12:45 a.m.

I hear it again.

Those heavy footsteps upon the squeaky floorboards. It starts at the one end of the hallway and stops  where my room is. 

It’s been a week now and I am now more curious than frightened. I feel this insane need to see who it is

I slowly get out of bed, with shaky hands and slowly open the door.

I instantly freeze.

Standing there, is a shadowy pale figure that looks just like me.

I quiver.

The figure bends and now whispers into my ear.

“Thomas, you’re dead”.

“Move…”

“on…”

I finally remember the accident.

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photo credit: Encroach via photopin (license)

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