PYRONORMAL VANISHTIVITY
by KYLA
Stan sat in the driver’s seat, clutching the rapidly deteriorating steering wheel, in front of the only two-story house on Hill Street. Stan loved to set houses on fire, the blazing glory of bright golden flames hitting the skyline. He was one of those pyromaniacs, who would look forward to the action of eliminating someone else’s valuables.
In the leather seats of the minivan he sat. He grinned sinisterly to himself as a young brunette walked casually by. This flame-broiled pyromaniac was looking for a match, but in this case, her name was Isabelle. She also happened to be the young brunette who walked by a few minutes ago.
She turned to unlock her black Dodge Neon when Stan stepped out of his minivan nervously. He walked up to the young brunette, glancing at her with his midnight neon eyes. She glanced up at him curiously with eyes as blue as the Atlantic Ocean. Isabelle had natural hot pink lips, light caramel skin, and a raging, yet calm, fire in her deep blue eyes.
“It’s a little chilly out here, isn’t it?” Stan asked.
Isabelle nodded as the frustration of not being able to unlock her car impaled her.
“Do you need a ride?” Stan asked.
Isabelle turned to him, shivering before she answered, “Sure”.
He opened the vehicle door for her before he got in himself. They drove in an awkward silence that lasted amongst the watch’s time.
“Where to?” Stan asked.
“The in-town suite on the left,” she replied.
He pulled into the gravel parking lot and parked. She still did not move, nor look at him.
“Here we are,” Stan said.
“This isn’t it. I was looking for the one in West Virginia,” she stated.
So he pulled out and drove along the road once more. Isabelle tensed as the sound of police sirens caught the drift of the wind. Fog blinded the windshield as darkness sunk in on the chariot couple.
From in front of them the sound of tornado sirens drowned out the sound of the police sirens. The couple kept on the road as they neared the town of Silent Hill in West Virginia. Suddenly, the couple themselves vanished. And the only sound that cracked the silence was the barking of dogs.
WHO WE ARE
Exclusive Ink is Shortridge High School's dynamic creative writing group. This is the place for our work to glow.WHAT WE DO
We write poems, short stories, essays, and whatever us inspires us. We share our work aloud and support each other.WHY WE WRITE
Because it's freedom. Because it's fun.