Josh's Nightmare

Josh's Nightmare

A Story by SinisterPotatoe (Jack)
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A short story about a boy named Josh

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Josh’s Nightmare                       1043 Words

 

“Josh get out of bed!” Said the nice lady from outside the door

Josh muttered something to himself. He got off his bed and went to the door.

“Breakfast’s ready Joshie boy!” and pushed a tray under the door. It was oatmeal with milk, bread, and butter it smelled like the oatmeal his mother made every morning.

Josh muttered a little more before yelling back a “Thank you!”

The woman from outside the door replied with a quick but well meant, “No problem!” from outside the door before walking away.

Josh could hear her steps echo as she moved away from the room.

 Josh heard a clicking sound. He heard the sound every few hours in his room, the whole house made strange clicking sounds. He wondered what it could be.

Josh ate his food and left the tray on the table by the window next to the picture of his family. He loved them very much. It has been a while since he had seen his father.

Josh went to the door, and found it to be open, like every morning. He put on the carefree smile his mother wanted to see before opening the door. He felt the air; it was cold, before he thought of leaving the room. Everything was silent. Josh muttered to himself as he closed the door. He pulled out his favourite book lay down on his comfy bed. The book was The Hound Of Baskervilles. Josh loved how murder mysteries always ended up being solved. The murderer would be exposed, the victims would be treated with respect, and life would go on. And Sherlock Holmes even prevented murder like Josh wanted to some day. But it was getting a little late, so Josh put on his slippers, crept closer to the door and popped his head outside. Looking around, he saw that the coast was clear. No one was out of their rooms. He went downstairs and grabbed some cookies from the table, and gathered up some water, and grabbed vitamins the mother of the place gave to him. She told him he better stay healthy, and he knew the mother was just looking out for him. He had an appointment with Samuel today, Samuel said he was recovering from his illness, and would be able to pursue school again in no time. Josh knew he was making progress, he was able to think clearly again, and the cookies here were good snacks. He always snuck down here just for the sole purpose of eating them.

“Come see me, Josh, I’m in your room!” Samuel’s yell seemed to come from everywhere.

Josh crept back up stairs, shadows crept, but he wasn’t looking. It wasn’t his business or right to stare.

“I’m right here Josh!” Josh heard Samuel say from inside his room.

Josh went into his room and closed the door. Samuel was there, sitting on a small, light plastic chair. He motioned to the bed. Josh took a seat on it, and Samuel shut the door.

“I’m here to help you, Josh, you know that better than anyone. Now be truthful Josh, what do you think happened that night.”

Josh muttered to himself.

Samuel acknowledged what Josh said with a frown.

“I’ve heard that before Josh, and I’m sorry, but I want the details.” Samuel paused, waiting for a response. “Tell me the details,” Samuel stated.

Josh muttered to himself some more and hid under the blankets.

“Spill it, you’ve kept me waiting long enough.” Samuel gazed solemnly at Josh. He looked like someone. Someone uncaring, that he didn’t want to know.

Josh’s muttering became louder.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow Josh. I hope you’ve calmed down by then. I expect you to speak more openly than this, you know? I already know you, Josh, you don’t have to hide from me. After that, you can go to school like all the other kids again.” Samuel promised, in a kinder tone.

All the other kids. Josh didn’t want to see the other kids, he wanted to be alone so he could finish reading the book he’d read for the last 27 times.

And Josh didn’t like to be bargained with.

Josh muttered loudly, yelling it over and over again. He threw his pillow at Samuel, before biting at his bed covers, pulling at the soft cotton sheets, ripping it with his teeth in rage.

“See you tomorrow Josh.” Replied Samuel, unsurprised but dejected, before leaving the room.

Home was great, Josh loved being home. He loved to see his mother, and even if he only got to see his father occasionally, it wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t lonely, was he? He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

But here food came on a tray, the oatmeal was premade, the bread was old and stale, the butter came in a plastic tin, and the cookies were processed, wrapped in plastic, not baked. And he felt so unwanted. So cold.

Josh stopped his muttering, and everything was silent. He didn’t want to go to school here; he just wanted to go back home. He looked hard with wide blue eyes at the picture on his bedside table by the window. He started to sweat. The cold air became fire.

Josh yelled and knocked over the picture, breaking the glass over the picture-frame, stepping on the picture. It was a scam.

Josh screamed and punched at the wall, to no avail. It was cushioned.

Josh looked out the bulletproof window, at the dark rainy sky, and the armed guards below and muttered to himself, smiling again to make his mother proud, with tears in his eyes, as he looked at the crumpled photograph now in his hands.

His mother, father, and sister smiled back at him, but they were deathly still.

 “I didn’t kill them, I swear, I didn’t kill them,” Josh muttered to himself as his tears fell onto the picture. Josh yelled and punched at the walls with both hands. He hid the picture under his mattress, protecting them.  The door was closed, but did anyone hear him? Nobody came. He heard the weird clicking sound from the door. It was locked now. And even if they did hear him, would it make any difference?


© 2017 SinisterPotatoe (Jack)



Author's Note

SinisterPotatoe (Jack)
I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

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Well woven story. You kept me hooked till the end.

Posted 3 Weeks Ago



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Added on October 30, 2017
Last Updated on October 30, 2017
Tags: Josh, nightmare

Author

SinisterPotatoe (Jack)
SinisterPotatoe (Jack)

Burlington, Halton, Canada



About
For those who wonder why I have a silly username, I've been using this name because I find it funny. Potatoes are never really that sinister. The e on the end of potato is because I'm a potato with to.. more..

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