I'm usually not one to write but...I don't know I guess I just had an idea for a story that might be good if I continued it. Right now the one below is still being worked on theres some parts that still don't sound right or are missing something. I also really shouldn't say "stories" because truly this is my only one. Anyway, just thought I'd share it. Any ideas for how to take the plot further would be greatly appreciated. Here it goes:
My over-active imagination was running away with me again. I've woken up twice in the last hour to something...I can't explain the sound. I just want to sleep until morning and have been doing my best to ignore it, but it just keeps getting louder. Alright, thats it. I shoved off the covers and expertly dodged the piles of clothes that seem to grow bigger over night, to the door. Slowly, I turned the knob. It creaked. I breathed sharply through my teeth hoping nobody heard. Then again, who couldn't hear whatever that racket is?
I nudged open the door and slipped into the hallway. It was dark but I wouldn't dare risk turning on the light. Luckily, the big bay window downstairs cast a light over the steps. Jeez, I never knew a house could have so many things that creaked. So I took the stairs two at a time to just cut down on noise. From where I stood, at the base of the stairs, It sounded like the noise was coming from the kitchen, though it was muffled.
As I walked into the kitchen, I looked around. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Plates are still stacked up in the sink, waiting to be cleaned. The trash still needs taken out, but what's that sound? Wait, the trash...oops. I don't want that to still be here when Dad wakes up. I was supposed to take it out after dinner, well guess I'll take it out now...
I bent down and jerked up the bag. It seemed heavier than normal but I didn't take that into mind. We did have a big dinner that night. I opened the back door to the night. The air was crisp and cool. It was the middle of fall and already it gets to be almost freezing at night. I shivered then walked quickly down the steps and down the sidewalk, careful to not let the bag scrape the ground.
Heaving the heavy bag in the trash can, I looked around. It's been awhile since I've been up this late. I'm glad I'm usually not, it's eerie out here. Everything is quiet, there's not a person in sight, the road seems to just go on into the darkness. What makes it especially creepy though is that now that same sound is coming from the trash can in front of me.
I just stood and stared. I have to see what it is. What if it is something alive and it needs help? Shakily I reached out and pulled off the lid. It fell to the ground with a loud clang, but I don't care. Now my curiosity was over coming the fear. Slowly, I reached up, untied the bag and looked inside.
Then woke up.
I reached down and unplugged my blaring alarm clock, not trying to even look for the button that would shut it up. Groggily, sitting up, I remembered the dream. I've been having weird dreams like that. Ever since we moved into our new...well new to us, but still old house. So I tried not to give it much thought.
As I lumbered out of bed I could smell the aroma of breakfast come from the kitchen. I was hungry and the smell didn't help me whatsoever. I quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and the shirt I wore yesterday, then rushed out of my room, glancing at the mirror in the hall. Staring back at me was a kid who looked like he hadn't slept in years. My black hair was out in every direction and I had a looked like I was about to fall asleep right then and there. Well, good thing it's a Saturday!
I was just starting to turn around to head downstairs when I saw my dad at the bottom of the steps holding a trash bag. "Crud", I said under my breath. I guess my dream was right...
Silently I walked down the stairs. He didn't have to say a word. I took the bag out of his hands and headed out back. Lifting up the lid to the trash can I remembered my dream. What was in that bag?
I looked around quickly. No one in sight. I undid the strings and looked inside the dark bag. Nothing but trash.
Sigh. I almost wished there was something in there. Just to add some excitement to my week. With a dad being an ex-NAVY Sgt. He liked to keep everything on schedule and organized. for him everyday was nearly the same.
Me? I'm anything but organized. Him being like that bugged me. I like change once in a while. Not just the same humdrum stuff everyday. But I'm used to it.
"Matt?"-I nearly knocked over the trash can. "Are you OK?" My sister was standing beside me with a curious look on her face. I hadn't realized I had my head still in the trash bag for nearly five minutes. "Yeah, I'm fine."
She still had that weird look, " Why did you have your head in the trash?"
"I...uh...how 'bout you go inside and get some breakfast?" She didn't say anything. She just slowly turned around, still confused. For once she didn't keep asking me. Normally, If she asked something she wouldn't shut up until she got an answer.
I shook my head. Why do I always do that? I get thinking about something and then sort of zone off. It's embarrassing sometimes, like just now. "Matt, get in here!" Bah, I did it again.
I ran inside.
It looked like I missed breakfast. All the plates were put up besides mine. I sighed, and then threw my plate in the microwave. â Hey, Trash Sniffer!â I turned around , my younger brother Aaron was looking up at me grinning. â What were you doing in the trash?â
â I wasâ¦umâ¦thinking.â âIn the trash?â
âYou wonât leave until you get an answer, will you?â He just stood there, still grinning. â Fine, I was daydreaming again about a dream I had.â I glanced at him. He now had a more serious look. â You said you didnât have those dreams anymore.â Then I realized I shouldnât have said that. Remembering how when I first told him about the weird dreams and how they about scared him to death. He would wake up every morning worrying about if I had a bad dream. I ended up lying to him that I didnât have those dreams and that he helped make them go away. Now, I could tell he was already starting to worry. I quickly said, â No, no, not one of those dreams. It was a nice one and I was just trying to remember it. âReally?â He said glancing up at me. I nodded. âOk, I just didnât want you to have bad dreams again.â And with that he turned and walked away.
Crazy 6 year olds.