He was just out walking in the woods. He went further than he had ever been. He came upon an old wooden shack. It look abandoned. He went up on the old creeky porch and tried to look in the window. The window was dirty and dusty. He pulled out a rag out of his pocket and wiped the window in a circular motion to knock off the built up dirt and grime. He peered in and saw an old wooden table sitting in the middle of the room. It had something on the table. He then went to the door and knocked, and waited. There was no answer. He put his hand on the knob and turned it. The door opened with a loud, long creeekkkkkk. He walked inside and the door slammed shut with a thud. He looked around, nobody was there. He walked over to the table. There on the table was a dusty, big bottle full of papers with words on them. He dusted off the glass to get a better look. He started pulling the words out of the bottle, they were all together in one big long string. He kept pulling and pulling them out and with each tug, the jar kept getting cleaner and brighter and more shiny. He started reading some of the words and it said “I am buried under the floor boards, do not take these words out of the bottle. If you take these words out of the bottle, I will come and get you. He stopped, he thought he heard the boards creek. He thought, “That is just silly, that will never happen.” He kept pulling the words out slowly. When the last one came out, a light shined on the bottle. He picked it up and studies it. It was curved and was a really nice bottle. Just then the boards started to rumble. It sounded like a pounding noise coming from under the floor. Then the boards started to creek and crack. Something under the floor was trying to pound the boards loose. He put the jar down and ran to the door. He put both hands on the knob and twisted it. Nothing happened. He pulled and pulled with all his might. The door was stuck, it would not open. The noise under the floor was getting louder, whatever was under there was getting close to getting loose. He muttered under his breath, “Please, please, let the door open, I will leave and never come back.” Just then one of the boards came loose and moved. Another one was close to coming loose too. He tried the door one last time. He pulled so hard that he thought the knob would come off in his hands. The door opened. He bolted outside and ran. He didn’t look back. He ran and ran so that whoever or whatever was coming out of that floor, would not find him. He eventually stopped to rest. He could not get the bottle out of his mind.
This is a story I wrote to go with this picture. It is a 500 word challenge to write a story about what you think of with this picture. This is my second story. Go here for the challenge. It expired January 15, 2009.
