Friday, November 01, 2013

Horror Story # 2: What are You Doing, Little Girl?

**This is Part Two of my Two Horror Stories post. Having said that, you guys enjoy the scariest night, or nights, of the year. Enjoy it for me as I will be engaged to my kinky night job on All Hallows Eve and Halloween, respectively. What can I say? A grown girl's gotta do what a grown girl's gotta do. 

Awww, fuck it. I'm working on Halloween. You. Lucky. Bastards get your overflowing fill of horror movie marathons, and drinking on the graves of your loved ones, a long weekend, and getting paid days off. And what do I have? Taxable holiday premium, that's what I have. Thirty two percent of which goes to the most hopeless government in this side of the third world. Shit. Shiiitt!

I never saw her again, but I wished she paid another visit. I can use her smiling presence. 

The first time I saw her was in 2010. I remember it well because it was then that I broke up with my partner of five years. Actually, it was a few months after we broke up; I was no longer a mess, and I have been sleeping longer hours then. Anyway, this happened in the early hours of the morning. I remember that, too, because I was sleeping nights in those days. I was roused from the usual suspended state by nothing suspicious in particular. I just woke up. 

And there she was at the foot of my bed. The lights were off, but the large windows behind her allowed some moonlight to reveal her form. She appeared to be a little girl, a little over three feet, maybe four, and she had straight hair that framed her face down to her shoulders. I remember nothing of what she wore, or if she moved, or if she whispered. She was just there, at the foot of my bed, in what can be three in the morning. 

But I remember this one detail very well -- she was smiling at me. Again, the spare moonlight missed her face, but her presence was as happy as it was sudden. There was nothing scary or threatening about this strange little girl in my room at three in the morning. I remember she was small, and she had straight hair, and that she had the happiest presence for something that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place.

I was lying still. She was not moving. Has it been a minute now? I don't know, but I decided to sit up and maybe take a closer look. At that very moment of movement, my little angel then crawled down the foot of my bed, where I cannot see her, like she was inviting a game of hide and seek. I did not expect that. The cat I was still living in with, Prince, was huddled to my right in a careless ball. He was sleeping. I did not expect that, as well. He's supposed to be sensitive!

Her sudden movement down the foot of my bed did not discourage my investigation. I was curious as to what I was supposed to be seeing next. Will she be kneeling down? Will she be looking up at me this time? Will she laugh or snicker or whisper something? What is she up to? And so I followed her down the foot of my bed where it was empty except for my well-used slippers. 

And, aside from the movement from my years-old stand fan, it was silent. 

I looked back to where Prince was. He was awake. Not a miao or a flick of his tail issued from that cat. He was standing up and looking at me, and I felt he was irritated that he had to wake up to me looking stupid down at whatever. And if I remember it right, the words "Human, please" registered well at his face. I don't care. For some reason, my little angel's balming presence kept me happy that morning. 

I never saw her again. But I'm looking forward to it. 


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