Challenge #: 28
Genre: Humour
Rating: PG to PG-13
Likes: Anything
Dislikes: Too much cursing
Words/phrases to use: "My God man! The turnip! Go back!" "If you lived here as long as I have, you'd understand perfectly." "They call me a freak, but they really do need me around."

Chapter 1

I sat there, a down blanket wrapped snugly around me, staring out the window and watching as the cars passed by the road. Red, blue, black, silver; colourful blurs flying along. Everyday people going about their everyday lives, while I was stuck here, at home, dreaming up adventures.

From the corner of my vision, I saw a boy – no, a man; his gait was too confident, his clothes a little too polished, his appearance a little too pushing to be considered a boy, I noted as I fixed my eyes upon him. Alongside him was a rather large, and, admittedly, rather scary looking dog. Its ears were pulled back, as if it was searching for something, and its face was distorted enough that I could tell it was snarling.

They were approaching on the opposite side of the street, but as they got closer, I realized that the dog reached up to the boy’s – no, man, I reminded myself – waist, which was no easy feat. This man was huge. Tall, broad, and a little too much like the dog, I thought to myself. Dangerous and feral. Just then, the dog turned and began to pull at its leash. It seemed to be looking straight at me, snarling and barking, like it had suddenly turned mad. The man turned with it, shading his eyes with a large hand, searching until his eyes found mine, which was a ridiculous notion, really, since we were so far away from each other. Still, it unnerved me, and I wrenched back, pulling the curtains across the living room window. That was odd. Slowly, gently, I lay back on the couch, trying to slow my suddenly pounding heart.

This is ridiculous, I told myself. Yet I still couldn’t bring my shaking hands to reach up and pry apart the curtains, even just a slit, to see that weird man and his scary dog one more time.

I was overreacting, and I knew it, but that’s the way I’ve always been; quick to feel and slow to think. I snorted. It was time I got up and did something productive. Like getting dressed, I thought, looking down at my stained jersey and pants, which was impressive, since the jersey was a dark navy blue, the pants a slightly faded black. One would have thought that staining dark clothes would be difficult. Obviously not in my case.

Moving to the kitchen, I glanced at the clock on the oven. 9:15. The grumbling in my stomach alerted me that it didn’t matter what time it was outside in the world. All that mattered, it said to me, was the fact that I hadn’t had anything to eat since last night. Ah, such was the life of a teenage girl left to her own devices, with a house to herself.

I grinned. It might get a little lonely, and the fridge might be empty most of the time, but living on my own gave me the freedom to do things I would normally never do. Blaring the music and dancing around the house like a kid on ice skates for the first time, for example. Entertaining whimsical fantasies through hours of romantic movie marathons with my friends, for another.

I opened the fridge door, sighing – I was hungry, and there was nothing to eat. Eggs, a package of hot dogs, some leftover takeout from last night; nothing I was in the mood for at the moment, or probably ever would be. Chilled air hit my face, filtering out of the fridge.

The door slammed shut. Turning to the cupboards, I opened the one containing the glasses, and reached as far as I could, which consequently, wasn’t very far at all. My small frame made it difficult for me to reach objects very high up. And unfortunately, all the cups save for the ones on the uppermost shelf were in the dishwasher, waiting to be cleaned. Finally managing to get one between the tips of my fingers, I pushed until it was close enough to the edge for me to wrap my hand around it. Moving over to the sink, my hand grasped the tap, turning on the cold water that slowly filled my glass.

I sighed. The smooth feeling of the water sliding down my throat felt like heaven. An image of that man on the street flashed across my now closed eyes. I shuddered. All of a sudden, the water couldn’t get cold enough.

Slamming the glass down, I went back to the living room window, tearing apart the curtains with an angry fervour. I was not going to let some weirdo freak me out like this.

Turn to one side, then to the other. No one was in sight. Exhaling a loud breath, I began to laugh. I was the weird one here, not some innocent man walking his dog. Satisfied, I turned in the direction of my room. I needed to get out of the house; do something normal and calm down. A snort escaped my mouth. Get out of the house – I hadn’t left in what felt like days. I took a look at the calendar by the door, each page decorated with large Xs for every day that passed.

Wait, that’s not right… It had been days. When was the last time I left? Monday? I went out for a few drinks with Aria. No, that was last week. My God. Wait – I did buy a few groceries on Wednesday… that made it three days. Three days locked up in the house, and I hadn’t even noticed. I really did need to get out of here. I scanned the floor for a pair of shoes. I would go for a run, maybe see a movie… I could phone Aria – she would come with me. That way, I could focus on her theatrical antics instead of my own unbased fears. Then again, maybe not.

Here is the first chapter; again. Only I think I might be changing the content drastically. Thanks to the Breakdancing Ninja; I have made some changes that I hope you'll appreciate. Unfortunately, I'm thinking of some even bigger changes; including some basic elements to the storyline. We'll see how it goes.