Sunday the 11th (First Story)

Sunday January 11, 2009

I have a few furnishings in my small but interesting poster filled room. I have an entertainment stand, two tvs, a dresser, and of course, a bed. I also have an antique chair I bought at a yard sale. I bought this chair for no particular reason except just to own it. That chair is where this story begins. I wake up at exactly 4:23 am every mourning like clock work. I never hear a noise or see anything. I only feel and hear the breeze of my fan, but there is always something that catches my eye, something always moving. Though I only see it for a split second before this thing vanishes into nothing. But on this Sunday something seemed different as I was lying in my small but comfortable bed. I felt as if someone was watching me, boring deep down into my eyes...my mind...my soul.

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Come back and read more in a few days.