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Intruder

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e-Writer in Residence

Mya Kidson | April 24, 2017

Intruder

As I walk in my door from a long day of school, I toss my bag onto the couch and run upstairs to get something from my room. Just before turning the corner to my bedroom, I hear an unfamiliar voice. Mumbling is coming from my room.

“It has to be here. I know it”

The unsteady voice murmurs. Afraid to go in, I slowly walk back trying not to draw attention to my heavy footsteps. Too soon, a creak in the floorboard blows my cover. The long silence unnerves me that I run downstairs making my way to the phone. I punch in ...9...1...1,  my trembling fingers.

When they arrive, they are struck with annoyance, only to find nothing. No signs that anyone had rummaged through my drawers. I lay on my bed in disbelief and as I open my eyes I see a note engraved in the ceiling….

“I know you have it. I’ll be back!”