Degraded

Chapter 5-Sam

Sitting around the campfire, we are all roasting marshmallows, singing songs, and telling spooky stories. My parents sit straight and tall, while I, three feet lower, slump and gaze at them. They have to look down to see me, making me feel like the little girl I am.

We decide to make s'mores. I slide my fire-burned marshmallow off its stick, burning my finger in the process.

I yelp, making my family jump. At first they are flummoxed, looking at me with confusion drawn all over their features, then they fall over laughing at me realizing. I glare at them, obviously embarrassed.

I hope this moment never ends, I think, pleased with my life.

~~~

"Time for bed!" My mom announces to me and my brother.

Chris and I stomp upstairs, both of us wishing we could stay up longer. We separate, me going to my room, and him going to his.

I lie down, and Mom sits down next to me, both of us praying the prayer we recite every night:

Now lay me down to sleep,
I pray to the lord and my soul to keep,
Angels watch me in the night,
and wake me in the morning light.

My mother leaves and I hope for sleep to find me. I can hear my mom praying in my brothers room, and her flipping off the light switch.

I try to ignore the sounds I hear everywhere, giving me insomnia: the tick, tick, ticking of the clock, the air conditioners annoying air-flow noises, and my dads extremely obnoxious snoring. It makes me want to rip all my hair out in frustration.

When it gets to the point where I can't take it anymore, I tip-toe to my brothers room and peek in, hoping he doesn't see me.

I find he is under his sheets using a lantern for light. From his shadow, it looks like he is writing something on a piece of paper. This can't be right.

I walk as silently as I can to his bed, and all in one motion rip off his sheet, scaring him out of his skin.

"Boo!" I whisper-scream, trying to stay quiet so I don't wake my parents up, but am still loud enough to scare him.

He looks at me hyperventilating with wide-eyes, making me chuckle.
Once he snaps out of his scared trance, he looks down and jumps. He is holding some type of journal. He, fast as a cheetah, swipes it from his lap and throws it across the room.

"Wha-," I start but he is already shoving me out of his room.

Arriving in my room, I am completely puzzled from what just happened. I must have been imagining this, Chris doesn't act like this, I think. It's just a dream, I repeat, soothing myself to a deep, nights sleep.