Ella Hambleton


My name is Ella, my game is... writing! I love to write about nature, and I always aim to create a real mood in my writing, whether it be that warm fuzzy feeling, or a tense, and foreboding one :)

Message from Writer

If you are ever reading one of my pieces and don't understand, or just want to provide some advice, feel free to comment. I am always looking for ways to improve and create more emotion in my writing.


January 18, 2016


Falling, falling. My body jolts as I abruptly awaken, stomach coiling. I see the red embers of the fire dwindling to mere flashes of red and orange, black shapes obscuring their hellish glow. There are no stars. Branches cast cruel shadows about me. My eyes water, icy air raking at my skin. How did I fall asleep? My breath slices through the unnatural silence. My whole body is frozen, fear stiffening my arms and stabbing at my gut. Each breath shivers, the harder I try to silence it, the more deafening it becomes. The clink of my sword in its sheath, leaves shuffling, bending beneath my hide boots. The light fades, I am surrounded by blackness. The cumulating fog brushes, phantom-like, at my ankles and neck. The ghost of a spider crawls along my spine, its web stroking my cheeks. Wisps of my hair and tattered threads of my blouse, that is all. I stumble over hunched tree roots, and clamber over looming boulders. I cannot remember where I am, the light from the fire long doused and out of sight. A breath of frost curls about me, still. I look up to see a faint white glow. The moon. The opaque mist is thickening. A shimmer. A ripple. I choke back a yelp as my feet are engulfed by icy liquid. I leap back, instinctively unsheathing my sword. In an instant it is covered by silvery drops of dew. My toes curl within my soaked boots, the cold spreading to strike at my chest. My breath is the only sound, magnified by the glassy surface of the lake. I hear a splash, and see the distant shadow of water rise, and rise. The fog swirls, and parts. I fall backward, numb feet losing their cautious grip. I see It an I know that I cannot escape. It crashes back beneath the surface, rolling waves splashing at my feet. I scramble backward.
The water stills.
The fog rolls on.
I wait for it to come. 
A few people have asked me for an extension of my previous short story, Still. So here is a small prequel. 


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  • January 18, 2016 - 9:06pm (Now Viewing)

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