Today, dear friends/slaves, we will be continuing our terror theme. Only this terror? It involves darkness. And assassins. And possibly an urgent need for a bathroom. Write away. I will post my response below.
* * *
I cower in the darkness, breathing in the stale air trapped beneath my covers. It smells bad. And I'm talking really bad. Like, mountain-lion-who-hasn't-bathed-in-months bad. I swear I brushed my teeth.
Or did I? Perhaps all this, all the life I have been living for years, is just a dream. And the dream, the one that haunts me? It is reality.
I really don't want that to be true.
A floorboard creaks in the next room, and every muscle in my body is instantly tense. I close my eyes, trying to pray, but unable to wrench my focus from the violent death that probably awaits me. Do I get a last request? Because I would really like a trip to the bathroom right about now. Not that it really matters that I wet my bed, but I'd really prefer that the cops investigating my murder not have to deal with that mess. There will probably be blood and gore enough.
So I wait. And I wait and I wait and I wait, until, finally, I have to believe that nothing is going to happen. I am alive, and I am going to stay that way. And so, with a sigh of relief, I let the covers fall away from my face ... and stare straight into another one, right above my bed.
I scream. Loudly.
My little brother cracks up.
I sit straight up, clutching my pillow to my chest. "I ... You ..." I splutter.
"Got you!" he chortles. "You were scared, admit it."
That's it. This time, I am actually going to kill him. Or, you know, let Mom finish the job. I don't want my fingerprints on the body.
* * *
Oh drat. That just freaked me out even more. Well, it can't be too long until sunrise, can it? Can it?
*checks how long until sunrise*
For the record, I did not just swear.
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