It Had Been a Nightmare
I ran, tripping and stumbling because of the underbrush. It didn't stop, however. I knew that it I stopped that I would be in trouble. He would get me. Well, he, she it, whatever was chasing me.
The moon was full that night at least. It didn't help me, though. I kept focusing to not trip over my feet, but I was also growing tired. A full moon couldn't help me if I got tired.
I made a sharp right. I had to find a place to hide. I couldn't run forever. I was miles from town. There was no way I could get there without him catching me. I would run for as long as I could stand it. And, when I could no longer run, I would fight until I died. I was surely going to hyperventilate.
I saw it. It was like a sanctuary cutting through the night: a white, abandoned mansion. Sure, it was the one everyone claimed to be haunted, but still. An old, abandoned, and haunted house was better than him catching me.
Without hesitation, I ran up the steps. The door opened. I paused, but spun around when I heard my attacker closing in. I spun around again and ran into the dusty, old house.
I didn't stop to look around the house. I just ran. I found myself out of breath and in the dusty attic. Now, I took the time to look around, but only after locking the door.
I froze. There was a dusty mirror on the wall. I saw a dark, curly haired girl who wore a dirty white tank top and a key necklace. It took me a moment to realize that it was me in the mirror.
I looked away and then stole another glance and froze. A blonde, pale, and blue eyed boy stood just at my shoulder. He was a good head taller than my five-three height. He was dressed in solid black.
I spun around, but no one was there. My tired mind must have just been playing tricks on me.
"Looking for someone, Isobel Street?" a boy's voice asked. I turned and saw the boy casually sitting in a black, dusty, and work leather chair. "Yes, I do know you. Do you know who I am? Well, probably not, come to think of it." I stood there, frozen. I didn't know what to do. "My name is Jordan Street. Did our parents ever mention me? No? I died when I was born. I've been watching you ever since." I knew he wanted me to say something now.
"Wait, you're…you're my brother?" I asked, it dawning on me. "Oh my gosh, my dead older brother is stalking me!"
"Calm down, Is. Think of it as this: if I hadn't lead you here and that creepy guy away, what would have happened?" he asked, standing. "I'm only looking out for you."
"Fine, let's just…let's just pretend that everything is okay, normal even. What is this place?" I asked, resting my hands on my hips. He crossed the room to the window and looked out of it. I didn't move.
"It used to be a plantation, back in the 1800's, after the Civil War, the mistress, who was in her late sixties and ill, was left with one slave and the slave's family.
"The mistress had always favored this slave. When the mistress died, she left her entire fortune to the slave. They lived here until they died and no one was left to claim the estate. So, it was left to sit here and just…grow old," he concluded. I stared at him. "What?"
"You expect me to believe you my 'dead' brother? Honestly?" I asked.
"I know you're in here. Show yourself!" my follower's voice shouted. I gasped. Jordan looked at the door, and then looked at me again.
"Look, we don't have much time before that psycho dude bursts in here. You need to climb out the window, down the tree, and I'll distract him," Jordan said and stepped closer.
"Is, you have to understand that I can only distract his attention for a few moments. If I distract him, Is, then we will never be able to speak again. I can't show myself to people who don't deserve help. This will be goodbye, Isobel Street, forever," he said. I stared at him. Was he joking or not?
"I'll miss you then, Jordan," I whispered. He studied me, but didn't say goodbye. He merely cleared his throat.
"Alright, then, Is. Do you understand what you have to do?" he asked as my stalker closed in.
"Yeah, I've got it," I said, swallowing hard. I really did not want to climb a tree outside of a fourth floor window.
"Good," Jordan said after studying me. "Good luck, Is."
"Thanks," I managed to get out. He turned as the door handle juggled. I was out the window and scaling the tree moments later.
I dropped the last five feet and broke out into a dead sprint for the highway. I remembered seeing a farm house, and there was someone surely on the highway I could bum a ride with. Well, at least I hoped so.
My breath quickened as I heard someone running close by. Crap. My stalker had found a short cut.
It didn't matter. I heard the rush of the cars on the highway. Yes! I was relieved. Well, at least until I tripped over my feet and did a face plant.
"Trapped," my stalker said, appearing over top of me. I screamed.
"Isobel, are you okay?" my ninth period biology teacher asked. The entire class was turned, looking at me.
"I'm fine," I muttered and slumped down in my seat. It had all only been a dream. Correction, it had been a nightmare.