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I decided to do some Horror with Samuel Kingsley, who belongs to

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Panting, the child slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it to ensure that no one could get in. All of this, over that stupid mouse? He didn't want to believe it. This couldn't be real. Everything just had to be a dream. A horrible, sick dream brought on because of the horror movies he had watched with his dad. He wasn't in any real danger. He could try to convince himself that much - but that didn't get rid of the fear. Trembling, he backed away from the door. His eyes remained fixated upon the one and only entrance to the bathroom. If that thing was going to come after him, it would have to go through that door. Panic was evident in his every breath. He knew he needed a means of protecting himself. There weren't many things he could use. In the end, desperation drove him to grab his mother's electric hair curler and plug it in.

He knew how hot the hair care item could get. If push came to shove, he would use it to keep the monster away from him. His eyes never left the door as he prepared to be attacked - but the assault he expected never came. Not through the means he had anticipated, anyways. What wound up happening was more of a shock than anything. Something struck him in the side of the head. He didn't understand how the object had done so, but it did. A wooden block collided with his skull just hard enough to cut the side of his head. The corner of the block was just sharp enough to break the skin. What little blood that came from the wound was enough to mat some of his hair, but he had no reason to panic. The bleeding stopped rather fast. Granted, he was a child. No more than five or six years old.

To a boy that age, any blood was something worth panicking over. Especially since the object that had hurt him appeared out of seemingly nowhere to strike him down. He dropped the semi-heated electric hair curler as soon as the block hit him. The initial impact didn't hurt, it just scared the living daylights out of him. When he saw the blood, the pain kicked in and his panic only grew. Tears welled in his eyes and the urge to call out to his parents began to swell. He knew he couldn't call them, though. The thing that was after him, had told him not to. The thing said it would hurt his parents if they tried to get in the way of their game. He didn't want to play anymore - but he didn't have a choice. Had he known what would happen if he killed the mouse, he never would have done it.

He would have fed the nasty little rodent all the cheese that it wanted, if he had know what would happen to him for killing it. Covering the cut on his head with one hand, he shakily picked up the hair curler. Luckily it hadn't been dropped on anything akin to cloth. Otherwise he probably would have started a fire and died before the thing to come and get him. Then his parents really would have gotten hurt. Fire is bad. Fire burns and destroys everything it touches. Even so, he probably would have burned to death if he were given the choice between that and being taken by the thing that was after him. Trembling, he tightened his hold on the hair curler and waited for the door to open. He didn't know whether he expected it to open quietly and on its own, or be knocked down by what was trying to hurt him.

Neither of those things happened. In fact, he was the one who wound up opening the door. When he felt chilled breath on the back of his neck, he didn't bother to turn and look at what was behind him. He just dropped the heated hair curler and bolted out of the bathroom as quickly as he could manage. Had he needed to unlock the door manually, he probably wouldn't have been able too given how shaky his hands were. He could count himself lucky that the door unlocked automatically when he turned the door knob. Otherwise he would have been trapped in the bathroom with that, thing. The instant he left the bathroom, he darted down the hall towards the kitchen. There were a lot of weapons there. Knives, forks, his mother's rolling pin, and who knows what else.

He needed to find something, anything, that he could use as a weapon. He had left the hair curler in the bathroom, so he needed to find another means of defending himself. He tripped over something before he could reach the kitchen. Despite his panic, he took the time to find out what it was. The hallway was always clear so that his parents wouldn't trip if they got up for a midnight snack. The fear grew more intense as he looked at what he had tripped over. Wooden blocks. There was a whole row of them set up in his path. He had stepped on one and lost his footing. His leg hurt from falling on top of them. Did they spell something out? There wasn't enough light in the hall for him to read - and he didn't want to chance getting caught. He left the toys where they were and limped the rest of the way to the kitchen.

