That One Crazy Summer-Reader X Kylo Ren

The Sublime Galaxy King of the Fifth Order (Or Whatever He Said)

You're laying in your bed, running the events of that evening through your mind. That was one of the strangest encounters you've ever experienced, and you've experienced a lot in your young life.

Why are you still thinking about him? That's not even the right type of question to ask. You should worry about where he came from, where was his car, why was he at a coffee shop at eight-thirty on a Tuesday in this town? Why did he take such an interest in...you?

Sleep isn't coming tonight, you can tell, so you get up and walk into the living room. You pop in your Air Pods and listen to some music while you step outside to sit on your back porch. You have one solitary chair to sit in, so you take a seat and pull your legs up to your chest. You close your eyes and the face of the mystery man is staring back at you. What in the world is wrong with you? He was obviously not from here and was obviously a freak. Almost like a goth but in a weird militaristic way. Yes, you were sure you had never met anyone like him.

You decide you want some tea, so you get up and make your way to your kitchen, Air Pods still playing. One of your favorite songs comes on, and you start to dance. You know you're a horrible dancer, but when you're alone, you like to let loose and pretend you're Jenifer Lopez.

You return to your chair, tea in hand. The sky is clear and you can see the crescent moon shine brightly onto the field. Maybe you can get used to this.

Or maybe not. You step back into the house to your living room, frustrated about mosquitoes, and set your drink down on your end table. Another favorite song—you turn the volume up. Now you're uninhibited as you jump around the living room, no holds barred.

You spin around, stopping suddenly.

Something isn't right. You don't know why, but you feel like you should take out your Air pods, so you do. You set them on the end table and walk slowly through the dark living room, wondering if you should turn on your lamp. Part of you doesn't want to see whatever it is that's making you nervous, so you leave it off. There's the slightest gust of wind, as if someone walked through the room. You crouch down and make your way to the kitchen to find your pitiful knife. That's when you realize you got rid of it. So now you have...a butter knife? That will work for now. You'll either kill the person or butter their bread. You hope it's the latter.

A small noise comes from your bedroom. Now you know you're not imagining things; there's definitely someone in your home. You start to shake, but you don't back down. You've dealt with fear your whole life, and that has made you bolder than most. You grip the butter knife and start walking, still crouched, towards your bedroom. There's only one hall, one bedroom across from another one, so you know the intruder has to be in one of the rooms.

You get to yours and stop. You crouch down on the floor in a shadowy spot, hoping that you're near the correct room. You are certain the noise didn't come from your guest room. There's nothing even in there. You steel yourself, take the quietest deep breath you can, then lunge full force into your bedroom, knife in the air, full Rambo as you confront your intruder.

You didn't notice that you had your eyes closed, so when you never come back down to the floor, you open them and realize you're hovering in the doorway, knife still in position, and you can't move your body. This is obviously a nightmare. This isn't possible, you know, physics and stuff. So you squeeze your eyes shut again, then open them. You're still hovering, and now you see the shape of a person starting to form in the darkness. The shape is large and only seems to grow the closer it comes to you. Now you know you're in trouble.

Words! You can use your words.

"Um, excuse me? Who is there? This is private property," you're not entirely sure why you added that last part other than you're a complete idiot.