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Description
His eyes snapped open for the third time that night, seemingly too on edge to get a good sleep. He had good reason, though: this place was different to him, somewhere he had never been to before... and it was dark, too dark. Where was the moon at? He couldn't see a thing, but he knew something was there... that sound that had interrupted his sleep: a dull, strange roar.

There was no good in just laying there, he had to do something. With a jolt of motion, he was sitting up and inspecting the surroundings... or at the least what he could make out. His eyes started to adjust to the dark, but to little help-- all he could make out now were dull silhouettes. He would have preferred total blindness once he started to inspect one of them. Stifling a gasp, he froze in place, eyes wide... only a few feet away was a figure, human in shape, but that was not what alarmed him... it had a strange posture, as if it was hanging from something. Could it be dead?

He didn't dare to look any closer, focusing on getting a better idea of the surroundings as a hand crept off to the right, reaching for something he knew he had with him. Where was it? As a matter of fact, what was it? He couldn't remember what it exactly was-- just where it had been set down. He couldn't find it-- all he felt was the slightly abrasive cloth of a sleeping bag that had been flung open in a panic. He would have cursed, had he dared to make a noise.

No, he couldn't figure out where he was at all, trying to avoid looking at that hanging figure, but this brought his attention to another unnerving sight: an arm was dangling right next to him, as still as the figure. Again he felt tempted to just jump and scream, and desperately search for the way out of here or at least find his weapon. Not that he would have the time to do this even if he had wanted to, as he heard something approaching.

A door was creaking open, slowly... in front of him? No, more off to the right, where that roar had come from. That was probably the only way out, too. Great. He complained in his head, right hand continuing to feel around for what he had brought with him, though he seemed too frightened to even recall what on earth it was.

There it was!

His hand wrapped around the handle of something, wound loosely in some old leather, probably to help with grip. A sword? All he knew was that it might help protect him. His other hand? It already had a hold on another object, which he put onto his head to serve as a helmet, though the soft, padded cloth didn't seem likely to protect against anything.

Footsteps.

It drew closer, whatever had found his location. There was no time to hesitate now. Sitting up straight, he gripped the weapon tightly, pointing it forward to defend himself... and then!

... The lights flicked on, revealing a young boy holding a baseball bat straight out, his other hand clutching a pillow to his head. He blinked a couple of times, dumbfounded, forgetting all his fears for the moment. “W-what...?” The one that had opened the door? His friend's father.

“Is something wrong?” The man was about as confused as he was, but he didn't answer. No longer was he in the dark, horrifying place that kept robbing him of sleep, as he found himself within a bedroom-- the unkempt, messy bedroom of a ten-year-old child. The hanging figure? A puppet dangling from a tall lamp, now lighting the room. The arm? Well, he was sleeping over at his friend's house. Yeah, that's right! Now he remembered: they had come back from a game of baseball, and he had been invited to stay over at his friend's for the night.

“N-no. Just a nightmare.” The boy shook his head as he spoke, setting the bat down, letting the pillow just tumble off his head as he sighed heavily... a sigh of relaxation, not a sign of stress. Whew. He fell onto his back, the fall cushioned by the misplaced pillow and sleeping bag beneath him-- maybe he would be able to sleep now.

“Alright, if you're sure. Don't be up too late, you have school tomorrow,” were the last words he heard as his mind drifted off eagerly into sleep. The next time he would see the room it would be well-lit by the morning sun.

It would also be the last night he ever agreed to sleeping over Jimmy's house.

Description
His eyes snapped open for the third time that night, seemingly too on edge to get a good sleep. He had good reason, though: this place was different to him, somewhere he had never been to before... and it was dark, too dark. Where was the moon at? He couldn't see a thing, but he knew something was there... that sound that had interrupted his sleep: a dull, strange roar.

There was no good in just laying there, he had to do something. With a jolt of motion, he was sitting up and inspecting the surroundings... or at the least what he could make out. His eyes started to adjust to the dark, but to little help-- all he could make out now were dull silhouettes. He would have preferred total blindness once he started to inspect one of them. Stifling a gasp, he froze in place, eyes wide... only a few feet away was a figure, human in shape, but that was not what alarmed him... it had a strange posture, as if it was hanging from something. Could it be dead?

He didn't dare to look any closer, focusing on getting a better idea of the surroundings as a hand crept off to the right, reaching for something he knew he had with him. Where was it? As a matter of fact, what was it? He couldn't remember what it exactly was-- just where it had been set down. He couldn't find it-- all he felt was the slightly abrasive cloth of a sleeping bag that had been flung open in a panic. He would have cursed, had he dared to make a noise.

No, he couldn't figure out where he was at all, trying to avoid looking at that hanging figure, but this brought his attention to another unnerving sight: an arm was dangling right next to him, as still as the figure. Again he felt tempted to just jump and scream, and desperately search for the way out of here or at least find his weapon. Not that he would have the time to do this even if he had wanted to, as he heard something approaching.

A door was creaking open, slowly... in front of him? No, more off to the right, where that roar had come from. That was probably the only way out, too. Great. He complained in his head, right hand continuing to feel around for what he had brought with him, though he seemed too frightened to even recall what on earth it was.

There it was!

His hand wrapped around the handle of something, wound loosely in some old leather, probably to help with grip. A sword? All he knew was that it might help protect him. His other hand? It already had a hold on another object, which he put onto his head to serve as a helmet, though the soft, padded cloth didn't seem likely to protect against anything.

Footsteps.

It drew closer, whatever had found his location. There was no time to hesitate now. Sitting up straight, he gripped the weapon tightly, pointing it forward to defend himself... and then!

... The lights flicked on, revealing a young boy holding a baseball bat straight out, his other hand clutching a pillow to his head. He blinked a couple of times, dumbfounded, forgetting all his fears for the moment. “W-what...?” The one that had opened the door? His friend's father.

“Is something wrong?” The man was about as confused as he was, but he didn't answer. No longer was he in the dark, horrifying place that kept robbing him of sleep, as he found himself within a bedroom-- the unkempt, messy bedroom of a ten-year-old child. The hanging figure? A puppet dangling from a tall lamp, now lighting the room. The arm? Well, he was sleeping over at his friend's house. Yeah, that's right! Now he remembered: they had come back from a game of baseball, and he had been invited to stay over at his friend's for the night.

“N-no. Just a nightmare.” The boy shook his head as he spoke, setting the bat down, letting the pillow just tumble off his head as he sighed heavily... a sigh of relaxation, not a sign of stress. Whew. He fell onto his back, the fall cushioned by the misplaced pillow and sleeping bag beneath him-- maybe he would be able to sleep now.

“Alright, if you're sure. Don't be up too late, you have school tomorrow,” were the last words he heard as his mind drifted off eagerly into sleep. The next time he would see the room it would be well-lit by the morning sun.

It would also be the last night he ever agreed to sleeping over Jimmy's house.