I love waking up in a smelly, old, abandoned GoodWill, don't you?
I looked around for my attacker, but it was all so quiet, so gray. No light to be seen, even the windows were covered. This isn't good. I was supposed to me meeting Mr. McHotty tonight! But no! Some jerkwad had to knock me out cold in the middle of a sketchy alleyway! Now that I think about it. This might be my fault. Why did I walk down that sketchy alleyway? There were so many other sketchy alleyways I could have walked down!
Doubting myself is NOT something I should do. "This is bogus," I state.
"Bogus is dead language," a muffled voice responses.
"No, you're a dead language, wait..." I shake my head. Why do I do these things to myself.
The muffled voice never showed itself, but kept on speaking.
"Allow me to clarify, bogus WILL be apart of a dead language, soon." It was a man talking, I see shadows shift across the wall.
"What do you mean?" I ask, the 'clarrification' never helped.
"Death. Mrs. Claire, death to your friends," I feel a cold wind on the back of my neck, "to your family," I shudder, "even to your little pets, whatever they may be."
The vagueness makes me sick. My face flushes into a sick white. What is he talking about?
YOU ARE READING
Guide to Stopping a Modern-Day Plague
Science FictionAs a college girl with a basketball scholarship, Cameron was a star athlete. She had great potential, but a strange encounter with a strange man changed her future. He told her things, things of death and sickness, and it was her job to stop it. Thi...
