Once the others had gone, Alexis got out her journal full of her writing, and read over the last few pieces of work. They were good; her stories even creeped herself out occasionally. She had a few story ideas she wanted to try out, and was absorbed into her work quickly.
An hour later, she emerged. She could've sworn she had heard footsteps. The flat was out in the suburbs, and was one storey. There was no one else home. Perhaps it was paranoia. This happened occasionally while she was writing. She went back to it, but couldn't shake the feeling of someone else being there, watching her. She kept looking up, and glancing about the room. She could have sworn something was there.
There it was again, that flash of movement in her peripherals. She would have said it was her hair, except it happened when she was completely still. Glancing about nervously, Alexis scanned the room. She froze. There, in the doorway, was a dark, black figure. Almost like a shadow, except completely solid. Alexis blinked, slowly.
Suddenly, the shadow ran off. The sound it made as it moved was horrendous. The loudest footsteps she'd ever heard. Nothing that small could make that kind of noise. Grabbing her pocket knife off the table, she flicked it open, and stalked out of the room. "Why am I doing this?" she wondered. Slowly, she checked all the rooms. No sign of. . . whatever it was. Heading back to her room, she grabbed her bag, chucked her journal, hip flask, and money in, and headed out the door. Perhaps a quiet day wouldn't help. She'd go to lunch with Zeke after all.
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