The light refused to turn on when he flipped the switch. Did the thing mess with the power? No. He learned the reality of the broken lights the hard way when he stepped further into the kitchen. There was broken glass all over the floor. The thing had somehow pulled them all out of their sockets and smashed them without waking anyone up. How come his parent's hadn't gotten up to inspect all the noise? Maybe the medicine they took for their headaches was keeping them asleep? He didn't know - but he still expected his parents to come and find him when he screamed. The glass cut into his feet - it hurt so much he couldn't keep quiet. That became even more so when he fell down. The shock of the broken glass cutting him was more than enough to make him jump.

His legs buckled and he fell onto the glass. Shards of the shattered light bulbs dug into his legs and the palms of his hands. There was no way he could hold a knife now. He couldn't even bend his fingers without pushing the glass deeper into his skin. What was worse was the mistake he made while sobbing. He tried to wipe his eyes, and the glass embedded in his skin cut his cheeks and near his eyes. His sobs grew in volume as he tried to push himself off of the glass littered floor. He managed to get up, but walking was near impossible. He had to try and stay on his toes and move without lifting his feet up. He couldn't get more glass in his feet if he didn't step on it, right? That seemed to be the case. He inched his way towards the counters. At that point he didn't even know what he was going to do.

Instinct was what kept him moving. Instinct is what drove him to try and wash the glass out of his hands - and instinct is what pushed him to grab one of the knives out of the drawer. It was a big knife. One of the ones used in all the horror movies. Despite the pain in his hands, he was able to keep a firm grip on the handle. The drive to survive is a powerful thing - it pushes people past the limit and forces them to fight any pain. All in the hopes of making it to see another day. He had to keep a hand on the nearest wall as he struggled to move out of the kitchen. In his hast he flipped another light switch. This time, a light came off. The first switch had been connected to the chandelier - the second connected to a small light near the fridge. The single, unbroken bulb provided just enough light for him to see most of what was in the kitchen.

He didn't like what he saw, but at the same time there was a sense of relief. The glass was only on one side of the kitchen. He had made it far enough in to get away from the shattered bulbs. There was blood smeared all over the floor from his feet. Blood smeared the wall where he had dragged his hand along it. His legs and hands were covered in red smears. The glass had dug in so far in some spots that he wouldn't be able to pull it out without tweezers. His already pale face seemed to turn to paper when he looked at the knife he clutched in his hand. The reflection he saw, didn't belong to him. It belonged to what was trying - or rather, succeeding, in hurting him. A scream caught in his throat as he dropped the knife. How had that thing managed to get in the knife?

The reflection showed the whole body, not just the face. The angry, malicious eyes and a smile so dark it was as if it came directly from the horror movies. In his haste to back away, he stumbled over his own feet and fell backwards. Right onto yet another wooden block. This one hit him square in the back. The pain that hit him was so intense that he could not get up. There wasn't a spot on his body that didn't hurt. He couldn't scream - he couldn't even breathe. His first and only attempt at getting up, shocked him to the point of freezing. The fridge. The door of the fridge was so much like a mirror, but again, the reflection he spotted was not his own. The thing was standing in the door of the fridge, looking at him. He tried to move, tried to scream - but it was as if he was frozen.

He stopped breathing when he locked eyes with the thing in the fridge - only to take in a painful breath when it vanished. Granted, it didn't go away without saying something to him. The voice it used was so quiet that no one would have been able to hear it, but he did. "Found you". That was what the green eyed, yellow haired monster said to him before it left. Then he was yanked off of the ground before he could take his second breath. Out of instinct he screamed and thrashed. He thought that it had come out of the fridge and grabbed him. That wasn't what happened, though. The thing disappeared just before his parents could appear to save him. When they saw the knife, the broken glass, and their bleeding son they panicked and grabbed him.

