The Old Stroutt Place

Phew, my story is done. At least the first draft anyway. It ended up being about 4298 words long but it needs editing. My teacher liked it and criticized it a bit, which is good because it gives more weight to his praise. He didn't like the ending so much (I don't either actually), it's too anti-climactic. I might change it. Just for fun, here is an excerpt:

Jimmy examined the trap door that opened to the cellar. Finding nothing that told him whether or not it had been opened recently, he hoisted up the heavy hatch and descended the rickety stairway. It was cool and a bit musty, seldom used in the past fifty years. Empty shelves that used to hold winter stores lined the walls ending at the far wall where a door to the ancient coal room stood. He walked cautiously through the room, shining his light here and there not looking for anything in particular. In the very center hung a single light bulb with a pull string dangling from it. He turned it on and walked to the door to the coal room. It was a heavy door, and old too. The hinges were bent and it dragged on the floor when he pulled it open. Nothing stirred inside the coal room, and it was blacker than night with coal dust still coating everything even after so many years. Little slits of light coming from cracks in the coal chute door lay across the ancient boiler, highlighting it in the darkness.

Okay, so the excerpt wasn't so exciting, but it represents the story fairly well and all comes into play later. Here is a more dramatic one, but it is kinda cheesy when you read it out of context.

Jimmy lost all sense of stealth and sprinted upstairs, busting into the room like a one man SWAT team. Wynn stood beside the bed with a shocked look in her eyes. The gun lowered and Jimmy sighed with relief, “I thought you…” evidently when he pounded up the stairs he had disturbed the intruder, for footsteps drummed through the main floor. The gun rose again and he sprinted back down the stairs. He could hear the footsteps ahead of him, seemingly just out of sight as they ran through the house. Through the kitchen they went and into the pantry. Jimmy rounded into view of the gaping black maw that was the trap door and skidded to a halt. The footsteps were silent and he dreaded stepping down that dark throat. Taking the safety off his gun, he edged into the gloom. With every step he stopped and listened, straining his ears for the slightest hint of sound. He was almost at the bottom, the knotholes above his head were like stars in the sky of the cellar with dim window light coming through them from the rooms above. At the bottom step there was still no sound and he stood there working up his courage. With three great bounds he leaped to the middle of the cellar and grasped at the dangling pull cord. For a moment it eluded him and he started to panic, but his hand found the string and pulled, light flooding the dank room.