• I rushed down the hall to meet Sara; she backed out of her room and ran down the hall. The air seemed colder in her room as I walked in, but it didn't seem very frightening, some of the wallpaper was peeling off the walls and ripped pictures hung on the walls. The closet door waved back and forth slightly as if exclaiming to everyone that it wasn't exactly perfect. Inside there was a picture, a small girl that clung onto something that wasn't shown. My heart began to beat faster, I could almost hear it thumping in my ears, her eyes are gone, blood seemed to be dripping off of the picture. Hesitantly I pressed my finger against the painting, cool to the touch and rough texture, no blood smeared on my fingers, just a scary portrait.

    Now aware of footsteps approaching I turn to see Sara standing at the door, with my mom.

    "What is it Mike?" She asked scarcely.

    "Just a creepy looking picture," I smiled softly at Sara. "Nothing to be afraid of." I walked down the stairs and grabbed boxes from the van, I might be able to live in this house, I thought sighing.


    Birds cooing, wings flapping, and boards creaking. This house seemed like a whole different place at night, on the outside it looked haunted, the whole house seemed to cry out in pain as the breeze seeped slowly throughout the old rotted wood. During the day we'd had time to bring our mattresses upstairs, but not the whole bed, so basically we just had a makeshift bed in our new box filled rooms, right now mine seemed just a little too big. If my room seemed this big, then my parent’s room must seem like a freaking living room. A sickening thump sounded throughout the house, like a bag of potatoes when they hit the ground. A scraping sound moved throughout the house, I shivered under my covers, it’s not cold tonight, and it just seemed to be cooler as the scraping got nearer. It seemed to halt at my room and a scraping sound, louder and more screechy filled the room, it sounded like something was getting etched into the door. I bolted up from my bed and heaved open the door, it groaned and whined at it was wretched open.

    Nothing. Silence. I looked down the hall to the stairs, something wet lay on the floor, I walked down the hall, my feet almost stuck to the floor giving off a sickening mucky sound, for a second my feet seemed to be knocked out from underneath me, my eyes popped out of their sockets, my breath caught in my throat and I fell with a thud to the wet floor. The moon gave off just enough light to show that blood seeped through my fingers and onto the floor. I shrieked and covered my eyes with my hands, something seemed to tap me on the shoulder, I jumped slightly and began to turn my head, my eyes widened and I almost screamed as I saw a knife inches from my throat.



    "Ah!" I screamed sitting up abruptly. My body shaking all over, I touched my face and flinched. My hands were freezing, but no blood was on them. I looked quickly around my room and noticed that it was no longer night time, sun shone through the window, the disintegrating curtains seemed to cast a ghastly shadow throughout the room.

    Silence.

    Dream.

    It was all just a dream.

    "Mike," a voice whispered.

    "What...?" My voice caught in my throat again, someone’s calling me, something’s calling me.

    "Mike..!" I turn around to come face to face with Sara. My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat. Her neck is slashed; she's clutching her doll, but the heads gone, blood, dripping off her body, making puddles on the floor. My eyes widen in fright and disgust, Sara...

    "MIKE!"

    "NO!" I shout.

    Thump, that sound it’s the same sound.

    The pain didn't register until after a few seconds and I realized that I had rolled onto the floor, a scowling Sara atop me. No cuts on her neck, no seeping blood, no footprints, and no broken doll.

    "Okay fine don't eat breakfast, but I'm going to tell mom you yelled at me," she cried running out of my room. I sighed and looked down, that dream was just too weird. I look to my window to see a rainy day instead of the sunny image I had seen in my previous illusion of waking up. My throat felt scratchy, my lips were cracked and opened when I tried to frown, I was parched beyond belief and my stomach growled at the mention of food.

    Sara left her doll at my door and I picked it up and threw it back in her room, something crashed and shattered.

    "What was that Mikey?" Mom hollered from the kitchen.

    "Nothing," I ushered running into her room. A picture had fallen; the glass tore into the paper. It was another picture of the girl, but this time the glass had cut and scraped its way across her neck, just like in the dream. No Mike, no. Don't think about that, it was just a dream; I mentally punched myself in the face. I quickly cleaned up the glass, careful not to p***k my finger; I hid everything in one of the many cabinets in the bathroom.

    "Finally," Sara said from the bottom of the staircase. "Just be happy its summer, otherwise you'd be late for school."

    "Whatever," I groaned along with the steps. Aromas wafted to my senses. Pancakes. God’s favorite kind of cake, or it was my favorite kind of cake at least. McDonald’s bags littered the table as my mom hurriedly put food into the newly found fridge, she looked tired and flustered. Well I guess that’s what happens when you drive for two whole days, deal with two complaining kids, and still get up to say good morning.

    "Mornin'," she grumbled. Or at least try to say it anyway.

    "Good morning," I tried to be a little more enthusiastic. She shot me down. Her eyes seemingly dull and lifeless perfectly reflected what kind of day today was.

    Rain.

    Boring and wet.

    Dull day.

    The familiar pitter pap of rain sounded on the roof, I love the rain. The scent of rain pulsated throughout the house; I dug into some pancakes and smiled happily as syrup dripped down my chin. I finished off the last bite of pancake and grabbed a napkin, pushing the napkin at my skin it stuck and came off with a suction sound.

    Blood.

    My thoughts flashed back to the dream and how real it had felt, the feeling of slippery thick blood between my toes, the knife inches from my neck.

    "Mikey," my mom almost shouted.

    "What?" I whispered, as if I had just woken up.

    "Sara and I are going to the store, would you like to come?" She asked slowly.

    "No," I answered hesitantly. "No, I'll just stay here," I smiled at her.

    "Are you sure?"

    "Yeah, I'll be fine, besides I want to go out in the rain while it lasts," I exclaimed.

    "Okay," she said walking to the door. It closed with a thud. I waited till I heard the car engine leave the driveway and head down the road. I sighed and walked to the door, pulling it open and closing it behind me.

    Cold. Yes my thoughts don't sound very smart, but it is cold. I tied my shoes and bolted down the driveway, I always loved running in the rain. The cold air swept around me, rain began to sting my skin and I ran through the neighborhood, my breath began to shorten as my black hair matted to my scalp, my skin seemed to feel like a shirt, only getting colder as it dried. I ran up to my new house and realized I didn't have a key.

    Shoot.

    Dummy.

    Why oh why wasn't I smart enough to grab a key? I backed up to the sidewalk to look at the old house, it almost seemed dead if you looked at the other houses on the block, The shutters falling off, some of the windows cracked, and the roof tiles falling off the roof. It even looked more pitiful in the rain, it that sounded possible.

    I glanced up at my room; the window was cracked along with several other windows in the house, for a second it looked as if someone stood in the window. It looked across the yard and put their hands up against the windows, something smudged, something red. Its bloody handprint seemed to run down the window as its hands sat in their original handprints. It looked down at me, and I tensed, my body quaking and shivering once more. It smiled a horrifyingly wicked smile and smeared the blood across the window.