After that he wasn't really conscious enough to know what happened. He remembered his parents screaming and holding him, then he seemed to blank out until he found himself sitting in a hospital bed. His parents spoke to someone outside the door, before a doctor came in and told him that he needed to stay for a few days. There were bandages all over him, and the doctor explained that they had needed to make him to to sleep when they removed the glass. After that, the doctor walked out of the room to speak with his parents some more. For a moment, he thought that he would be alright. He thought that the nightmare was over, and that he wouldn't be hurt more. Then he saw the blonde, green eyed boy smiling at him from inside the window.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

I decided to do some Horror with Samuel Kingsley, who belongs to

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

Panting, the child slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it to ensure that no one could get in. All of this, over that stupid mouse? He didn't want to believe it. This couldn't be real. Everything just had to be a dream. A horrible, sick dream brought on because of the horror movies he had watched with his dad. He wasn't in any real danger. He could try to convince himself that much - but that didn't get rid of the fear. Trembling, he backed away from the door. His eyes remained fixated upon the one and only entrance to the bathroom. If that thing was going to come after him, it would have to go through that door. Panic was evident in his every breath. He knew he needed a means of protecting himself. There weren't many things he could use. In the end, desperation drove him to grab his mother's electric hair curler and plug it in.

He knew how hot the hair care item could get. If push came to shove, he would use it to keep the monster away from him. His eyes never left the door as he prepared to be attacked - but the assault he expected never came. Not through the means he had anticipated, anyways. What wound up happening was more of a shock than anything. Something struck him in the side of the head. He didn't understand how the object had done so, but it did. A wooden block collided with his skull just hard enough to cut the side of his head. The corner of the block was just sharp enough to break the skin. What little blood that came from the wound was enough to mat some of his hair, but he had no reason to panic. The bleeding stopped rather fast. Granted, he was a child. No more than five or six years old.

To a boy that age, any blood was something worth panicking over. Especially since the object that had hurt him appeared out of seemingly nowhere to strike him down. He dropped the semi-heated electric hair curler as soon as the block hit him. The initial impact didn't hurt, it just scared the living daylights out of him. When he saw the blood, the pain kicked in and his panic only grew. Tears welled in his eyes and the urge to call out to his parents began to swell. He knew he couldn't call them, though. The thing that was after him, had told him not to. The thing said it would hurt his parents if they tried to get in the way of their game. He didn't want to play anymore - but he didn't have a choice. Had he known what would happen if he killed the mouse, he never would have done it.

He would have fed the nasty little rodent all the cheese that it wanted, if he had know what would happen to him for killing it. Covering the cut on his head with one hand, he shakily picked up the hair curler. Luckily it hadn't been dropped on anything akin to cloth. Otherwise he probably would have started a fire and died before the thing to come and get him. Then his parents really would have gotten hurt. Fire is bad. Fire burns and destroys everything it touches. Even so, he probably would have burned to death if he were given the choice between that and being taken by the thing that was after him. Trembling, he tightened his hold on the hair curler and waited for the door to open. He didn't know whether he expected it to open quietly and on its own, or be knocked down by what was trying to hurt him.

Neither of those things happened. In fact, he was the one who wound up opening the door. When he felt chilled breath on the back of his neck, he didn't bother to turn and look at what was behind him. He just dropped the heated hair curler and bolted out of the bathroom as quickly as he could manage. Had he needed to unlock the door manually, he probably wouldn't have been able too given how shaky his hands were. He could count himself lucky that the door unlocked automatically when he turned the door knob. Otherwise he would have been trapped in the bathroom with that, thing. The instant he left the bathroom, he darted down the hall towards the kitchen. There were a lot of weapons there. Knives, forks, his mother's rolling pin, and who knows what else.

He needed to find something, anything, that he could use as a weapon. He had left the hair curler in the bathroom, so he needed to find another means of defending himself. He tripped over something before he could reach the kitchen. Despite his panic, he took the time to find out what it was. The hallway was always clear so that his parents wouldn't trip if they got up for a midnight snack. The fear grew more intense as he looked at what he had tripped over. Wooden blocks. There was a whole row of them set up in his path. He had stepped on one and lost his footing. His leg hurt from falling on top of them. Did they spell something out? There wasn't enough light in the hall for him to read - and he didn't want to chance getting caught. He left the toys where they were and limped the rest of the way to the kitchen.

