The Switch

Under The Bed

I girl comes up: Amanda. She slumps down onto her bed and sighs. She unpacks her bag and lays there still. "This is bad." I think to myself, as I try my hardest not to breathe loudly. She continues to lay out her school belongings on her bed and goes through her timetable.

Eventually, after what seems like an age, she gets up and leaves. I wait until I'm sure she has left before manoeuvring myself from underneath the bed.

I think. "Should I take her now? Should I leave without her?" My thoughts unravel themselves like a cat unravelling a ball of cotton. I make my decision; the girl is coming with me.

I continue to look around her bedroom and take a couple of photographs off of her shelves. I look at her belongings on her bed. Just old books and pens and pencils. Nothing.

I continue to wait patiently for her to come back up. She leaves me no choice. Stealthily, I creep down the stairs. On tiptoe, I make my way downstairs and sneak into the kitchen. Through the doorway, I spy my victim sitting peacefully.

I look through the fridge and help myself to some yoghurt. The yoghurt reminded me how hungry I was. It was delicious.

Knock. Knock. Knock. "What is it with me and guests?" I think to myself whilst slipping into a cupboard in the kitchen, just as Amanda appears. The door creeks open.

And slams shut.

"Stupid cold - callers..." Amanda mutters before strolling into the kitchen. She opens the fridge.

"I'm sure there was some yog-"

"Hello, Amanda King." I say, before a frying pan sends her crashing to the ground.