Don't go to sleep.

Annie’s hair whipped in the wind. Her red cheeks glowed from either side of her face.

The leaves rustled, as if they were whispering the earth’s darkest, deepest secrets. She tore through the forest, her breath clouded the air like a cool mist settling on the grass. Her legs were about to give in, she was going to give up. From the corner of her peripheral vision she spied an old rotting victorian house. The front door creaked open, sitting slightly ajar, as if welcoming her with open arms. The house smelled of dust and the foul stench of dried blood. Annie’s body finally gave in and she collapsed from exhaustion onto the cold unforgiving ground. Hours later she awoke with a jolt, the memories of yesterday flooded into the room, haunting her like ghosts. Her head was on a constant swivel, searching for the answers of this god forsaken mystery. She was staring into the distance,thoughts mingling with reality, when she was snatched from her daydream. The noise of muffled crying enveloped the room, then, eerie silence. Gathering up her courage, annie advanced to the gloomy, unsatisfactory corridor,tall windows towering high above her little red head. The wind tickled the chandelier, making the jewels sing like wind chimes in a warm summer breeze. The floorboards groaned with every step. A chill crept up her spine and took hold of her. She was led like a dog on a lead towards the door at the end of the hall. Upon it were intricate designs gracefully carved into the cream coloured wood, of flowers and swirls reaching towards one another. Annie twisted the knob to the right and opened the door. It shrieked like a banshee. Inside the damp, dull room. Littering the walls was graffiti. A transparent white figure was hunched in the corner, sobbing. Blood seeped from her eyes,trickling from her chin down to her neck. The figure stopped and stood tall. It floated towards her. The figure was a beautiful woman with long black hair as straight as a ruler. She was clothed in a victorian wedding gown, that was covered in rips and loose threads, her eyes went from white to black, staring into annie’s soul, like the depths of hell. Her well rounded lips curved into a frown, and then into a gaping hole. The figure screamed a deafening scream that stripped the walls of their wallpaper, and ripped the lace drapes off of their railings. Annie had a peek into the past, the figure’s past. She could see the Dunedin first church, a lady, walking down the aisle in a beautiful wedding gown.

Then a dark pain filled Annie’s heart, the groom didn’t arrive. The last image felt like a stab in the gut from a chinese ring dagger. The bride was dead. Her body lay strewn across the rocks below the cliff, blood pouring from every open wound. Annie was forced to the ground with a THUD!. The figure was a bride to be, she committed suicide, thinking it was the only way to escape from her problems,but it wasn’t the case. Annie fainted hitting her head against the wall on the way down. She woke up in her bed at home. Her mum called to her from the kitchen. It couldn’t be a dream could it? Annie noticed a slight trickle of blood emerging from her head. And in the corner of the room she saw a transparent figure whisk away into the the rays of sunlight, filling her room.