Horror Story
Maya Zelaya
Hour 6
10/30/12
King's Horror
Dark and cold, those were the two words that described the room. The only illumination was from the faint moon, a tempting ghost for a young and anxious soul. The room, though, held two souls, was accompanied by the lingering smell of pepperoni from a pizza. One of the souls was resting on the wood floor of the room and the panels creaked beneath his body as he shifted in his dreams. Although, creaking of the flooring was not the only thing to be heard in the room. What came from the window was the hustle and bustle of cars, and the soothing chirps of the crickets two stories down. The room was number thirty-five, a room number to a three story apartment building with a balcony. The balcony overlooked the Big Apple, New York City, the wind sealed out by glass sliding doors from the entrance of the balcony. White glossy walls invited a hand to investigate, but to the touch, the wall had a rough texture that could scrape and cut at your skin. The rest of room thirty-five was empty. There were only two beds, a Japanese style futon, and a couch pull out; along with a few dressers, an entertainment stand, coffee table, dining table, and night stands. Everything was wooden, with red, navy blue, gold, or black accents. Stirring from the pull out couch, was a young and tall man. He had tanned skin, his hair a dusty brown with natural black highlights. His eyes, shining with the glow of the moon, gazed around the room, investigating the surrounding. His name was King, a Twenty-One year old college Junior. He smiled, seeing the first soul, asleep on the floor. The one on the floor was one of King's best friends, and his foster brother. His name was Dexter; he was a funny guy with straight blond hair and icy blue eyes. He was much older than King, yet never went to college since King's mother didn't have enough money to support him, plus he wasn't too fond of the idea of it nonetheless. "He sleeps like a bear in
Hour 6
10/30/12
King's Horror
Dark and cold, those were the two words that described the room. The only illumination was from the faint moon, a tempting ghost for a young and anxious soul. The room, though, held two souls, was accompanied by the lingering smell of pepperoni from a pizza. One of the souls was resting on the wood floor of the room and the panels creaked beneath his body as he shifted in his dreams. Although, creaking of the flooring was not the only thing to be heard in the room. What came from the window was the hustle and bustle of cars, and the soothing chirps of the crickets two stories down. The room was number thirty-five, a room number to a three story apartment building with a balcony. The balcony overlooked the Big Apple, New York City, the wind sealed out by glass sliding doors from the entrance of the balcony. White glossy walls invited a hand to investigate, but to the touch, the wall had a rough texture that could scrape and cut at your skin. The rest of room thirty-five was empty. There were only two beds, a Japanese style futon, and a couch pull out; along with a few dressers, an entertainment stand, coffee table, dining table, and night stands. Everything was wooden, with red, navy blue, gold, or black accents. Stirring from the pull out couch, was a young and tall man. He had tanned skin, his hair a dusty brown with natural black highlights. His eyes, shining with the glow of the moon, gazed around the room, investigating the surrounding. His name was King, a Twenty-One year old college Junior. He smiled, seeing the first soul, asleep on the floor. The one on the floor was one of King's best friends, and his foster brother. His name was Dexter; he was a funny guy with straight blond hair and icy blue eyes. He was much older than King, yet never went to college since King's mother didn't have enough money to support him, plus he wasn't too fond of the idea of it nonetheless. "He sleeps like a bear in