Feeding The Ghosts At 12:07

It’s 12:07. I’ve been watching a guy call himself “PewDiePie” for about fifteen hours now. Too Long. Way too long. I feel my stomach grumble. It’s been twenty three hours since my last meal. I’m starved. Like, really starved. Another grumble. I Have to get food. I think to myself. But what if they come? They scare me. They only come out at night. Why at night? How cliché is that? I can’t think about what they would do to me if they found me. They will always try to stop me. I can’t live without food… My mind reasons with me. They might not come out today… My mind wants me dead. I need food. Now. I force myself up. My legs feel like lead. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps. They are not here! I shout in my head. They had never let me get past the third step. Today was a big day. But that’s when I noticed the subtle breathing behind me. Quiet, yes, but there. I slowly turn, anticipating the pain that would surely come, but I only see a little girl. She looks up and says something in a cute girly voice. “Mommy wont like you staying up so late…” and with that, she flys across the room, and latches onto my legs, scraping my skin blindly. Pain flairs throughout my body. I feel her fingernails digging into my legs. With all my strength, I pull her off my body, and push her to the ground. She falls, and freezes on the ground. I limp towards the living room, in desperate search for food now. I hear the barking of a dog.

I don’t have a dog. They must have let their dog out today. I look to my right, and see a blinding flash of light, as I feel pain on my right cheek. Immediately, the dog disappears, leaving me practically drowning in my own blood. I have no more hope. I need food. I will die in the next minute without it. I’m on the ground, literally dragging my two damaged legs. I’m ten feet away from the refrigerator. So close, yet so far. Eight feet. Seven. Five. Three. Two. One. I’m at the fridge, clasping the promising handle in victory. I have won again. I have beat them. And with a silent countdown in my head, i open the fridge, only to find the worst thing I could possibly think. It. Was. Empty. Shoot.