Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24248644-20170104155637

My family wasn't exactly what you call a "wealthy" family. Mom and dad made just enough for the living. As a kid, I would ask my parents to buy me lots of things, to which they always answered "no". Instead, I always got a used stuff. Clothing, textbooks, writing utensils, and etc. Our neighbors were nice folks to give them for free, and they were all in a nice condition. That is until i received the desk.

To describe the desk, It is made from high quality oak with professional polishing and fancy designs for drawers. When I first saw it, I was excited because it was the most cleanest thing I have ever received at that point. When I opened the drawers, it still had the scent of the wood. For the first week, I spent my time reading and studying on that desk.

That's when things started to get.....weird. After that first week, I felt sudden chill under the desk, around my feet. I moved around my legs to feel something solid. My sights were in the book but the thoughts were focused on what was under the desk. I moved my legs around more to get the feeling of what the object was. There was bumps everywhere, and I felt holes at few points. Some parts were soft yet other parts was hard. The top of the object felt like a grass field, with the rows of string-like textures brushing against my legs. I just couldn't figure out what it was. I rolled my chair back and looked under the table.

There was a small boy, with pale complexion on his skin. my legs were above his hair. I jumped and felt back from my chair, screaming. The boy, was staring back at me, with his empty, void eyes. I crawled back towards the door to my room, and ran out of the door. I told my dad what I just saw, but he wouldn't believe me and thought I was lying to get a new desk. I had to choice but to use that desk throughout the elementary school. I tried my hardest to ignore the chill under the desk.

When I got into middle school, I asked my mom where did we get the desk from. She had a nervous emotion in her face, and told me we got the desk from Brian Dent. Brian was my friend who went to preschool with me together. A day before the beginning of the first grade year, Brian was found dead, apparently drowned in the river near by. I thought the pale boy I saw was Brian, and he was encouraging me to do well in school. After that I was no longer scared of the chill under the desk.

Thanks to that desk, I averaged A's and B's in all of my classes. I thanked Brian for helping me to achieve this. Time flied and I was now in 8th grade. I wanted to join Baseball team, but the requirement was to bring your own gear. I asked my dad to buy me those gears, and all he told me was "Be patient".

Few days later, my dad handed me the necessary gears. Once again, it was used stuff but I didn't care. I only was glad to finally join the baseball team. Few days later during practice, one of the guys asked "Aren't those Daniel's gloves?" Daniel Miller was also a good friend, who was so good at baseball he became our captain and the pitcher for the team. Daniel was found dead couple of days ago, drowned in the river near by on his way back from the school. I swore to Daniel that I would use his gloves to improve myself.

But something odd occurred in my thought. Both Daniel died from drowning, at the same river. And I have been using their properties. I asked myself. "Could they be related?"

It's been few months now, and I found myself bugging my dad again, this time asking him for a PS4. My dad once again, told me "Be patient". And you know what? Two weeks ago, my dad did get me a used PS4. While I was hooking up my console, a breaking news was on the TV. They found another body of a young man, around my age, at that same river. I felt the rush of goosebumps all over my body.

As I'm writing this on my laptop (my family is doing....surprisingly well), I can feel the chill under my desk. All these years, maybe Brian hasn't been encouraging me. Maybe he was trying to tell me something different. Hell, I don't think it was even "Brian" to begin with.

I just can't bear to look under my desk anymore, whether it's "Brian" or something/one else entirely.  