dailycatnips avatar

100 Dark Hallways

by

The laughter always woke him.

Boisterous, scattered.

Validated by pitter-pattering feet.

Mom told him not to open the door.

That it was all in his head.

The singing, the dancing--

But Anna from across the hall heard it, too.

And Tom.

And Cindy--

Every night at half past midnight, the same loud revelries and whispered invitations.

Cindy went missing first.

Then Tom.

Then Anna--

And it took Nate all of one night to place their voices amidst the nightly revelries, the persistent invitations.

Mom told him not to open the door.

But the laughter didn't seem so strange anymore.

1 comment add one below

  • avatar

    dailycatnips over 2 years ago

    Thank you very much, Steve! :)

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