The Haunting

A young girl, by a forest, shivering with uncontrollable fear; of being alone, on a cold, dark night.
The wind whispers to her, come, come, and the trees beckon, extending long, cruel claws.
She turns and flees, stumbling, slipping on the icy ground, then runs into an old, crumbling mansion.
She collapses in a heap, cobwebs tangling in her hair, sobs racking her body.
From the still shroud of night, a man steps forward.
Knife in hand, he follows the sound of the girl sobbing, twisting his knife so it glints in the cold moonlight.
A scream pierces the air, but nobody hears.
Footsteps sound, a creature of the night, more deadly than the man himself.
He reaches for the girl in a vain attempt to shield himself, but she has disappeared.
She lies outside, unmoving, a cold, pale corpse on the icy ground.