The golden-haired girl was playing handball against the abandoned house.
BEEEeeeep! The fading wail of a car horn broke her sunny-day fun, as a scampering, black cat hissed--barely escaping death.
Snapping her look toward the street, the girl's ball crashed through the house's window.
Only eight lives left, thought the girl, rushing to the house, pushing open the door.
"Helllooo," she called into the hall, her manners intact. "Is my ball in here?"
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"No!" spat a guttural voice. "I AM!"
Then a gnarled, oversized hand mugged the girl's face, pulled her inside, and the door creaked closed.
YOU ARE READING
Things Are Never as They Seem
Short StoryIt's always "fun in the sun" when you're young. Even on those days when no friends are around, the youth in you, and your creativity, have a way of filling days with joy--and making every second count. But the carefree attitude, and the lifestyle t...
