text: Misty looked at the classroom clock in desperate, childish relief. Her classmates were not so relieved, going up to the teacher saying how good the lesson was, and how they wished they could get another practical. Mr Moren smiled and gave his gratitude but the falseness in his voice was present in the timbre. Low between syllables and higher in vowels. Misty always had a dislike for Science yet today had seemed longer and painfully boring. The first week of secondary was over though, and she could finally rest. Her pencil case was the first to enter her bag, then her sketch book and notepad quickly followed suit. Her light brown skin complimented her dirt blonde hair so naturally that it was near impossible to believe that she wasn't a model, on the other hand Misty's lanky figure, never ending scowl and tomboy fashion sense were a constant reminder to her parents that this was but a dream. To persuade Misty to model would be the equivalent of teaching a bottlenose dolphin to play soccer. By the time she had finished packing her bags all the children of Class 7A had already sprinted out of the building. The falseness of her peers was almost laughable. She saw right through their disguises. Her father had taught her to, right before he left. For Caroline. Leaving her and her mother.... No. He was just as false. As false as the smiles on the adults that dictated her life. She vowed to never become like them, and to quote her favourite heroine, Keep it Real. The corridor was also empty. The light blue walls shone dimly at the hour of 3pm. Faint noises in the distance could be heard, but Misty didn't trust them. Her doctor said that only she could hear these and so making her special. "Sometimes, being special can hurt you and those around you, so take these meds and you'll be normal in no time", said Doc Leake. The same transparent smile on him. Her medicine tasted weird, and was most unpleasurable. At least it kept Him and His friends under control. They would go after Misty constantly, but however bad humans were, the meds they gave her worked. These thoughts swarmed Misty. Unusual but then again everything in her life was. It was the norm. Before she knew it, she had already arrived at the market near her house. No recollection of how she got there, Misty pondered for a good 5 minutes, then ultimately concluded on that she has been on autopilot mode again. Pavement was bumpy. The workers really didn't do a good job on Queen Street. Misty frowned upon this and vowed not to be a lazy worker. She frowned again, but for another reason totally worker unrelated. The marketplace was empty. The stalls were there however no one was running them. This Friday truly was strange. The blue door was back once more. Behind the fruits stall laid a curious little blue door that had light emitting from the bottom. There were rumours of course about the little blue door, the famous one being that Mrs Watson cheated on her husband with the young lad that ran the fruit stall, but Sandro never seemed to be the kind of guy running around with other mens wives. Mrs Watson however, Misty wasn't so sure. Today must be the day. If I start somewhere in stopping lies, then I'll start here, thought Misty. Her bag in hand ready to be used as a club, she approached the little blue door with caution. A rumour always had a tiny bit of truth, and if any of the rumours she heard from the neighbours were true, it was that this place must've been quite dangerous back in the industry days. The light shone more intensely as she came closer. Her hand rested on the door knob and the light began to throb. Like a pulse, the light followed through with a 4 step beat. Bum, bu-bum-bum, bum, bu-bum-bum. Though now regretting her decision, she opened the door to find a dimly lit alleyway. It's walls were clean, free of any signs of delinquency. The end was shrouded in darkness, unrevealed. Enough light was reflected towards it that Misty could see that the trail didn't end there. There was a corner she could follow. Their voices began to ring again. They were all panicking, some pleading her, others threatening her, but they all said one thing: "TURN AROUND NOW!" She didn't. Never in her life had she listened to these voices. The advice given was to ignore them. But this time, they did make sense. As she walked down this mysterious narrow alleyway, the inbetween of two large houses occupied by her neighbours, shadows danced around her. They crept up onto the walls and formed hideous creatures with tendrils longer than an octopuses arms, goopy substances dripping from what could be assumed to be their mouths. Misty wasn't so sure. She looked to turn back but the shadows filled up the beginning of the alleyway, until Misty didn't even know which side she came from. She walked on, her only chance to escape this madness was to pressure forwards. She tugged and pulled away the shadows in front of her, hoping some light would pierce through. The shadows began to talk. "TURN AROUND NOOWW!!" So they were the voices she heard. She ignored them and pressured on. She felt the wall run out. The corner had been reached. By now, the shadows had corrupted her eyes now, filling them up and putting her in agonising pain. Misty could see nothing more than just black. As she took a large step over the border of the corner, the shadows screamed and pulled away from her. Her vision was regained but so much blood had now dripped that it clouded her sight. She wiped it off and fell to her knees at what she saw. There was a mountainous collection of skeletons. They piled up on each other like gravy on roast dinner. But that wasn't the worst. The walls were now stained with blood, writing on the walls that said Amass. Misty didn't understand, but she cried and cried and begged someone to help her. Her bag fell from her hands, the cat charms disintegrating upon contact with the skeleton collections. She stared up in horror as to what she saw. Amass, the monster that she had been warned about. It was nothing more than the collection of rotting flesh and human skin, supposedly from the skeletons. It walked in her direction, bent down to her ears and whispered, "You shouldn't have come Around the Corner...." {Hallo, Makuto here. I'm a 14 year old with aspirations of becoming a writer. I accept all criticism and would be glad to have some feedback regarding my writing style.