The sound came from inside the closet. Quietly, I crept toward the door. But first, I knew I needed to protect myself if it was what I thought it was.
Why would my parents decide to go out to dinner on Halloween night? I’m only 11 years old. I knew that convincing them that it was okay to go out tonight without me was surely not a good idea. I realized that there was no time to cry about it now. I convinced them that I was old enough to stay home alone. Besides, if I was the one who saved our house from the beast, I knew my parents would handsomely reward me.
So, with this knowledge, I crept towards the kitchen, not wanting to disrupt the thing in the closet. I looked around, frantically searching for anything to protect myself. Across the kitchen, to the left, I noticed the knife I had been dicing carrots with before. It was roughly at a 45 degree angle, partially inched over the lower-left part of the stove. Seeing the knife, I slid my way across the tiled floor in my socks, knowing that it would lessen any noise I was sure to make.
The beast shrieked again.
I knew that the beast was going to make its move any minute, so I had to make my way over to the closet quickly. Slower than a mouse, I made my way over to the door. Holding the knife in my right hand, I motioned my left hand over to the doorknob, still a few steps away.
It’s now or never.
Inching my hand over to the doorknob, I began to open the door. It was time to unlock it. Not wanting to look in what would be the beast’s eye level, I watched my index and middle fingers come together, turning the lock to the right.
With nothing but fear, the door swung its way towards me. Interestingly, the inside of the closet no longer existed. The room, which once contained winter coats, scarves, blankets, and shoes, was now a glowing white light that seemed inviting. Dropping the knife on the floor, I took my first step into the closet.
My journey was about to begin.
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