A NOISE IN THE NIGHT

After our investigation of fairy tales and their revisitations, it is your time to write your story.  This is the beginning:

I was in the middle of reading a ghost story, when the lights flickered and went out.  Then I heard a noise.  It might have been the wind knowcking a tree banch against the house or it might have been…..

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One thought on “A NOISE IN THE NIGHT

  1. I was in the middle of reading a ghost story, when the lights flickered and went out. Then I heard a noise. It might have been the wind knocking a tree branch agaist the house or it might have been my little sister sneaking out of her bedroom.
    I bet it was her.
    For a couple of nights now, when I sneak in her bedroom after a hellish nightmare, I’ve found her small bed empty.
    At age 15 Cassandra is what you can call a difficult child.
    She is both spoilt and fussy, minacing and wild.
    I suppose she’s running off to an Underground Party where booze flows freely like a hot frizzling stream and underage children smoke pot.
    The lights are still out. She usually does this: switching off the electricity panel so that the lights won’t flood through the windows and onto the garden.
    I get out of bed and look out the window: there she is, in her black converse and red hoodie, climbing down from our skinny, almost famished, oak tree.
    As her small feet touch the ground, I spot a rustle in the bush across our street.
    Focusing and trying to sharpen my vision, I spot a skinny-looking guy clad in different shades of blue, approching her.
    Just then he waves and a smile flickers in the darkness. If only MY bedsidetable-lamp would flicker like that!
    At first she jumps out of her skin, then she smacks his shoulder, hard. Laughing. Grrrr…Soooo annoying.
    Envy engulfs me and the feeling of being alone, in the dark, smothers me.
    It bugs me to be alone.
    In my room.
    In the dark.
    In an unwelcoming home.
    Reading a ghost story when I could probably be outdoors, savouring life.
    I would have preferred being chased by a blood-sucking monster than being trapped like a fly in my spider-web like sheets.
    Reality sucks.
    I crawl back to bed, lolloping, swearing under my breath.

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