Nightly Visit (A short story)

Vi fik en opgave for i min klasse om at vi skulle skrive en kort Novelle... Og så fik jeg bare sådan en lyst til at Poste den her, så i kunne komme med alle jeres fornærmelser og pege mine stavefejl ud :D
(Kom bare med Feedback, hvis jeg ikke kan lide det, så har jeg alligevel tænkt mig at ignorere det, medmindre du har en pointe!)





The house was the last one on the street. The house itself was an antiquity, an old memory from the time when it still was an art to build houses, or at least the front of the house looked like it was that old with its white walls, the thick poles of lumber to support the roof and the first floor. The windows was large and welcoming with their curtains drawn off and being slightly open to let the warm summer breeze in.
The front yard was with grass cut down to the perfect size, the hedge around was cut in a manner that made you wonder if the person cutting them was an undiscovered artist or nothing short of a genius and the trees was shaped like perfect circles.
The door was a small piece of art with the fine carvings made into the wood itself so it made a painting without any paint. With the light from the street lamp the shadows made it look like there was a black color and a more warm brownish color that made the painting even more alive. The handle was a little piece of metal that was one piece and was as fine made as the door was.
It wouldn’t budge.

The back of the house wasn’t as impressing as the front, especially with the garden being pretty much a big jungle of uncut grass; trees whose thick leaves almost made it look like the tree was slumping downwards and the bush that surrounded the garden was leaping out after anyone stupid enough to go too close. Any garden furniture there might have been back here was gone: eaten by the jungle.
Here, the paint on the house was close to falling off; the windows weren’t even cleaned and filled with millions of spider’s web and the door was a double door with a net door in front and a cheap plastic door behind. No ornate carvings on anything or anything that might have an appeal to the eye. Nothing.
A net door was only good at protecting you against insects, didn’t do anything against anything bigger. It screeched when it got up, it thirsted for oil. The second that was made mostly of plastic had a simple lock and an even simpler round handle.
It screeched too.

She opened her eyes. The TV kept on talking like nothing had happened. Some fat man was on the screen looking at a dead body of some woman and talking to a slim guy and.-
There it was again!
Her blood ran through her and she started to pant for air. Quietly she came on her feet and tried to turn the volume down. Her fingers fumbled and she turned it over to another channel. She panicked and just dropped the remote on to the couch before she made a dash to the kitchen. The phone jumped in her hand on the way. The fingers on one hand clicked the three number combination while the other hand grabbed onto one of the kitchen knives.
“I’d love to kill you with a Kiss… I’d like to strike you down with bliss… I’d like to tie you up in knots, until your heart… Stops…”

She heard the steps just outside the kitchen door and she noticed that she hold her breath. The song from the TV sounded ridiculously loud in her ears. How could something that far into the living room, sound so high in here? Slowly, so slow and as silent as possible, she got closer to the door with the knife in front of her.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?... Hello? Is someone there?”
“I’d love to kill you while you eat… The pleasure would taste so sweet… I’d like to open up your skin… And wander there within…”