Thursday, February 9, 2012

Group K Blog One













 


As I walked up the stairs to my front porch that night I knew something wasn’t right. It couldn’t of been that mustard sandwich I ate for lunch, I thought. No, it had to be something else. Something was up. I could smell the uneasiness in the air when I walked through my front door. The house seemed different. It was not the fact that my wife had moved out, or the fact she had taken the pets with her. It was a new kind of different, the kind that you feel in your stomach. Putting aside my notions I continued into the kitchen where I placed my briefcase on a chair. I walked over to my freezer and swung open the door, searching for dinner. I found my favorite TV Dinner; Mac And Cheese with some broccoli and turkey. Yes, it’s okay to say things have been rough without Sharon in my life. I popped the cold meal I’d become accepting of into the microwave. As I walked upstairs the strange feeling in my stomach began to grow. So much to the point where I felt unsafe. I imagined myself to be in a horror film. Eyes peering at me from holes carved through the ceiling tiles. Being the man I am I shrugged off the feeling in my gut and continued into my room. I woke up ten minutes later. Puzzled, I looked around. What had happened? I remember tripping and falling into a cabinet but what had tripped me? I was sure I didn’t see anything laying on the ground. Stunned, I stood up and flicked the light switch on. That’s when I saw it. It was a mysterious lump in my carpet. I nearly shrieked but I knew that would only frighten what may ever be in the lump. I grabbed the closest object to me, it was my grandfather’s chair which was handed down to my father and now myself. I raised it over my head and took a swing hitting the lump object. I nearly knocked the lamp of the table which the chair used to rest next to. The lump flattened without much force. I broke a leg off the chair which latter I payed to have fixed. What was under that lump will forever haunt me. Or maybe, I would forever haunt it. If it even exists.

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