Red

Haven't submitted anything for ages. This a writing class exercise for setting a scene.

 
 
The door was locked and bolted. Dark red, velvet curtains covered the large windows, keeping in the warmth and keeping out whatever lay beyond. A fire blazed in the hearth with enough logs to keep it fed during the darkness. Sparks spat and burst their way up the chimney, occasionally alighting on the dog who lay, absorbing the heat. He twitched and moaned slightly, chasing  dream rabbits. The room was lit by a single candle, its light flickering and dancing causing shadows to grow and diminish in the far corners. And she sat, legs drawn up beneath her. Almost lost in the dark maroon leather of the armchair. Her red silk dress, the thin strap gently sliding down her arm, seemed to breath as she did. In her hand a glass of wine from which she took the most delicate of sips. Her red lipstick leaving just the faintest of traces on the rim.
She shivered, the heat from the fire failing to give her warmth. Pulling the shawl around her shoulders, and closing her eyes, she tried to sleep. Images, some welcome but others not so, flitted across her sleeping mind. The room, this room, the one in which she had taken refuge, became alive filled with light, laughter and enjoyment but with a darkness lurking in its far corners.
She startled awake, afraid. Sure that she had heard something. Then a growl from the dog on his feet now, bristly fur on end, teeth bared and staring at the door. She dropped her glass, its redness pooling on the floor. Her hand, nails polished to a blood red, pushed into her mouth to prevent the scream that would betray her presence.