The light refused to turn on when he flipped the switch. Did the thing mess with the power? No. He learned the reality of the broken lights the hard way when he stepped further into the kitchen. There was broken glass all over the floor. The thing had somehow pulled them all out of their sockets and smashed them without waking anyone up. How come his parent's hadn't gotten up to inspect all the noise? Maybe the medicine they took for their headaches was keeping them asleep? He didn't know - but he still expected his parents to come and find him when he screamed. The glass cut into his feet - it hurt so much he couldn't keep quiet. That became even more so when he fell down. The shock of the broken glass cutting him was more than enough to make him jump.

His legs buckled and he fell onto the glass. Shards of the shattered light bulbs dug into his legs and the palms of his hands. There was no way he could hold a knife now. He couldn't even bend his fingers without pushing the glass deeper into his skin. What was worse was the mistake he made while sobbing. He tried to wipe his eyes, and the glass embedded in his skin cut his cheeks and near his eyes. His sobs grew in volume as he tried to push himself off of the glass littered floor. He managed to get up, but walking was near impossible. He had to try and stay on his toes and move without lifting his feet up. He couldn't get more glass in his feet if he didn't step on it, right? That seemed to be the case. He inched his way towards the counters. At that point he didn't even know what he was going to do.

Instinct was what kept him moving. Instinct is what drove him to try and wash the glass out of his hands - and instinct is what pushed him to grab one of the knives out of the drawer. It was a big knife. One of the ones used in all the horror movies. Despite the pain in his hands, he was able to keep a firm grip on the handle. The drive to survive is a powerful thing - it pushes people past the limit and forces them to fight any pain. All in the hopes of making it to see another day. He had to keep a hand on the nearest wall as he struggled to move out of the kitchen. In his hast he flipped another light switch. This time, a light came off. The first switch had been connected to the chandelier - the second connected to a small light near the fridge. The single, unbroken bulb provided just enough light for him to see most of what was in the kitchen.

He didn't like what he saw, but at the same time there was a sense of relief. The glass was only on one side of the kitchen. He had made it far enough in to get away from the shattered bulbs. There was blood smeared all over the floor from his feet. Blood smeared the wall where he had dragged his hand along it. His legs and hands were covered in red smears. The glass had dug in so far in some spots that he wouldn't be able to pull it out without tweezers. His already pale face seemed to turn to paper when he looked at the knife he clutched in his hand. The reflection he saw, didn't belong to him. It belonged to what was trying - or rather, succeeding, in hurting him. A scream caught in his throat as he dropped the knife. How had that thing managed to get in the knife?

The reflection showed the whole body, not just the face. The angry, malicious eyes and a smile so dark it was as if it came directly from the horror movies. In his haste to back away, he stumbled over his own feet and fell backwards. Right onto yet another wooden block. This one hit him square in the back. The pain that hit him was so intense that he could not get up. There wasn't a spot on his body that didn't hurt. He couldn't scream - he couldn't even breathe. His first and only attempt at getting up, shocked him to the point of freezing. The fridge. The door of the fridge was so much like a mirror, but again, the reflection he spotted was not his own. The thing was standing in the door of the fridge, looking at him. He tried to move, tried to scream - but it was as if he was frozen.

He stopped breathing when he locked eyes with the thing in the fridge - only to take in a painful breath when it vanished. Granted, it didn't go away without saying something to him. The voice it used was so quiet that no one would have been able to hear it, but he did. "Found you". That was what the green eyed, yellow haired monster said to him before it left. Then he was yanked off of the ground before he could take his second breath. Out of instinct he screamed and thrashed. He thought that it had come out of the fridge and grabbed him. That wasn't what happened, though. The thing disappeared just before his parents could appear to save him. When they saw the knife, the broken glass, and their bleeding son they panicked and grabbed him.

After that he wasn't really conscious enough to know what happened. He remembered his parents screaming and holding him, then he seemed to blank out until he found himself sitting in a hospital bed. His parents spoke to someone outside the door, before a doctor came in and told him that he needed to stay for a few days. There were bandages all over him, and the doctor explained that they had needed to make him to to sleep when they removed the glass. After that, the doctor walked out of the room to speak with his parents some more. For a moment, he thought that he would be alright. He thought that the nightmare was over, and that he wouldn't be hurt more. Then he saw the blonde, green eyed boy smiling at him from inside the window.