A Stranger's Home

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Published On Thursday, November 5, 2015
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The hollowing feeling as a lengthy claw slithers down your spine, the solidifying feeling when the breath of that shadow covers your neck. Looking into the reflection of the window, all you can see standing behind you is an expressionless mannequin, with blood trickling down where the mouth should be.

I try to speak, but it is impossible. The tightened grip of another presence clenches my jaw shut, exerting incredible pain. Tears roll down my eyes. Frozen on the spot, and the only movement accessible is my eyeballs. A slight glance to the left, there was the translucent shape of a woman. I closed my eyes.

Five minutes of peace to remember the blissful morning, like it was no other. A misty morning, so thick, you couldn't see five feet in front. But an average day aside from that. Rushing to classes, laughing at lunch, resting my weary head on the desks between slideshows. Everything was peaceful, and I could happily live in that ignorance.

Returning home, night had fallen. Everything seems just fine, the overgrown bushes remained untouched, the tatted door was still a mis-coloured blue. And the windows still had a shimmer despite being covered with inches of dirt. It was a pigsty, but it was home.

Bursting through the door to jump onto the computer that subsides my boredom long enough for me to not have dark thoughts. But it was too late. The overwhelming, uncontrollable and inconceivable powers that resided within. Just a minute of total darkness, and the monsters already let themselves out.

The mannequin; the image of my distant father who left when I was two, with the only memory being the silhouette that hastily sped out the front door to escape. And the ghost with a grip containing enough pressure to break a jaw; the mother who never recovered from father leaving. Everything was blissful enough, as long as the monsters inside my head wouldn't talk.

But how can I forget the biggest threat: the one monster who even scares the others. Nothing more than the dead sibling with a shriek so powerful, walls would crumble. All it took was one howl for everything to end.

Back into my nightmare, the ghost turns my head to face the vaguely-expressed puppet glancing from above, at the top of the stairs. His smile widens, his eyes sharpen. Licking his lips as he teeth shined bright. I knew he wanted to yell, one last time. I won't be making it back tonight...

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