Animatronics Awaken

Identical Nightmares

Ah, who am I even kidding? Why would I share the story?

Look, it's just...personal, don't you think? Not just to me...but...

*sigh*

Don't you feel the same way? This isn't just my story...it's yours too, ya know. Plus, I can't write well.

Fine. Fine! Don't bite my head off, jeez. I'll tell it. I don't get why you want to do this...

But you're gonna help me. And the others. And hey, before you go...just remember...

People may not believe us.

"Cheyanne, come help me with this!" My best friend, Justin, called from behind the stage.

"Coming!" I called in return, startled out of my doze. I had finished my work for the day, so I was chilling in an auditorium chair right below the stage. I forced myself to wake up and jog up the few stairs to the stage, then squeezed past the curtains to the backstage. Justin was there, struggling to push a giant, heavy box into the storage room. Rolling my eyes, I found a placement for my hands next to Justin, and on a count of three, we slid the box into the storage room, the cardboard shrieking on the laminated hardwood floor. Considering its weight and the effort taken to slide it into this room, we didn't bother to put it in its proper place.

I dramatically gasped in response to the hard work we had just done. Justin stood up straight and smiled at me, thanking me for his help. He was around my age, younger by a couple of months, yet he was already taller than me. I was thirteen, and he was still twelve. But his birthday was literally next month, so it's not that big of a gap. We were born in the same year but on opposite sides. My birthday was in the spring, and his in the fall.

"Any other tasks you need to get done?" I asked Justin once we left and locked the storage room. He shook his head but then inquired, "So, where do you think those two fools have gone?" He began to walk away, his wavy, loose, brown hair swaying with his steps. He ambled as he spoke, waiting for me to catch up.

"Oh, you know," I replied casually and jogged to catch up, then slid my hand into my jeans pockets. "Probably wandering the building, getting distracted with something."

"Everything," Justin corrected me, and we shared a laugh. "You think their work is even done?"

I shrugged. "There's a chance. You never know with those baffoons."

Our group volunteered for the drama club at our local high school. We usually come in after school and help set up the stage or maybe help some of the students. During showtime, we would be the extra backstage members to help with props if needed. Although none of my friends or I even go to school, we're all homeschooled; it is a nice activity to do since we usually aren't occupied with anything. The weird thing I always thought, because of our age, we wouldn't even be in high school. Our other two friends, Ellie and Lilly, were also only thirteen. But the middle school didn't have many clubs besides sports, which none of us were interested in, so volunteering for high school fit better.

Sometimes, while helping out during rehearsal, we get ridiculed by the high schoolers since we're way younger than them. We don't have problems ignoring them, however. A lot of these "bullies" are just first-year students trying to appear cool and impress the upper-level students. The drama coach enjoys our company and appreciates that we four come in every day to help out, and that's the only important thing. But the teases and mean remarks are just part of the reason our primary job is to put props away and clean up after performances, like right now. It gives the actors and the coach a chance to go home and rest after a long night.