Tale of Monroe

One

A cold. Of course, I get sick mere weeks before school starts- and when I get sick, I stay that way for a while.

I sighed and sat up, letting my legs dangle off the side of my bed for a moment. Eventually, I found the motivation to actually use my legs and walk to my door.

That in itself was a challenge. My room was almost as messy as my personality. Clothes, CD's, game cartridges, loads of books, and other nicknacks could be found in my cave. People knew it too. It didn't matter how many times you've checked your feet, by the time you'd leave my disaster of a room, you would probably have some sort of souvenir on the bottom of your foot.

I left my lair, closed the door behind me, and went down the steps, counting each one. Thirteen. I knew the number, but I couldn't help counting anyways. No one was entirely sure why I did that, we had always just assumed it was a habit.

I didn't hear anyone else in the house, which meant that my mom was at work. Even though it was summer, she still had to work every week. I shook my head. That poor woman needed a break once in a while.

Arriving in the kitchen, my heart swelled with joy and ambition. Other than my room, it was my favorite thing in the house. Honestly, I felt I had more of a connection with Cheerio's than I did my father. I raided the room for a clean bowl, an everyday mission of mine, scavenged for cereal and milk, and proceeded to enjoy my five-star meal.

A squealing noise from outside caught my attention, causing me to look outside the large kitchen window, which was currently allowing blinding rays of sunlight to pour into the kitchen. Hiss. As it turns out, the noise I heard was the mailman. Or rather, the mailman's truck. He pulled his little delivery-mobile up to our mailbox and put in a single letter, after giving it a strange look.I took another bite of cereal and shrugged, watching the truck as he drove down the rest of my street. Not my problem. It was probably some weird package for Mom.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I paused. Something wasn't right... I looked up in realization. I counted the steps like I normally do, but it didn't add up to thirteen. I counted twelve.

Considering my mind liked to play games with me, I brushed it off, assuming I made a mistake. Well, I thought to myself. I guess it wouldn't hurt to check the mail...

I turned around and began walking back down the flight, taking each step with caution and counting very carefully.

"One, two, three, four," I noted aloud. I took more steps. "Seven, eight, nine.."

"Ten," another. "Eleven."

"Twelve," I whispered. That was the last step. There wasn't a thirteenth. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, sending chills all over my body. I just didn't understand... How could that be? Pushing it out of my mind for the moment, I quickly walked through the kitchen, opened the door, and walked into the humid air of August.

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A/N: this is the first chapter of anything I've ever published to WP. If anyone actually is reading this, I would really love feedback from you. Let me know if it sounds interesting yet or not, I'll try to get back to you <3