This is my creepypasta I'm working on. Tell me about anything I did right, and what I need to improve on.
There was a harsh cold blizzard, which was brewing these last few nights. Despite the winter, they took up the job and explored these harsh lands, away from the comfort of city life, and into the dark winds of Alaska. The reason they came here was simple. They wanted to find out what the hell was going on here. What is this curse they should possibly not tread on? We won’t know for sure. They set up camp here a few weeks ago, in one of the abandoned towns that once a few years ago was thriving and going strong, but now are full of the dead silence and the cold winter snow still tapping on the doors, hoping someone will answer, but they never came. The group was huddled in a small shack with only fire at their feet to keep warm, and the low supply of food still sitting by them.
“I think we should go back,” Alex said, as the fire flicked beneath their feet. “We can’t go back. The communication hub died off and we still have a job to do. We can’t give up now.” One of the group members, which there was only a measly five in the shack at this time, got up and went to get her gun. “He’s right,” Dauna said as she loaded her gun, which was a simple two barrel shotgun designed for high penetration, “Those things are still out there and we still got a few days to go. We can’t leave now.” The rest of the group, Felix and Sarah, got up and went to get their supplies and weapons. “Come on everyone, we only have a few more days till the winter worsens, and we can’t just stay in one spot. Come on,” the group leader said, whose name was Jack Tompson if you were wondering.
The group, with only a few guns and some ammo, heads off into the dark, cold, hateful night, with only each other and some small amount of remaining hope to spare. What a pity, sad group, with only a job to do which will leave them died anyway.