My small story began on a day. That day is not important, but the night is. I live in a small city in south Nebraska. AKA, cat country. That is why a cat landed on me in the middle of the night from my windowsill. Georgio, yes, I knew it's name, had fallen on me 2 times before now, but this time his claws were out. They raked across my cheek and drew blood. I sat up quickly, throwing Georgio to the floor. He arched his back and hissed. He never liked me much. I turned my torso to the left hand side and propped myself up on one elbow. My alarm clock read 3:00 am on its digital face which was much too early to get ready for school. I reached down to the floor and grabbed a dirty gym towel.
I mopped up the blood and tentatively felt the wound. not too deep, but stinging. I decided that I would go to the bathroom and clean it up more when my phone buzzed to life. I picked it up and read the number on top of the display. A number from out of town; must be another telemarketer. For the seventh time in a row I hit the "Do not call" button on the keypad. I set it down on the night stand and rolled to the edge of my bed and swung my legs over the side.
After tidying up the wound, I walked over to my parents' room to tell them of my misgivings. I knew my mother wouldn't be there because she was on a business trip. My father, Herald, was laying there with his trademark fan right by his face. He was a marketing representative for a well known pen making company. His large bushy mustache and eye brows fluttered about his face in the power of the fan. He snored so loudly, my friends told me that when the bike by my house at night, they would think it was haunted by a ghost.Near the foot of the bed, I could see our large , old German Shepard named Billy when I had opened the door, Billy had sat up from his guard post and looked at me. I scratched him behind the ear where he can never reach. He laid down with a slight grumble.
"Dad, are you awake? I hurt myself!", I whispered to him.
I tried a few more times to wake him up and the third worked. "What! I was having a dream about butterflies!"
"Dad, look at my face!" I said in the loudest whisper I could.
He sat up part way and pulled the cord to turn on his lamp on his bedside table.
YOU ARE READING
Player 2
SpiritualThis book is an entising thriller about a game. This is about a real world interactive game that has a secretive purpose. Our protagonist, Cairo, is a normal person living in Flagstaff Arizona. He can see from a young age that something is, well...
