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by Hey lookie here, it's a story!
Verge walked down that same sleazy alley that she did every day. More like every night. The two brick buildings that rose up like waves next to her were almost as black as the sky, save the few lights that looked like stars. She was all alone, just as she was yesterday and the days preceding. Only, she didn't feel so alone. Maybe it was just her paranoia, and the fact that she seemed to be the following subject lately with everybody, she felt that she needed to run.
As she ran, she heard the footsteps for the first time. Running harder, she noticed that the buildings never seemed to end. The alley wasn't growing any smaller like it should be. It wasn't coming to an end. Like a train tunnel going for miles and miles and miles.
She woke up with a jolt, a scream coming from her throat and nesting in her mouth, making itself comfortable. Verge stared at her solitary reflection in her mirror, hoping to God that it was just a nightmare. And, of course, it was. Her sheets were tangled around her body, and she could barely get untangled. She finally was able to unravel her blanket coccoon, after which she layed back and stared at the ceiling. Though, the ceiling was so much more boring than the real sky, though she wasn't about to go out into the inky blackness of the night at 2 in the morning on a December day. Especially after that nightmare.
Soon, she concluded that if she was going to stay up all night just sweating out her fear, she might as well do so sleeping. Turning over, facing the wall, she drifted off, the soft ticking of the clock and the purring of her cat Screech lulled her into a trance. Not quite asleep... not quite awake. Awake enough to hear everything around her, asleep enough to store energy. Just how she liked it.
The day dawned cloudy and cold. The trees' branches outside of Verge's window reached up like knarly and knotted arms, as if saying "I will escape to the stars... I will..." With the last remnants of her sleep-like trance, Verge woke up. Screech was elsewhere, but her faithful clock ticked away just like it should. Slowly, carefully, she rolled to the side of her bed, swung her legs around, and stood up. She hoped that the nightmare was just a result of her paranoia, and not a premonition. She was quite famous for her premonitions, backwards as they were. She may see herself getting chased by a homocidal maniac and then someone she knew, but wasn't close to, would die.
Or if she saw herself killing someone.
No, that couldn't be a 'premonition' per say. Just another one of her nightmares when she actually hit the REM stage of sleep. Which was hardly ever. And besides, her premonitions were backwards. That probably was just a signal for another murder in the Murder Capital of the World... Washington D.C. Yes she lived in the capital of the United States of America. And she refused to go out at night to walk around normally. But, in December, it got dark at 4:00, and she left her school at 4:30 normally.
Too bad she hated the dark.
Just like she hated her house.
The old insane asylum.
Too bad she was a reincarnated patient.
Too bad she lived in the same room as she did as a patient.
And she was crazy.
She stared at her mirror, and saw other faces as well. She was never cured, only killed.
Verge walked down that same sleazy alley that she did every day. More like every night. The two brick buildings that rose up like waves next to her were almost as black as the sky, save the few lights that looked like stars. She was all alone, just as she was yesterday and the days preceding. Only, she didn't feel so alone. Maybe it was just her paranoia, and the fact that she seemed to be the following subject lately with everybody, she felt that she needed to run.
As she ran, she heard the footsteps for the first time. Running harder, she noticed that the buildings never seemed to end. The alley wasn't growing any smaller like it should be. It wasn't coming to an end. Like a train tunnel going for miles and miles and miles.
She woke up with a jolt, a scream coming from her throat and nesting in her mouth, making itself comfortable. Verge stared at her solitary reflection in her mirror, hoping to God that it was just a nightmare. And, of course, it was. Her sheets were tangled around her body, and she could barely get untangled. She finally was able to unravel her blanket coccoon, after which she layed back and stared at the ceiling. Though, the ceiling was so much more boring than the real sky, though she wasn't about to go out into the inky blackness of the night at 2 in the morning on a December day. Especially after that nightmare.
Soon, she concluded that if she was going to stay up all night just sweating out her fear, she might as well do so sleeping. Turning over, facing the wall, she drifted off, the soft ticking of the clock and the purring of her cat Screech lulled her into a trance. Not quite asleep... not quite awake. Awake enough to hear everything around her, asleep enough to store energy. Just how she liked it.
The day dawned cloudy and cold. The trees' branches outside of Verge's window reached up like knarly and knotted arms, as if saying "I will escape to the stars... I will..." With the last remnants of her sleep-like trance, Verge woke up. Screech was elsewhere, but her faithful clock ticked away just like it should. Slowly, carefully, she rolled to the side of her bed, swung her legs around, and stood up. She hoped that the nightmare was just a result of her paranoia, and not a premonition. She was quite famous for her premonitions, backwards as they were. She may see herself getting chased by a homocidal maniac and then someone she knew, but wasn't close to, would die.
Or if she saw herself killing someone.
No, that couldn't be a 'premonition' per say. Just another one of her nightmares when she actually hit the REM stage of sleep. Which was hardly ever. And besides, her premonitions were backwards. That probably was just a signal for another murder in the Murder Capital of the World... Washington D.C. Yes she lived in the capital of the United States of America. And she refused to go out at night to walk around normally. But, in December, it got dark at 4:00, and she left her school at 4:30 normally.
Too bad she hated the dark.
Just like she hated her house.
The old insane asylum.
Too bad she was a reincarnated patient.
Too bad she lived in the same room as she did as a patient.
And she was crazy.
She stared at her mirror, and saw other faces as well. She was never cured, only killed.
