Encounters of the Hairy Kind
The dim, flickering light of the boy's torch pooled in a golden glow over the ancient rug spread over the cracked stone floor. Moonlight spilled through the arched, embellished windows, now with nothing but shards and splinters of the original stained glass embedded in the stonework. Wind whistled down the long corridor, rattling doors and setting his teeth on edge.
A flickering in the corner of his vision made him whip his head around, sharply drawing breath, but it was just the tattered edge of a velvet curtain swaying in the breeze. He took a shaky breath to calm himself down and advanced further down the corridor.
He reached the corner and turned warily, swinging his torch around in paranoia. A flurry of something white swished around the corner, back to where he had just left. He whirled around, heart pumping, but the corridor was empty and there was no movement except leaves outside the window rustling in the wind. A noise behind him made him turn his head apprehensively, then fall to the ground in fright. He only caught a glimpse of bared fangs and matted fur before the things lunged for the kill.