Chapter 1: Games at Midnight pg. 1

Games at Midnight

It was killing her.

The waiting, that is.

Sleep seemed to seep into her arms, into her legs, into her chest and even into her face. Even her hair felt tired. But her eyes, her large eyes bored into the ceiling just daring it to shift, to take a shape, or maybe change colors. Anything would do.

It was just that the waiting was killing her.

She waited for something - anything - to catch her eye. Something that would let her imagination run wild. 

But instead, everything was dead silent. Everything was asleep.

Everything but her.

And nothing was going to wake up any time soon.

Finally, with one extraordinarily powerful blow with her leg (which was actually little more than a few awkward kicks), the heavy muted blue sheets flew off of her small frame, and the cold air swallowed up all of the heat that was still resting comfortably on her skin. 

The regret hit her quickly, and she almost reached for the same sheets she rebelled against because at least they were warm. But with determination, she sat up. Independence was a cold freedom. 

Her feet touched the ground and a sharp cold sting stabbed her skin, making her immediately retract. Not willing to accept a cold toed fate, she flailed her small legs around until she finally made contact with her long forgotten slippers. 

In the end, she proudly shuffled around her room with some bleak white slippers that looked like something her great grandmother would have thought was "bold."

No toy took her interest - or at least, not immediately. All of her toys were boringly gray, and all of her stuffed animals seemed to have an eerie gleam in their button eyes that kept Sarah at a distance. 

It took Sarah a moment to look while the candles flickered. But soon enough, her eyes set on her prize. A sudden incredible amount of focus lit up those dark orbs, and a mischievous smile crossed over her lips.

She decided on a full frontal attack, charging forwards soundlessly on the mute floorboards. It seemed her boldness gave her good fortune, because after a dive into her pillow fort, Alice rested in her tight grip.

Sarah's hair pooled around them like black ink. The little girl pulled up her beloved doll above her head and into the moonlight.

"Seems like it's just you and me again, Alice."

Alice also had an eerie gleam in her black button eyes. Sarah's smile turned into a deep frown. All of her toys were being awfully creepy.

She didn't like it. 

Alice was little more than a worn out piece of fabric at this point. But anyone who dared take it away from Sarah faced either death or a lot of screaming. Because in the end, Alice was completely unique from every other toy that every other child had. Because Alice was home-made by her grandmother. 

Well, her nicer grandmother anyways.

The one that tried to buy her pink slippers. Not white ones.

Sarah's arms dropped like gravity increased, and both of them stared up at the ceiling. One day Sarah would catch it doing something. There has to be a surprise somewhere. Not everything can be as bleak and gray and boring as it seems, right?

But nothing answered her. Nothing changed. 

A little weight settled onto her chest and sunk into her ribs. Of course nothing would change. When was life ever like what you wanted it to be?

She flopped on her side and pressed Alice close to her chest. Sleep took her, silent and dreamless. The grandfather clock chimed. In the end, nothing changed. 

Again. 

Author's Note

I am so embarrassed, I thought I saved this as a draft and I didn't realized I published it. It wasn't ready!!!

Reviews

[Casey Canon]

I would take out the second "It was killing her" to eliminate mistaking it as a typo and redundancy. Still very good start! "Sunk" later on could also be changed to something more indicating a sudden feeling rather than it sounding like the sensation was sluggish. Overall very spooky and very nice!