Ok, this was not my idea! But, i like how it turned out so yeah... Damian is really OOC in this haha. read and review! Not planning on going anywhere with this, it was a journal for creative writing.
"Good night, Damian!"
"'Night Richard."
Richard closes my door shutting out all the light coming from the hallway. I hate the dark. I pull my blankets up tight around my chin trying to shield myself from the evils of my room. The floor creaks every now and then. The light on my watch is the only thing keeping me calm. Suddenly, my watch dies. I can't find the button to make it light back up again. Something on my dresser glares at me with its angry red eyes. I stifle a scream. I breathe heavily, but quietly, trying not to alarm the thing on my dresser and make it mad at me. I am going to die. My dresser is alive; I can hear the drawer slipping forward. The red eyes blink. I shrink up as small as I can. The Dresser creaks again. A sound like the Tardis fills my ears. I'm not sure if it's real or not, but one thing is definitely for sure: I am being attacked by aliens impersonating my socks. I can almost see them tumbling from the drawer in an arranged fashion, like an army. The eyes blink again. The floor creaks. Something pounds on my window and screams outside. I can't take it anymore.
"RICHARD!" I scream at the top of my lungs. The thing outside laughs and I pant trying to calm down.
My light flicks on, I yelp just a little.
"Dami, are you okay?"
I take the opportunity of my light being on to survey my room. The monster over my dresser? My alarm clock. The scream outside? Sounds of the city mixed with the fierce wind. And my sock drawer? Closed, completely closed. I know that's not right, there was something there, I'm sure of it. I SAW it.
"I-I'm fine Richard. It was nothing, just the fear gas from earlier tonight." He cocks his head a little looking at me suspiciously. He knows as well as I do that I wasn't anywhere near the gas when it went off. I smile nervously.
"Okay, Dami. I'm going to go now. Goodnight."
"G'night." He closes the door slowly, and flicks the light off. I should lie down. It's late, I need sleep. I have school tomorrow. I don't lie down. I can hear the drawer moving again. I hear the movement of fabric over carpet, socks tripping and falling all over each other. The wind laughs again. I pull my blanket over my face. I feel them fall in piles over my body. They try to crawl under my blankets, surely to kill me. I hear knots tying, they want to strangle me. My blanket is the only thing keeping me alive. I kick trying to hit them off of me. I hear soft splats as they hit the floor. I'm not here; they can't know I'm here. I stay awake for a long time just listening to the sound of knots tying and the snake like sound of them repositioning. I feel my legs being binded to the bed. I can't seem to find my voice. The screams catch in my throat. I can't keep my eyes open. I'm being overrun by fear. My body shuts down. I stop struggling. Sleep over comes me and I don't expect to wake up in the morning.
"Damian!"
I wake up to Richard screaming my name. I open my eyes, my blankets over my head. I try to sit up but I can't move.
"Damian!" He screams again. I try to answer him, let him know I'm ok but all I can manage is a weak, "present."
He claws at the bonds over my body. He tries to keep me talking while he pulls at one over my neck.
"Dami, what happened?"
How do I even explain it?
"My socks attacked me." I say back sort of confused if that's even what's holding me down.
"Right. Can you breathe ok?"
"Fine." He continues to pull at the sock rope.
"These knots are really tight." He mumbles to himself. I hear him open his pocket knife. The socks tighten around my neck.
"I can't breathe."
"Ah, that could be a problem." Richard says, trying hard to keep the fear out of his voice. The socks tighten more. Finally Richard pulls something out of his belt and skillfully cuts one of the socks. I feel the others trying to bond together again, but the pull on my neck is gone. Richard uses this small break to pull the strand off of my bed. He cuts my arms free, the socks tightening in protest the whole time. I think we might have to amputate my legs after, IF we get me out of here.