5TH DECEMBER 2009

The setting this time seems very much like a Cluedo game. It starts off at night, when a few other people whom I don't recognize and myself are standing around in a rather spacious room with a high ceiling. There is a large, round chinese style red carpet in the middle, and a few deep red sofas around the room, with a few artificial potted plants like the ones you see in The Sims 2. The walls are all a dull grey, but nobody seems to take notice of that or any other detail of the room except for myself. The reason behind this becomes clear quite quickly- people are slowly going missing or getting murdered. The latter is by far just an assumption, and a plausible reason given for their dissapearence. Nonetheless, everybody can't help but feel that that is the case here, and in my mind images of blood splattered all over the floor like a can of dropped paint leeches onto my mind and refuses to go away.



As soon as the reason why we have gathered in the large room is solved (or not solved?), everybody disperses back to their own respective rooms. In my case, I belong to one of the few rooms that have more than 2 or 3 people inside. The room looks a lot like a dormitory, long and narrow with a four-pane window at the end. The walls are the same dull grey as the large room, and the floor is dark wooden teak. This room, like all the others, is dark and dim, the only light prevailent just sufficient for clear vision. There are 5 beds in here, all with the same deep red blankets and nightstand. My bed is all the way down the room, right under the windowsill. I sit down on the bed uneasily, scared, but not wanting to show it. Everyone else, too, feels the fear slowly creeping up on them, and thus the whole room is enveloped in a tense silence. Who is going to go missing next? The worst part of it is that the people vanish without so much as a sound, leaving us to find out about their disappearance only when it is too late.



I look at the window, and decide that the best thing to do would be to try and escape from this place. It is a large mansion covered by tall grass that looks menacing, and a long path that stretches out to a field before connecting back to the main road. In short, it looks like one of those houses in the middle of nowhere where people stop for the night in horror movies and end up dying one by one because of some evil force or another.



Just as I'm standing at my nightstand pouring myself a glass of water, a man suddenly charges at me from the 2 beds down, and pins me flat onto the floor. He has a wrench in his hand, but the wrench seems too big to be real, and the ends have sharp blades that make the tool look like a small creature with vicious teeth.



Crap



He chuckles maniacally to himself as he holds my head down by pushing the wrench against my neck, threatening to snap it.



"We don't want any escapees now do we?" , he says, smiling gleefully as though the sight of my struggling to free myself somehow bemuses him. I shake my head violently, trying my best not to scream as a look into at his face. He holds that position for a few more minutes, while the people in the room do nothing but stare or pretend to mind their own business. After what seems to be hours of lying in the same position, he loosens his grip on the wrench, and stands up straight. He curtly dusts his shirt and pants, like how a person would after just finishing a chore that required them to get down onto their knees. Just before he leaves, he takes one more long intended look at me, which sends a shock through my mind that leaves me strangely terrified. The look seems harmless to the world's eyes, but anyone who ends up the target of that look would understand far more. Behind those normal human eyes lies a madman no doubt, one who has lost all reasoning, and who is not afraid to mutilate and decapitate a human just as one would do to a piece of steak during dinner.

I am truly scared.

I awkwardly crawl back to my bed, falling and stumbling as i do so. It takes me an innumerable amount of strength to pull myself back onto the bed, an action that usually only takes no more than a lift of the bum to do the job.(=_=) My hands search around the blanket for my handphone, sweat slides down my face too slow for me to be bothered by it. I find it finally underneath my pillow, and punch in the sequence to bring me to my Message screen. I silently thank this "deathhouse" for at least having the stupidity to forget to cut off reception to the outside world. I quickly punch in a message that screams "distress" and "help" all over (making sure that it does not sound like a prank), and press Send. The screen immediately blinks over to the Recent Numbers page, a page full of people whom I've sent messages to in the past few days. Without thinking, I press OK for the first name I see. I do not even give myself enough time to see who I have sent the message to, but I hope that they will reply soon. I stare back out at the window, pulling the deep red blanket around my tighter than before.

I can feel something staring at me from behind those glass panes, staring at me and my blood-colored blanket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sara is sitting around a coffee shop table with some friends. They are all laughing, and the surroundings are as lively and colorful as a bustling nightlife district in Chinatown. Aromas from massage parlours drift temptingly past the table, while from the other end the smells of local delicacies and slightly more exotic foods waft toward them. Everyone around the table is chatting in mandarin, a warm cup of coffee resting in front of each of them. He laughs at a joke that someone has just made, then picks up his coffee cup by the rounded handle and takes a long gulp. He feels the right pocket of his jeans vibrate, odd since it is already around 2AM in the morning. He puts down his cup back onto the small coffee plate, and reaches for his handphone. Trying to be as discreet as possible, he punches in the sequence to open the message, an action that he has well memorised as has any other teenager his age. He holds the mini electronic device underneath the table away from his friends' view, and peeps down to read the message.

"SARA, I NEED HELP, PLEASE. I HAVE TO HIDE, ARE YOU AT HOME???"

His brows crease in slight confusion. He checks the Sender's number, and realises who it's from. He is about to text a reply message, his thumb hovers above the green button. Instead, his thumb moves to the right, and presses the red button instead. He twirls his phone once, slips it back into his pocket, and smiles at his friend, pretending to have heard whatever joke had just been made. The message could wait, the night was still young.

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well now REALLY....leave me with the mad dude....
its okayyyy sara its not your fault you just appeared like that in the dream...
do you even drink coffee? :3
P.S for that last part i kinda saw it in like third-party view, so it all played out like a movie there instead of first-person haha