In the nightmare: Blake

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          The cottage was quite small compared to their last home.  It was a three bedroom house out in the woods not far from town.  Windows were cloudy, and the doors were splintering.  Though Blake felt uncomfortable in her new home her mother and little brother James were seemingly happy to be there. Blake was an average 14 year old girl who loved her short auburn hair.  Her brother was five and danced as a little rascal around the cottage when they arrived.

        

          On night one Blake awoke to the slight sound of tapping.  The sound seemed to come from within the walls of the home.  She thought nothing of it and fell back asleep.  Startled Blake found her door open at 4:17 in the morning only to find a little silhouette standing there.  She jumped up to realize it was her brother holding his favorite stuffed toy.  His toy was a teddy bear and was creepy.  It wore a tuxedo top and not the bottoms, yet it's fur was so life like I wonder how he loves it so much.

          "What's wrong little guy?  Is there something you need?"

         "I had a nightmare and mommy won't wake up, so can I pwease sleep with you sissy."

         "Come here you."

         And with that he hopped up unto my bed sending a cloud of dust into the air.  "So you wanna tell me what happened in your dream?"  I say as playfully as possible.

         "Well there was this guy who came in my room and... he knocked on the wall that was connected to your bedroom.  I stayed under the covers and as still as possible and then he left.  In my dream I fwell asleep then I woke up for real and came over here because I was scared."

          Then all of a sudden realization hit me like a bomb to my face, was he actually dreaming or was that the noise I heard earlier.  It couldn't be it was probably some stupid mouse crawling around.  But the thought stuck with me as James curled up into a ball and layed next to me.  I covered us up for the wind was howling.  I soon fell asleep thinking of the situation no more.

         

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