Scholieren.com forum - [VERHAAL] The pedestrian

Ok, here's the deal:

Opdracht voor Versterkt Engels (juah apart soort Engels ofzo, kdoe TVWO) was: verzin een ander eind voor The Pedestrian van Ray Bradbury. Nou ok... Ik moet em nog inleveren...

Het originele verhaal

Mijn vervolg:

‘That’s my house,’ said Leonard Mead.
No one answered him.
The car moved down the empty river-bed streets and off away, leaving the empty streets with the empty side-walks, and no sound and no motion all the rest of the chill November night. (dit stukje is eigenlijk het einde van het originiele verhaal)

The car stopped. It had arrived at the Psychiatric Centre for Research on Regressive Tendencies. Men in white coats hurried towards the car, grabbing Mr. Mead at his wrists and pulling him out of the car. He didn’t protest, he just waited for what was going to happen. He was taken inside of the Centre, the door locked behind him and he was imprisoned. He was taken into a room, isolated. There was one small window, and it was not unlike the bars of a prison. Only one piddling ray of moonlight entered, but it hardly brought sight in the room. Darkness surrounded him, then suddenly a voice.
‘New here, aren’t you?’ A manly voice said.
Mr. Mead tried to see into the darkness, and searched for the place where the voice came from, as if he was digging deep into the ground, he tried to locate the man.
‘Not used to darkness, are you?’
‘Where am I?’ Mr. Mead asked.
‘Wish I could tell you, but that would bring me into trouble. You’ll find out on your own… somehow.’
Leonard’s eyes started to adjust to the dwelling darkness. He saw a tall figure standing in the corner, like a statue on guard. Mr. Mead looked puzzled at him.
‘Who are you?’
‘Good question, wish I knew the answer, Leonard’
‘How do you my name?’
‘I seem to be good at guessing… There’s a bed over there, you looked tired.’
The man pointed to a dark shimmer, located at the right of Mr. Mead. He wasn’t really tired, but then again too curious to not go and see. The blanket was tender, like the fur of a kitten. Mr. Mead sat down on the bed, his hand softly touching the pillow. Looks comfortable, he thought, and he lay down, but at the moment that his head made a soft thud on the pillow, bands slipped over his wrists, ankles, and forehead, clamping him to the bed.
‘What’s happening?’ He anxiously asked.
An evil grin was to be heard. The man was closing in on Mr. Mead.
‘A new victim… fresh blood, a new zombie is to be made.’
Blackness entered Mr. Mead’s eyes, he no longer could see, feel or hear.
A dream, which seemed pleasantly, had started. Mysterious eyes flashed by. They were glimmering and glittering, flitting and flinty, then… no longer glinting. They had shut. Darkness had entered.

‘Make this nightmare stop!’

Ok, wat vindt men ervan?