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There was a picture of me sleeping on my

  • There was a picture of me sleeping on my phone. I live alone.
  • I got up and locked my bedroom door, just in case. I started to back up when my phone went off again. it was a message. "Locked doors can not keep me out."
  • I started to panic. I had no other option but to hide. I went in the attic, as dark and creepy as it is and hid. I got another text, " I know your in the attic..nice try".
  • I was tempted to correct the killer's usage but I didn't want to give him or her additional motive. I texted back nothing, twice. I assumed it was true that he knew I was in the at
  • -tic & that I was just biding my time but you know the old adage about assumptions. I needed to get to the killer before he could hurt anyone else. I waited for a reply to my texts
  • but my phone battery died. By the time I got it to a charger, the texts had flared up like ghosts. "I M in dumpster 12th & P St." "U hav 1 min." "Too late, I killed again."
  • And now with my godforsaken phone, there was hardly much I could do. I called him once I had enough charge. "Hello?" No reply. "Are you there?" All I heard was heavy breathing.
  • I threw the phone away. It felt cursed somehow. I felt cold, distressed, anxious all of a sudden. Like God was so far away he could ever be. A lighthouse destroyed by a heavy wind.
  • I felt abandoned by the Cosmos. So there I was, stuck on the planet of the crazy people, pure materiality twitched about by us dust devils of happenstance. Never liked Charbucks, b
  • because it was always overpriced for such a little amount of crappy coffee.

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