Pitter-Patter! Pitter-Patter!
Torrential rain was pouring down, pummeling the dilapidated tiles and bricks. The relentless sound of the drops hitting hard on the surface was causing a chaotic unease. Amidst this storm, a tiny flame flickered in the rickety, draughty hut, like it could be snuffed out by the icy gusts seeping through the cracks at any moment.
"If I die, I die! Let's see how these ghosts are going to take my life!"
The extremity of despair and fear can transform into anger. The boy sat by the oil lamp, clutching a rusty kitchen knife, his bloodshot eyes fixated on the dim light and the shadows beyond its reach.
A constant trickle of water from the leaking roof was soaking a corner of his bedding. A cold, damp atmosphere permeated the hut, becoming increasingly heavier.
Whoosh~
