A Voice In The Dark

“Please don’t hurt me...” Kay was curled up into a ball, her arms over her face. In the dark she couldn’t see who was there. “No, stop!” she cried as the footsteps drew closer. Just then, she felt a warm hand touch her forearm and she squealed in terror. “Shhh,” someone hushed.

"Kay, it's me..", whispered a still voice from the black. "I think I know a way out from here but we'll have to keep quiet so they won't hear us."

“Follow the sound of my footsteps”, whispered the voice, “and be as quiet as possible.” That’s when I couldn’t stop myself and let out a high-decibel sneeze.

"Really? Right when I warn you?" The voice sounded less like the mysterious guide that often appeared in stories as annoyance crept into its existence. "Come on, we haven't much time. But quiet!" The footsteps accompanying the voice resumed their cadence as we crept through the d

dimly lit hallway and out a door into a backyard. Silver moonlight streamed down and illuminated scraggly bushes and a few shabby pieces of patio furniture ringing a firepit, where the last embers of a burning log smoldered. A figure sat in a folding chair, long fingers around a

clipboard. “We’ve been expecting you,” the shadowy figure declared, leafing through its pages. “Take a seat.” It gestured toward chairs shrouded in darkness. The guests sat, eventually realizing their seats were occupied by sharp, brittle limbs cracking loudly under their weight.