User talk:MrsSquiggles

My name is Michael. I have not a last name, and it's not important anyways. My voice is deep like my fathers, my lips a rosy scarlet and my teeth as sharp as knives. I did not have a good childhood, in fact, I never left the basement. My mother always shoved the food underneath the door to feed me every morning, afternoon, and night. At night it was a cautious attempt because I had always been so much hungrier when the darkness hit the valley. I had no clothes on and I was nude all the time, unless I was cold, I'd wrap myself in the 7 blankets and curl up on my concrete bed and close my eyes tightly. I felt as if I was living a nightmare. My dreams calmed me at night and made me feel so... alive. When I opened my glazed, blue eyes. My hair was always in knots, my mother stopped giving me baths long ago and I never took the time to bathe myself because I felt as if it was a waste. I had started growing facial hair a long time ago but I did not care at all. I quite liked it, it made me look like my father. My father and mother were a very beautiful couple. Although they had a horrid son that was a monster. I hate myself for breaking their hearts. I feel as though they try to love me but can not because of the fear of me hurting them. Whenever my mother feeds me she tears her hands back quickly because she's scared I will nibble at them. But all I really wanted to ever do was hold one. To feel another human's touch. My I will always be trapped down in this basement. Alone, and nobody to talk to. I don't think I can talk anyways. My voice doesn't like to work. It's crackly and deep, and I don't like it one bit. I like being quiet. It suits my character. Nobody wants to see my teeth anyways, or smell my horrid breath, I have not brushed them in years.

As you can tell I've been talking in past tense. You see, I don't live in that basement anymore, I live somewhere you'll never find me. I sharpen my teeth every night, and I've made myself some clothes for when I get cold at night. But when winter comes, I like to go into someones basement. Anybody's. Nobody really goes down there, and when they do, they're quick to get out because it's dark and ominous. They come down to call for their pets that aren't coming back up stairs, maybe because I used their bones to pick my teeth. I don't remember, the smell of life just gets me. I follow it everywhere, feeling, touching, chewing, eating... Maybe next time you'll think twice of coming down in the basement... I stay for a few, I leave for more, You come close, I'll eat your toes.

--MrsSquiggles (talk) 16:04, September 30, 2013 (UTC)Emily Breuer