Day 4

Day 4: Write A Story Inspired By A Dream You've Had. (I've had this reacquiring dream for years.)

WORD COUNT: 479

We were never friends, but I could have fallen in a deep love, in a heartbeat. His smile was dazzling and he went to the University. He visited his aging parents on the weekends at a farm near my grandmother's house. Yes, Quinton was a charmer. Although, I never knew what he majored in.

And then one night, I awoke and he was at the screen door. Perhaps, it was early morning. My grandmother wasn't home. It was strange to see him there so early, but the sun illuminated his presences. His smile, not quite right.

I looked to see if the screen door was latched. It wasn't. Before I could shut the door, he was already in the livingroom. And the butcher knife flashed before him. He held it in his fist as if the knife was his friend, but I wasn't.

"I'm here to get you." His teeth shown, "Don't you want to play?"

 Maybe he was a vampire, but I didn't wait to find out, I ran, breathless toward the dining room. Somehow, the dinning room was much longer than I ever imagined. Yet, I was almost in his grasp.

I almost made it to the backdoor, but the knife came over me when he grabbed me from behind. He held the knife to my throat. "Isn't it fun?" He taunted, but I could hardly breathe, as I wondered how many minutes of my life were left. Finally, he put me down as if someone took over his body.

"I was only playing." He smiled with satisfaction, as if I better pay attention.

Next time, I thought for sure I'd been mistaken by his presence before. Although, his smile said it all. "I've come to take you out."

"What?" I was shocked. Still not sure to let him in. There was the fat butcher knife in his hand, as if he might have brought me a bouquet of flowers this time. from behind his back.. NOT. He brought it over my head this time.

I fought. Holding back the knife as much as I could in our passionate struggle. Still, the knife found my chest. I winced until I could think no more. It seemed my screams could never be heard.

Finally, he looked at me as if to wake me up from this tragedy. "Maybe, you'll do better in the future." Quinton looked doubtful as he let me go.

Naturally, I wasn't exactly ready for him, the next time. But there he was waiting for me. Only, not for long. My footing was better this time. I knew exactly where the butcher knife was kept in the kitchen.

Except, the drawer was stuck and when I did open it, the knives pricked my finger. Even in blood, I knew what I had to do.

Yes, it was I who had the knife this time.