Feed your addiction for fiction
For the past several days, I had the same recurring dream. In it, I stood a little over two meters from the red door, and in each dream I took a step closer. The last thing I wanted was to go near it–to see whatever the door had to show me. I wanted none of it, but I didn’t know why.
Why does it make me feel this way? I asked myself when I woke up last. It’s just a door.
More shrieking and mock snarls from the hallway. Rubén had actually scared Mirenita; the five year old had begun to cry.
I let out an annoyed sigh. Seriously? I ignored my aunt and cousin, pushing past them as I ran out to the hallway. I expected to see my step cousin chasing Mirenita, but he was nowhere in sight. My little sister, however, was already over her tears, running through the kitchen and cackling.
“Miren–” I called out to her, but the sound of my voice only quickened her pace. My legs were much longer, considering our twelve year age difference, so I power walked after her, easily catching up. We had traversed the dining room space and were passing the living room when I reached out to grab the back of her shirt–
I shot a peripheral glance at the man sitting on the couch, and my heart began pounding against the confines of my rib cage. My eyes had widened so much, I thought they would fall out if they stayed that way. Mirenita out of sight, I sprinted back down the hall to my room, slamming the door behind me.
That was not my uncle.
Sisters of the Shadows 