The sunlight crawls through the window and peels open my eyes. Still the warm blankets chain me to this bed. It's only been three days but each day lingers, feeling like three years. Every day I got up and checked the locks on the doors downstairs, never opening them. Then I go back upstairs and check my phone. Then its back downstairs to eat some of what little food I brought with me. Then back upstairs to check my phone. I unlock my phone and open my messages. I read my text with Ricky. There weren't ever any fights, never any arguments. Our relationship was rare, we didn't always understand each other but there was enough love to overrule that. I did this routinely. Boring my heart every time I open my phone. But I continued to open it every day. I can't tell you why.
When night falls and the lanterns arrive is when I feel most alone. They're unable to come inside so I'm safe but still, they know I'm here. They prance around the ware house, singing its song of death. Tempting me to open up the doors and let them in. serving them a sad little girl as a meal. But the thought of going home one day keeps the doors locked and frankly, keeps me sane.
I've been awake for over an hour but still I feel paralyzed. Unsure of what do, or why to do it. I roll over to my side and pick up my phone off my makeshift night table. It feels as if it weighs 30 pounds but I still manage to unlock it. Without thinking I hopelessly dial Ricky's number. It rings, and rings, and rings. I slowly bring my other hand over to hang up but then I hear a voice
YOU ARE READING
The Where House
Science FictionThey come out at night, hungry for the young ones. So as president he could only think of thing to do. Get rid of the young ones...
