The Worst Part Is Always At The End
My dream
It was all over the news.
There was a killer on the loose. No one knew who it was though. The killer had broken into many buildings and homes and scared everyone: children, men, women, anybody. You couldn't even be left alone. You had to be careful about who to trust and talk to. No one would even leave their homes, not to get food or even get the mail. The police could never catch this killer. The killer always got away, leaving nothing behind but the bodies. There was no evidence, no suspects, not a clue of who this could be.
My mom and I were at home in the kitchen (exactly) and we were talking about this killer. It's all people would talk about even the news casters. All the other bad things going on in the world didn't matter anymore. Peoples' biggest fear was meeting face to face with this killer. While we were talking we heard a noise coming from the second floor. First the floor creaking from footsteps, and then the water running. Fear rapidly fulled my body. I knew it was them. The killer. I quickly grabbed the hot, plugged-in, iron to defend my mom and I.
My mom asked if she really thought we needed that.
I responded by telling her just in case we do.
We both waited in terror. Suddenly we started to hear footsteps were getting louder and louder by the second. I tried to prepare myself for what I was about to meet eyes with.
The first thing I saw was the killers black boot. The killer turned the corner to face us. I got a good look at his face and when I did I realized the killer...
Was my father.
There was a killer on the loose. No one knew who it was though. The killer had broken into many buildings and homes and scared everyone: children, men, women, anybody. You couldn't even be left alone. You had to be careful about who to trust and talk to. No one would even leave their homes, not to get food or even get the mail. The police could never catch this killer. The killer always got away, leaving nothing behind but the bodies. There was no evidence, no suspects, not a clue of who this could be.
My mom and I were at home in the kitchen (exactly) and we were talking about this killer. It's all people would talk about even the news casters. All the other bad things going on in the world didn't matter anymore. Peoples' biggest fear was meeting face to face with this killer. While we were talking we heard a noise coming from the second floor. First the floor creaking from footsteps, and then the water running. Fear rapidly fulled my body. I knew it was them. The killer. I quickly grabbed the hot, plugged-in, iron to defend my mom and I.
My mom asked if she really thought we needed that.
I responded by telling her just in case we do.
We both waited in terror. Suddenly we started to hear footsteps were getting louder and louder by the second. I tried to prepare myself for what I was about to meet eyes with.
The first thing I saw was the killers black boot. The killer turned the corner to face us. I got a good look at his face and when I did I realized the killer...
Was my father.