying trees, the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs as other police officers searched for my Grandmother's corpse. The sun offered no warmth from behind the dark clouds that dominated the sky. The chief investigator had been brought up to the entrance to the woodland to answer my question. I only got the generic answer.

"I'm sorry Mr Dean. But no sightings of your Grandmother outside of these woods has been reported yet. We've got our top dogs on the case but we've found neither sign of her leaving these woods nor clues as to where she could be."

I nodded, satisfied with his answer. In an instant, howling could be heard in the distance. The howling was followed by echoing shouts and frustrated yells. The officer I was with frowned. I hesitantly asked if they'd found her. The dog sitting at the officer's side whimpered. It jumped up, lifting its head high in the air, and let out a deafening howl. It ripped its lead out of the officer's hand and disappeared, a sleek black blur, into the woodland. The officer was no longer frowning. A portrait of fear had crept onto his face, replacing his frustration. It was at that exact time that a foul stench made itself known to our noses. The stench was exactly how I imagined a million corpses, waterlogged and left to decay, smelled like. The officer steeled himself before dashing off in the direction his dog had gone. They had run in the direction of the lake. A week later, diver after diver would be sent in to scour the lake for bodies. None were wound. The source of the stench had long since left. The entire area was declared a crime scene, the investigation of which would yield absolutely nothing. The property I had longed for would then, finally, be passed into my hands.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

I fought my way out of the memory. Now was not the time for being caught up with things I no longer had to worry about. The police hadn't found anything. There were no threats to me. There were no obstacles between me and this house. My hands, without my knowledge, had found their way to the brass door handles. I gripped them tighter, my knuckles went white. The knocking had continued for my entire descent, a constant barrage against the insatiable void and impervious silence of the house. I was there to clean and inspect my house. I had left my shared apartment at six o'clock in the morning and made the two hour drive out to my inheritance. No one knew I was leaving and I as sure as Hell wasn't expecting company, especially not today. I was an entire two hour drive away from the nearest town and half that distance away from the nearest farm. Those twin, arched doors loomed over me. These were my shields and I was about to drop them.

Tap... Tap... Tap...

I threw open the doors with a burst of strength, prepared to face whatever was awaiting me.

Nothing.

The chilling breeze snuck past me. I stared into the woodland. Nothing but empty space where a visitor should have been watched me with eager eyes. I shook my head. I couldn't write this one off as my imagination. That pounding knew not of subtlety. I closed the door and made sure it was locked. The silence of the woodland was no longer a gentle comfort.

Thanks for reading this first part! I'm looking forward to any and all criticism I can get!

(P.S. I really hope I'm posting this right. I have no idea what I'm doing... I really hope this is the Writer's Workshop... I need to get more internet educated...) 