He adjusted the sight on his weapon, checked for the safety, and loaded his clip. He took a deep breath, and entered. Darkness enveloped him, which rendered his sense of vision temporarily useless until his eyes adjusted to the room. It was big and damp and empty, the only furnishings being an old nightstand with a broken lamp, a sofa, and some bookshelves. He walked on through the doorway into another, larger room. It was night time, and the moon was obstructed by foreboding clouds that made every shadow even more intense. His hands were beginning to sweat through his gloves, and his arms were getting tired from holding up the weapon. He’d had little to eat since he got here, and was tired and weak.

His boat crashed on the rocks after he’d ran out of gas, sending him and his belongings out into the sea. He’d managed to grab his sack and some food before they were ruined by the water and swam to shore. After he regrouped he realized that the only way off the shore was up, so up he climbed. He’d reached the top both tired and hungry, and headed to the first house he could barely make out.

Another strike of lightning. He saw the profile of the room, twin staircases that winded up to the second floor with bookshelves lining the walls. All the books were on the floor though, with papers all about. A cracked chandelier was swinging from the ceiling. The thunder rumbled again now, louder and longer than the last. The storm would be a big one. He quickly swept through most of the rooms in the bottom floor mostly checking for unwanted residents, using the untimely lightning as light. All of the rooms were in the same state as the first, big and vacant, with papers and books strewn about on the floor. He wasn’t sure if someone still lived here, but he had his rifle loaded just in case.

Now for upstairs, he thought. He walked slowly and silently up the steps, peeked through the first door he found, and saw a man.

He was laying in bed, obviously sleep, arms spread, head lolling to the side. The mans room looked like everything else in the house, unkept. He walked up to the man and placed the muzzle of his rifle on what he deduced from the poor lighting to be his face. He felt the jolt from the man waking up.

“What the hell--?” He muttered, trying to turn around.

“Stay still, old man.” He spoke. “State your name,”

“You came to kill me have you?

“I’m not here to kill you, now state your name.”

There was a pause.

“Your not welcome here.”

“Where am I?”

There was another pause, then a flash of lightning. The man’s arm was in a different position now, reaching for something. He could just make out the barrel of a shotgun. He shot the mans hand.

“Gaaarghh, [censored]!”

“State your name.”

“You don’t want to stay here, you aren’t welcome here!” He turned in the darkness and was facing him now. “ There are...things here. They leave me alone, I’m just old meat. But you, you need to leave now.” The old man’s tone was grave, and he was staring unflinchingly into the barrel of the other man’s gun. Blood was dripping freely from his hand, which wasn’t so much as shaking.

“Old meat. . . old meat.” The man kept repeating it.

This man is crazy, but I need a place to stay the night, he thought. He took his rifle and turned it butt-end first and smacked it against the mans face, knocking him out cold. He plopped over on the bed, knocked out. The man proceeded to tie the old man to the bed. The pitter-patter of rain being the only thing he could hear.

But then he stopped. He thought he heard something else. Like the pitter patter of rain but closer, and it was advancing. There was something approaching him, and it was headed for the bedroom.

I like it...good intro and detail. :tops: