Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26416562-20150721170029

It was a dark stormy night. The wind was howling and the fog was deep. At about ten I decided to get some milk. I looked out the window into the dreary night. I knew something was about to happen. But don't we all? I should have trusted my gut. I went to watch my favorite movie of all time. It. The movie based on the book by Steven king. I sipped the milk as I watched. That night, hours felt like Minutes. Soon enough, I found myself yawning and walking to bed. The storm was still going on, but now it was just the fog and the quiet tapping of rain against my window. Yah, I led a pretty lonely life. No lover and no kids. I didn't even know a girl I liked. And although I had a particularly bad feeling that night, all I did was cut on some music and get under the covers. I felt sleepy yet could not fall asleep. Thinking it was going to be a restless night again, I even took pills. No difference had occurred. Finally I had fell asleep. Then I found myself awake again. At the time I could not explain it. I still can't now. I had a sort of feeling like I was asleep, yet awake. I was just laying there, staring up at the ceiling. My heart then began to throb. I heard my front door violently swing open. Footsteps slowly walked across the house.

I was terrified. Even if the footsteps were not yet coming in my direction. I had a small house, so it would not be long until the thing found me. I remembered I had a shotgun under my bed. That's when I noticed I couldn't move. Only my eyes were mobile. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move a muscle. The house started to creak as the footsteps started again. The footsteps started in another direction. Again not my direction. I struggled to get up. It was useless. Now would have been a great time to have a family to help me. I then heard a noise that sounded like metal scraping wood. The footsteps started again.

It was at that moment I wondered why the footsteps kept stopping. Sweat was running down my face and palms. My breathing grew heavy. A tear ran down my eye. I wanted to scream but couldn't. My mouth couldn't move. I hear the footsteps come my way. I wondered why I deserved this. I never did anything wrong in my life. I would die with no family. Nobody would care or notice. Nobody ever loved me other than my parents and they're dead. No friends at the time cared for me. It was just me in the world. I heard a knock on my bedroom door. Sadness turned back to fear. I wondered if the intruder would kill me.

I felt like running. I wanted to hide. I was face up. I couldn't close my eyes. My eyes were adjusted to the darkness. Whatever was about to come in, I had to see it. I was completely vulnerable.the door creamed open. I saw a regular man. It was a teenager. He just stood in the door way. I watched for a few minuted. He did nothing.he said nothing. He wore a black jacket that was darker than night itself. He had regular eyes. His shoes were gray and his pants were dark blue jeans. Perhaps what scared me the most was how normal he looked. He didn't even look like a thug. The only thing normal was how he did nothing. He was so still, I couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

His face then went from serious to a curved smile. Then he remained still. I stared at him. I wasn't scared. I was just really creeper out. He was the most creepy I intruder I could imagine. What struck me as odd though, was why he would come in here to do nothing. He then took three steps forward. His smile grew bigger. I had noticed that his teeth were yellow with a extremely red gums. He had a twinkle in his eye. What the shell was he up to. He took six steps forward. He put his hand in his pocket as if searching for something. He took twelve tiny steps forward. He was then right in front of me.

He leaned his face close to mine. He then put his face back. When he put his face back, I saw he had a box cutter in his hand. Terror filled my body. I held my breath. He cut my arm inch in length. My eyes welled up with even more tears. He then raised the box cutter above my face. I then felt my arms return. When he brought the box cutter down, I caught it with my good hand. He then vanished. No box cutter, no teenager. I was looking right at him and didn't even see him vanish.

I called the cops and showed them my arm. I was shaken up but ok. The doctor at the hospital they drove me to stitched me up. I told the doctor what had happened to me. He said that what I had experienced was sleep paralysis. The only thing he couldn't understand was the cut. No one had ever gotten hurt in sleep paralysis. 