This was not a good week to be living in the small town of Drury. The last 4 days had been the gloomiest days of the year. The clouds had covered up the horizon like a thick, dark brick wall. It felt like being locked up in a prison cell with no lights, no windows to look out from, all alone.
Today felt like a particularly murky day. The winds were roaring in agony. The street sign for Sonit Lane almost seemed to be waving like a flag. The trees sounded like they were being slapped non-stop. No living soul dared to venture out of a shelter for fear of being blown away.
With a whip of lightning and a crackle of thunder, the downpour started again.
Nature, it seemed, was applying its torture in perfect rhythm. The howling winds, the splashing rain, and the cries of thunder created a synchronized, somber sound. It was the only thing that could be heard in every house in the neighborhood.
If one were to turn right onto Sonit Lane from Maddy Avenue, they would be able to see a light glowing on the second floor of house 331; the third house on their left. If they were to pay closer attention, they could probably make out a young boy, staring longingly out the window. They might be able to make out his curly hair, covering his head like a woolen hat; his plump round cheeks; and his square-edged glasses.
His blue eyes were hidden behind his glasses, but there was a hint a depression in them. This was his vacation. He had spent his whole year, locked up indoors, in school, going from one class to the next. He had done all that and now it was his time to play outside, to hang out with his friends, to play baseball in his summer league, to go the park, to have fun. Instead, once again, he was bound between four walls around him.
He got up from his seat near the window and went to lie down on his bed. It was placed in the dead-centre of his room. He had two night stands on either side, one that had a lamp on it, and the other had his school books. His name, Fraser, was printed on his Math book. His bed frame rested on the left wall of his room, and his dresser on the right wall. On the other side of his bed were two doors. One that led him to his family, and the other to his bathroom.
Since he had nothing else to do for the last four days, his mom made sure that he cleaned up his room and kept all his clothes and belongings in their organized places. He hated every second of it. As he lay in bed, he thought about every single boring and monotonous chore he was forced to do and started mumbling words in anger. He seemed to be having a straight on fit with himself. Finally, when he could take no more, he got up again and walked sat next to the window again.
As Fraser looked out his window, he could see a couple of houses in front of him. His classmates Gary and Menzel lived in those houses. They had plans of winning the summer baseball tournament. Now, that seemed like a fantasy. Their houses looked exactly the same from the outside, except for a few minor details, like the type of doors, windows, entrance steps and front yards. As a matter of fact, almost every house in Sonit Lane was almost exactly the same. They all had two floors, a front entrance that required a few small steps to reach, slanted roofs, wooden walls, with white paint, and a garage attached next to the house.
The street itself was covered with at least one tree outside every house. It was an incredibly quite and peaceful neighborhood, a serenity that was only disturbed by the storm.
Nothing had changed within the last five minutes. In an instant, something felt different. Fraser felt a tingle, his hands started to feel cold, and he got Goosebumps. He knew he should get away from the window, run to his mother, tell her what’s wrong, but he couldn’t move. He was rooted to the the spot. It’s funny how human curiosity sometimes overpowers fear. He kept looking out the window, certain that the cause of this was out there somewhere. His eyes caught sight of an open yellow umbrella, lying face down on the ground. It seemed like it was stuck the cement. No force of wind could move it out of place. Finally, it shifted a little, lifted off the ground, and flew away to Fraser’s left. He kept his gaze on the umbrella until it was out of view. He then turned his face back to where the umbrella was. He shrieked, jumped off his seat and fell backwards on the floor.
It took him a while to gather his senses. He got up and peered out the window again. Where the umbrella had been, there was now a figure; a tall figure, approximately 215cm in height. It seemed like it was floating in mid-air. The curly red-haired boy could not make out any of the features of this being. It almost felt like it was a dark ghost. The more Fraser looked at it, the more he got the feeling that this spirit was looking directly at him. This feeling made Fraser petrified, but he was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore. The figure kept staring towards the light in house 331. A small layer of smoke started to come out of its body. It started moving towards Fraser.
Fraser wanted to scream, to cry for help, to shout, but his voice had left him. Instead, he stood there, watching the layer of gas, that looked like clouds heading towards him. His eyes were fixed on the mystical figure. He saw the figure suddenly turn a dark and menacing red color, and then everything was dark. Everything was blank.