Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24038243-20150528151850

Donavan woke up with a start, he knew what had happened and his heart sank, the sound of the glass shattering downstairs had done the same to his nerves. It had come in. After weeks of watching and stalking him that creep had finally decided to break in. The patio doors, made completely of glass, provided it with the perfect entrance.

Donavan laid there in bed, in the blackness only illuminated by the small amount of clear light that the moon provided through the space between the curtains. He listened for the creep, listened to see if it was inside, secretly praying that everything would be silent. The terrifying cracking of glass under its feet confirmed his worst fear; it had finally made its way into his home.

With this crushing realization Donavan, now shaking, grabbed his steel baseball bat and crept downstairs deeper into the darkness, determined to confront this thing once and for all, secretly hoping though, that it would run away when it saw him as it normally did. Andrew stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening. At first all he heard was the cracking of glass under the creep’s feet, then, for the first time, Donavan heard the creep, breathing heavily mumbling “Donavan” under its breath. The creep gradually getting closer to Andrew.

Now out of the kitchen, the creep was finally off of the glass. It walked almost silently now, strangely more agile than it looked, especially considering how clumsily it ran away. Donavan realized what he had to do. He grasped his weapon tighter and... Froze, unable to move. He knew he needed to attack it but he just couldn't. The Creep was in the living room now and edging closer by the second yet Donavan was still too terrified to move, this Creep became the embodiment of terror to Donavan.

Donavan stood at the bottom of the stairs, shaking. He heard the creep getting ever closer, the sickening sound of mumbling amplified by the almost pitch darkness. The creep was nearly at Donavan, he had one chance to kill it and he wasn't going to waste it.

The creep stepped into the doorway to the stairs; Donavan was hidden just to the left. He swung at fall force; the creep quickly blocked the attack. The creeps block caused recoil staggering him back, then stopped and looked at Donavan, his wild eyes staring into Donavan’s soul. Donavan’s eyes grew wide at who he was looking at, it was Michael: Donavan’s oldest friend. Donavan’s heart shattered and still felt a deep fear of Michael unlike anything he had ever experienced. Michael then smiled and immediately jolted drawing his blade out in the process.

Michael punched Donavan in the gut, winding him. Donavan fell to the floor in pain, unable to breathe. Donavan rolled onto his back and scuffled up against the wall just behind him. Michael watched him until he reached the wall, at which point it walked towards him and looked down at Donavan as if it were judging him, lying there, helpless. Michael forcefully stamped on his shin, snapping the bone. Tears began to stream from Donavan’s eyes, the pain so intense Donavan thought he was going to vomit.

Donavan, now incapacitated, had nowhere to go and no way to fight. Michael placed his blade on Donavan stomach, pressing down, ripping into his flesh with Michael’s rusted blade. With Michael’s blade now fully through his stomach, Donavan started to cough blood. Tears streamed down his face. He passed out from the pain, and then passed away. Michael loomed over what was by now his bloody corpse. Michael descended his empty hand toward Donavan and then tore away a bloody piece of flesh from Donavan’s chin, dislocating one side of his jaw in the process. Michael continued to tear and eviscerate Donavan's corpse until everything  Michael could eat had been devoured. Michael then left... Calmly. Silently. With a pure and deep hatred in his heart. Michael left, the same way he came in, through the broken patio doors, smiling…  