"One, two, three . . ."
Dan doesn't wait to hear the rest. He runs, his legs pumping, feet pounding noisily on the hardwood floor. Go. He thinks. Go, go, go! He'd already seen the perfect hiding spot, last round, when it was his turn to count.
If he could just make it there on time . . .
He pushes himself to go faster, slamming his feet against the floor and picking them up with unequaled urgency. He turns the corner, ever mindful of the delicate vases that line the walls. The blue and gold of the hallway walls flashes past as he dashes madly through.
Go, go, go! He inwardly screams, smiling to himself as he realizes he sounds a lot like his Little League baseball coach.
He turns another corner and bolts for the staircase. He reaches it, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. Now would not be the time to come down with an asthma attack. Breathe. Breathe. He tells himself, trying to keep his lungs full of air.
And then he's off again, taking the stairs two at a time, trying to maintain his balance while keeping up his Olympic speed.
Within his infantile imagination, he can see it all: the fans screaming, the glammer, the glory, the announcer's voice, "And Dan Cahill is first, coming down the track with amazing speed! Give him a cheer folks, we've found our winner!"
Dan smiles as he runs and then grabs the railing as all of a sudden he pitches forward, losing his balance. He pauses, straightens up and continues on.
He reaches the bottom and swivels on his heel, glancing around him to make sure that no one is there. Grace was such a cheater. It would be so like Amy to go find Grace and say, "Do you know where Dan's hiding?"
Thankfully, no one's there, so he turns to the right and sprints through the hall, thankful for the carpet that muffles his footfalls.
He reaches the laundry room and turns in, a tiny smile flashing across his childish face as he creeps across the room, checking for others who might possibly see him.
He doesn't see anyone. Smiling to himself, he walks across the tile floor to a large basket filled with clothes.
A smirk crosses his face as he dumps the laundry out and slides, knees to his chest. It's a perfect fit.
He stands up and grabs a armful of the dirty clothes and gets back in, somehow managing to cover himself with the dirty pants and shirts.
He closes his eyes and waits. She'll never find me here. He thinks, laughing to himself.
"Ninety-nine, one hundred, ready or not guys, here I come!"
He keeps his eyes shut and concentrates on getting enough air in the stuffy basket.
He hears Amy come clomping down the stairs, muttering to herself.
This is going to be good, he thinks, shivering in excitement. I'll be stuck here for forever and no one will ever find me! I'll be the winner!
He hears Amy come running down the hall and his heart beat picks up, and suddenly, he has the strongest urge to pee. Like every time he plays hide-and-seek.
Not now. He groans, silent despite his childish annoyance. I'm going to here for a while, because this spot is perfect!
And then the garments covering him are rudely ripped off his head. Dan swivels his head upwards and stares into Amy's grinning face.
"You dweeb!" She says, laughing her head off like the total maniac she is. "The laundry basket is see-through!"
:DDDDDDD Whadya think?
This is based off a writing prompt IBATIL showed me. It was the only one that really stuck with me, lol.
Thanks for reading guys,
Addict (the craziest gurl in the fandom)