The building stood alone and appeared derelict.ÌýA layer of frost carpeted the frozen ground beneath my feet. The crunch of my footsteps echoed loudly as I approached; the village flyer clenched tightly in my fist. My breathing was shallow and breaths came in sudden sharp gasps. I was trembling now, but my eyes were fixed on the presumably abandoned letterbox, where I was to deposit the increasingly crumpled leaflet. I reached the flaking door; the mustard yellow paint was pealing off in chunks. My arm extended to shove the crumpled paper through the rusty letterbox.ÌýSuddenly, as if by magic, the door opened. My heart jumped to my mouth and resulted in my breathing becoming even more rapid. For as long as I could remember the door had been locked, and nobody knew the whereabouts of the key. I could not scream. My mind would not concentrate on remaining calm, irrational thoughts kept appearing and running though my brain; all I could do was obey them. I took a step, then another. All my senses were screaming at me to stop and run. The door swung shut.ÌýI was alone. Alone in this living nightmare. There was creaking above me and for a moment I thought the roof was going to fall in; but it was only dust that showered down upon my head. In front of me was an archway; something or someone had torn down the Victorian style wallpaper. As I stepped through the arch, I could rule out the possibility that someone had done this, giant gashes streaked down the walls, four claw lines clearly visible. The paper had curled at the edges showing the naked wall behind. Adrenalin rushed through my body, as I realised the danger I was in. My ears were pricked for any sound out of the ordinary, and it's because of this that I heard the soft thud, thud of footsteps and then clang, clang of metal. Instinctively I moved closer to the wall, as if waiting for my fate to pounce. I gasped as a shadow distorted out of all proportion flickered across the room. Air escaped my lungs in a frantic scream. "Who's there?" a startled voice asked. I was too petrified to move or even answer the question; instead I attempted to shrink deeper into the dark shadowy corner. "Hello?" the voice echoed in the emptiness again. A small, grey haired, elderly man poked his head around the archway. You could tell from his stance that he was hesitant and unnerved by the high-pitched noise. "Hello?" he croaked again and then his eyes spotted me. I could see his tiny beady eyes enlarge with rage, as his porky features swelled. A deep crimson colour swept over his face and his next few words trembled with an uncontrollable rage. "You're ruining the set." I was so relieved not to have been confronted by some kind of monster that my feeling of fear diminished rapidly.ÌýMy confrontation with this little fat man, so furious that his eyes were bulging so much I could almost picture them popping out of their sockets; struck me as almost funny.ÌýAll I could do was muster the strength to utter two words - almost in a whisper. "I'm sorry." "Sorry" he bellowed "sorry." He dropped his gaze to the floor giving himself time to think what to do. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for, in that split second I darted out of the room. I hurtled towards the front door. It opened as it had done previously, and the cold November wind rushed in to claim the deserted space. As I reached the door I tripped and tumbled out in to the open air. Never have I been so relieved to be outside on a freezing, dark, November night as I was then.ÌýI ran and ran. Approximately a week later, as I was again delivering the village flyer, I noticed an advertisement for a new horror movie "Come in if you dare". It was then I realised what the old man meant when he said, "you're ruining the set". I was in the place where the movie was to be filmed and the old man had been preparing the props and wiring things up for the special effects. Months later the building lay abandoned once more, maintaining its original threatening stance. Once more it lay alone and empty... | 
