Out, out brief candle!

Drenched. I could feel the rain soaking through my 'water resistant' jacket and making my shirt stick to my skin. My feet continually threatened to slip on the pedals as I cycled furiously through the storm, smashing through puddles that sprayed water to the left and right of me.

I knew I couldn't carry on; the rain was so heavy that I could barely see three feet in front of me and I didn't know this stretch of country lane. It was getting dark. Not the slow, gentle twilight of summer, but the bleak, sharp sunset of winter.

It felt like just moments ago that I had set off after a long day at school; the sky overcast but still bright. I wanted to test a new route home and the cloudy weather didn't seem threatening. I was dead wrong.

This lane did not feel like a gentle country jaunt either: The smooth tarmac and visible corners had quickly given way to hidden potholes, thorny, encroaching bushes and blind turns. Couple that with the rain and screaming wind and it only felt like a matter of time before I crashed.

I had to seek refuge somewhere, but the lane was dark, narrow and devoid of life. I pushed on, pedalling as fast as I would dare without risk of disaster.

The flickering light pierced the murk of the clouds and rain for only a brief second, but it was enough for me to come to a clumsy halt and investigate. I turned my bike onto a long muddy track, that led to a dilapidated farmhouse.

The house definitely looked abandoned. The front of the house looked smothered by ivy and the roof looked on the verge of collapse. The windows were covered with grime.

At first I wasn't sure what had caught my eye, but then I saw a candle burning in an upstairs window. Then a flash of colour. A figure. For a moment I thought it was odd that someone would use candles, but then the power could quite easily have been cut by the storm.

I walked precariously up to the black front door. The door had little paint left on it and it was missing the handle. There was an old fashioned knocker on the door, rusty and sharp. I knocked three times. No answer. I would normally wait for permission, but I was shivering badly at this point: I pushed open the door, leaving my bike behind, and stepped into darkness.

"Hello?"

I called out: No answer, except for endless echoes. I stood there for a few moments, still shaking, dripping water onto the bare floorboards of the hallway. It was too dark and too bare. I had a spare bike light in my cycling jacket and it felt much better to have a bright, electric beam of white light in front of me.

It wasn't much better inside the farmhouse than in the storm. There was a small table in the hallway, but one of the legs was missing and it was propped against the wall. The wallpaper was scratched and torn and there were rusty stains spattered along the left hand side of the corridor.

I couldn't stop my hands from trembling and they were starting to go numb. My arms and legs prickled with goose bumps. I had seen the candle and the figure in the upstairs window, so I knew I had to go upstairs. I didn't want to, but I had no choice; I had to find help and warmth.

I began walking up the ancient, cracked, dusty staircase. The stairs snapped and groaned, complaining about my weight. The walls seemed to press in on me as I climbed; I felt like ducking down, although this seemed ridiculous given how short I am.

I reached the top and crossed the landing to the door. I started shaking violently. Not from the cold. There were strange, jagged symbols carved into the surface of the door. Even as a small whimper escaped my lips, I knew that I recognised them. But I still had no choice. I opened the door and walked in.

Even with my torch and the candle, the room was still dark. I can tell you that it smelled of damp, mould and something much more rotten.

Slowly, I walked towards the candle at the window. As I approached, I thought I could see a figure in green.

"Hello?"

Echoes again.

As I reached the window, the figure stepped forward. My cycling jacket. My face, looking back at me.

The shock passed and I realised I must have been confused from the cold and fatigue; I was clearly looking at a mirror.

But then the figure (or did I?) smiled and walked towards me. Looking right at us, I blew out the candle.

And there was nothing but blackness.