what I thought was the beginning..
I lay in bed, conscious but not moving. It's my first night in a new town, but nothing here feels right. My sister, who is dead asleep beside me, is snoring heavily. How could she sleep in a completely different place and still be comfortable enough to rest her eyes? The whole concept of that runs in my mind quite a bit.
I sit up, and glance out of the window. It's a calm, dark night. Although gloomy, dirty alleyways and streets are dangerous, I've always had an interest in it, in my mind it's where I felt at peace. The dampness and atmosphere in them are calming. There's no street lamps in my new neighborhood, and all of the houses look rundown. I wouldn't even feel safe enough to take my own damn trash out in this place.. Suddenly, the peace and silence is interrupted by a loud slam.
"Dad's home.." I say to myself, my tone barely above a whisper.
loud thuds fill the hallway, he's running up here. I shake my sister awake, and without hesitation she gets up after waking quietly, we climb out of bed slowly, creeping towards our closet.
*BAM*
The door swings open, and my father stood in the doorway, he said nothing, just stayed standing there silently. The more I stare at him, the weirder he looks. his limbs are freakishly long now, his knuckles now drag on the floor. A flood of stench fill my nostrils, it smells like he's rotting down to bone. I reach out to my sister who sat beside me, peeking through the crack in the closet door. Her eyes wide, she turns to me, and signs, *that's not dad.*
*creeeak*
The figure dragged itself towards the center of the room. It's chin raised in the air, it sniffs.
The skin around it's neck stretched until it tore apart, it was now staring at us.
