The snowflakes danced through the sky, whirled to the ground, and settled amongst its friends. The trees swayed in the rhythm the wind was creating for them. The sun descended below the horizon as Anne stood up and abandoned the wintry scene that the window displayed. The stale air made everything dry, even the bread she used to make a sandwich with. Lettuce and tomatoes delighted her mouth as she grabbed her coat off the creaking railing but stopped quick, inhaling a dirty, gas-like fume.

Anne started up the stars with her scared, innocent, don’-interrupt-me-I’m-trying-to-make-a-decision eyes.
What is this smell? Is the house on fire? As she crept farther up the smell changed into an animal odor.
“Hello?” she whimpered after there came a loud, high pitched screech-not made someone, but by something.

“Who’s there?” she cried again, this time with a shaken sound in her voice. Her whole frame was now jolting with fear.

“Is anyone up there?” she stammered again.

The girl was answered by a low growl that erupted into a deadly snarl, she whipped around and stumbled out the door.

Everything stood still, the trees did not sway, the snow did not dance, the wind stopped creating the meaningful rhythm. All as if to emphasize the horrendous sounds that were now echoing off the walls of the house.

Anne drove from fright, fright of the snarling, fright of the night encroaching around her, fright of whatever was inside the house.