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Emma Eismontaite

Emma Eismontaite


Total Article : 69

About Me:Hello! My name is Emma, and I'm fifteen. I do tennis as well as horse-riding. Also, I love Art and English, and have chosen to write stories because I love creative writing! x

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The Hungry Wolves

The Hungry Wolves

The Hungry Wolves


Panting, I look upwards. Nothing. Absolute darkness. Still, I run.

And the chase begins.

I sprint as fast as I can, the hairs prickling the back of my neck. With sweat trickling down my forehead, I start to see a shape forming in the inky darkness. I squint, not realizing I had slowed down.

     As I stopped completely to a halt at the door, I noticed that there was a note on the front:


Do NOT enter this deserted warehouse. Dangerous happenings can occur.


As I skim over the words, I hear paws thumping lightly on the grass. I think I even felt their breath upon my cheek.

     Without thinking, I slip through the door and into the pitch black. Not even seconds later, the door is flung open again with a mighty force.

     Quickly, I sneak behind a high pile of cardboard boxes, a salty tear running down my cheek. But I knew those boxes could not possibly protect me. 

About the Hungry Wolves

    Soft growling silently fills the air. Paws softly, very, very softly, tread the bare, concrete floor. Chains rattle in the distance. I can feel their presence slowly, gradually coming closer. Closer.

     I hold my breath. Silence, except for the loud thumping of my heart, blood throbbing in my head.

     Desperately, I sneak a sniff of air. Almost instantly, multiple paws come running in my direction. I whimper silently. Is this a dream? Please, please, please… just let it end already! I think. As I open my eyes, a dreaded terror washes over me. S-l-o-w-l-y, I turn my head.


I have never seen so many pairs of red eyes, staring at me.


I cannot even choke up a scream. With no self-defense, I push the boxes over them, and I start to run. The night seems to last forever.

     I can hear the snapping of jaws, the thunder of paws, the gasping of my breath.

     It’s pitch black. Suddenly, something looms in front of me and I trip over it. Scrambling up, I think, God, where were you when I needed you most? Please help me!

     They’re getting closer. I can feel it.

     My strength is getting weaker. I can feel it.

     My breaths are getting shorter and more desperate. I can feel it.

     But still, I run.

     But even then, I knew I couldn’t run fast enough.


I take my last breath.

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