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The sky was dark and daunting as the moon stared out at the looming landscape.
Wolves howled at the bleak darkness and bats flitted through the trees.
The wind swished as the night crept on.
Leaves danced on a whim and partnered with the breeze.
Unseen animals crept through the darkness and dominated their prey.
The stars almost blended in with the sky as they dimmed in accordance with their surroundings.
An old farm house stood penetrating the skyline with its foreboding aura.
Its wooden beams creaked with the effort of holding the structure up, its windows broken from endless hammering from the wind.
In the farmhouse, a lone figure silently waited.
The dark shadow did not move as it sat listening intently to its surroundings.
The figure held a knife; its blade glinted dangerously in the moonlight.
Thick red liquid stained the edges of the blade and oozed on to the hands of the stranger.
Footsteps approached the farmhouse, breaking the ominous silence.
An owl hooted in the background, disturbing the quiet eeriness of the shady scene.
The footsteps became a being, illuminated in the seedy light.
The two figures greeted each other and exchanged hushed words in an unknown tongue.
One of them nodded and they parted ways, heading in different directions towards opposite ends of the woods, their footsteps unheard in the sudden clamour of the forest.
• By Sian Davis, Year 13, St Peter's College