Looking out into the dark, I scream, I talk, I whisper, I cry. I do it all the time, everyday, every week, every month, every year. Sometimes it answers back one at a time, twice at a time, three at a time, four at a time. One night, I whisper to the dark a secret, something I have never told anyone and this time, the dark didn't answer back.
I try again the next night and I tell a story, once again it never replies. I'm getting scared, this has never happened before. What happened to the voice in the dark. Now the dark doesn't seem as friendly anymore but I'll keep whispering, talking, screaming, crying until it replies and when it does, that's when I'll be free.
I'm the monster stuck under the bed, stuck in your closet, stuck in your mirror and all I want is someone to talk to. So I'll wait for my friend in the dark, even if it takes years for a reply.
YOU ARE READING
Random stories I make in my mind
Short StoryThis book thingy is just a bunch of story's I make in my weird head and no one will read this so whyyy not yaaaaaaaaaaay I was bored, actual front picture will becoming soon maybe
