marlz. daughter. sister. friend. cousin. girl. 1988. born to die.
lauantaina, lokakuuta 08, 2005
spaghetti
i can't resist the temptation to blog...so here it goes (oh, btw, its purely fictional)
it was very late on the night of the fateful incident.
clouds flash out in the cold night. a lightshow played outside my window for all the world to see, lighting the bare trees and desolate landscape in a most pretty fashion. it was the perfect night to indulge in a crackling fire, a warm mug of cocoa and a good book. nothing better or more luxurious that a good book and cocoa on stormy nights like these.
i didn't know nature could pick up and externalize the profound hurt that i felt earlier that day. the rain continued to pelt the field outside as i settled in a cozy position under the sheets.
the clock ticking by my bedside was comforting. my eyelids started to droop. suddenly, i felt the overwhelming desire to let the book fall, ever so gently, from the tips of my fingers and sleep. i succumbed to it and let the rhythmic ticking beside me lull me to sleep. i was breathing deeply and softly in moments.
the nightly tapping on the window woke me up. it got louder and louder, much louder than ever before, and i woke with a start, wondering what was its source.
i could not see it in the complete darkness that engulfed me as i sat up in my bed. pulling the sheet off me, i got out of bed and walked to the window. there was nothing there. i tried to rub the sleep out of my eyes. perhaps that was it. my imagination.
then i heard a faint knocking downstairs. my nerves were on end. i relit my lamp and shrouded myself in a wrap hanging at the foot of my bed. all was quiet outside. the storm was over.
i descended into the darkness in my living room, the floorboards creaking with each footstep. i was sure of it this time. someone was knocking on the front door. i felt an uneasiness that i had never felt before in the pit of my stomach, and pinched myself to ensure i was not still dreaming. to my dismay, i wasn't.
i approached the front door with caution, though i know not why i did. the doorknob was as cold as ice, and i shivered momentarily, pondering whether it was wise to open the door at all. finally i decided to take a peep, just to make sure.
i opened the door by a fraction and gingerly peered out into the darkness. who was this person who had woken me in the wee hours of the morning? my voice faltered as i called out, "who's there?".
i saw a little dark man standing on my front porch and he asked me for directions. at the sound of his voice my blood froze in my veins. against my instincts, i wrenched the door open, to get a better look at this man who evoked such fear in me.
he stood in the shadows, with his face shaded by a black hat. i felt as if he towered over me, although he stood at a height just a little below my eye level. suddenly the little black man did not seem that little at all.
again, in his chillingly low and grim voice he asked for whitfield manor. to my surprise, it was me he looked for. i enquired of the name of this stranger and what it was that made him seek me at this time of the night.
he paused and let out a laugh that was low and sinister. he gazed at me intensely with his black eyes that burned with a fire that i cannot describe. he removed his hat, revealing tousled dark hair. a draft blew past me into the house, and all lights seemed to dim as he offered his hand to me. i could only see him, myself and nothing else, as i took it.
holding my white fingers in a vice-like grip, he whispered in my ear with a voice so deliciously dangerous the terrifying answer to my question.
that was the day death knocked on my door.
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i know what most people are prolly saying by now : cheezy. i promise i'll not do this often ok. never been good with narrative in the first place.
oh well, i shall succumb to sleep myself soon before my head plops down on the keyboard. toodles~
marlz
10/08/2005 04:47:00 ip.