Miss Jackson

Inspired by Miss Jackson by Panic! At the Disco. Warning: blood. Lots of it.

MISS JACKSON

She slipped out the back door, her dark hair falling into her face a she turned to make sure no one was following her. The house was silent, and Missy allowed a smile to steal across her lips.

The door clicked shut, and the nightgown-clad figure disappeared through the neighborhood.

**********************

He awoke in a cold sweat. What was that noise? His imagination surely couldn’t up with something so sinister, unless his subconscious was seriously messed-up

He crawled out of bed, noticing in an instant that she was gone. Maybe she just went to get a drink. He thought. That’s what he heard, just her.

Still, he had better check on Jackson.

The door to his son’s room was open. He paused at that. Jackson liked the door closed, he said it helped him sleep better.

He shook his head. It was probably nothing. What could happen to him in a locked house?

He found out very quickly.

Jackson had never left his bed, that was for certain. The nine-year-old lay tangled in his sheets, as though he’d been having a nightmare. He wasn’t dreaming anymore, though.

Blood.

So much blood.

It filled his vision, painted on the sheets, the walls, his son’s perfect face.

He stumbled against the door, pressing his hands to his eyes. This wasn’t true - he was dreaming. Wake up! he shouted at himself, Wake! Up!

It wasn’t a dream.

Author's Note

Shamelessly slipping the song title in in the form of names.

What do you think? I know it's a bit creepy, but have you HEARD the song?