My Paragraph of Mystery Writing

I had to get out of here. Fast. I could hear his footsteps, coming closer, echoing down the corridor. My palms were sweating; my mind racing. How did I get into this mess? (again I might add). I felt so vunrable and lost like a mouse being stalked by its pray. There was no way out. I would have to fight him alone. The door taunted me, laughing, as if it knew that at any moment it would reveal my worst nightmare. It was then that I had an idea, but it was too late. The door knob turned. He walked in...



By Macey Valentine